Writing about or posting pictures of Iguazu Falls seems silly to me. There is nothing in the world that could possibly explain the wonder of the falls than actually being there yourself. Nothing. Not even the best photographer or videographer in the world could capture the image (and noise) of that cascading water coming from a river that is split between Argentina and Brazil.
I will steal an excerpt from my friend Laura:
“I will happily shell out fistfuls of pesos, trek obediently along well-worn trails with other travelers, stand and wait for trains and busses and shuttles and my turn to come, if the end result is having the massive good fortune to be able to see a wonder of the world like this.”
Every since I saw The Mission in class on day, with the Christ like figure going over the falls, I knew that one day I wanted to see them myself. The 40 hours total we spent on a bus, the frigid temperatures, the massive amount of rain and the outrageous prices did not in any way lesson the experience for me. I felt so lucky, and it was one of those feelings when you should give yourself, completely, to the golden, fate-filled moment.
Then, I bought a blow dart from a Guaraní warrior.
This song should be required to be played at all times at the “Garganta Del Diablo”.