It was like hell and heaven, all at once.
Standing on the edge of a 300 foot tall waterfall, surrounded by 10 other waterfalls. The roar is so loud and the spray is so strong that we all lift up our arms and scream into downpour. We are soaked-absolutely drenched- but deliriously happy.
The barefoot children in San Ignacio surround us, as we rub the sleep out of our eyes and complain about the air conditioning being too cold in our omnibus, they hold out their dirt covered hands and ask for a piece of candy or a glass of water.
As a little train pulls us through the Argentine rain forest, hundreds of brightly colored butterflies follow, perching on our hands, our shoulders, our noses. We lean down and stare at their eyes and their long curled tongues. As we watch, it unfurls and silently licks the salt of off our sunburned skin. You would swear you´ve never been a part of anything that beautiful.
¨One woman a year commits suicide en la garganta del diablo.¨ Our tour guide motions behind him, at a crater of a waterfall, that looks as if God himself reached down and tore a hole in the middle of the Paraná River. Lazily and unaware the water creeps down the river until suddenly the gravity of the 200 foot drop brings it crashing down. The force is so strong that you can´t see where the water hits the rocks, only the white spray. I lean over the railing and watch as the birds weave their way through the falls, effortless, and wonder if those women wished they had wings.
I am parallel to the jungle floor, my arms and legs outstretched like a ballerina on point, above 250 feet of open air. My harness is clipped to the zip line and as I fly through the tops of the trees, I realize there is no where else in the world I would rather be.
Veronika and I are walking through the rust colored dirt, staring at the rainclouds above us and talking of storms when we hear, ¨RUN! ¨and then CRACK, and I am sprinting, turning and screaming at Veronika, ¨COME NOW!¨ and when we look back, a huge tree is hanging precariously, sections of it´s trunk jutting at awkward angles like broken bones. We laugh nervously to ourselves and turn away.
You can easily imagine that this was what Adam and Eve would have seen, all those millenia ago. The trees are so green, and I can see a tucan perched on a branch over here, and a lizard on a tree trunk over there. The butterflies are still sitting on my backpack. Brazil is just across the river. ¨This is the same view that the Guaraní saw when they first discovered Iguazú Falls¨our tour guide says, and I believe him.
Standing on the edge of a 300 foot tall waterfall, surrounded by 10 other waterfalls. The roar is so loud and the spray is so strong that we all lift up our arms and scream into downpour. We are soaked-absolutely drenched- but deliriously happy.
The barefoot children in San Ignacio surround us, as we rub the sleep out of our eyes and complain about the air conditioning being too cold in our omnibus, they hold out their dirt covered hands and ask for a piece of candy or a glass of water.
As a little train pulls us through the Argentine rain forest, hundreds of brightly colored butterflies follow, perching on our hands, our shoulders, our noses. We lean down and stare at their eyes and their long curled tongues. As we watch, it unfurls and silently licks the salt of off our sunburned skin. You would swear you´ve never been a part of anything that beautiful.
¨One woman a year commits suicide en la garganta del diablo.¨ Our tour guide motions behind him, at a crater of a waterfall, that looks as if God himself reached down and tore a hole in the middle of the Paraná River. Lazily and unaware the water creeps down the river until suddenly the gravity of the 200 foot drop brings it crashing down. The force is so strong that you can´t see where the water hits the rocks, only the white spray. I lean over the railing and watch as the birds weave their way through the falls, effortless, and wonder if those women wished they had wings.
I am parallel to the jungle floor, my arms and legs outstretched like a ballerina on point, above 250 feet of open air. My harness is clipped to the zip line and as I fly through the tops of the trees, I realize there is no where else in the world I would rather be.
Veronika and I are walking through the rust colored dirt, staring at the rainclouds above us and talking of storms when we hear, ¨RUN! ¨and then CRACK, and I am sprinting, turning and screaming at Veronika, ¨COME NOW!¨ and when we look back, a huge tree is hanging precariously, sections of it´s trunk jutting at awkward angles like broken bones. We laugh nervously to ourselves and turn away.
You can easily imagine that this was what Adam and Eve would have seen, all those millenia ago. The trees are so green, and I can see a tucan perched on a branch over here, and a lizard on a tree trunk over there. The butterflies are still sitting on my backpack. Brazil is just across the river. ¨This is the same view that the Guaraní saw when they first discovered Iguazú Falls¨our tour guide says, and I believe him.
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