As Han mentioned in the last installment we now had the task finding a way to Iguazu Falls, Argentina. There are several ways and none of them particularly easy or straight forward. So, in true backpacker fashion we went for the most exciting route through Paraguay and the Gran Chaco.
Leaving Samiapata by colectivo taxi is the norm but after siting in the square for an hour it looked like we were the only ones heading out of town that day. We had only one option - to pay the price of four people. The mammoth journey began as we hurtled round corners and roads became gravel tracks and later became littered with speed bumps.
Once we arrived in Santa Cruz, at around 17:00, we made our way to the bus terminal and haggled for a ticket to Asuncion, the Paraguayan capital. Sometimes choice becomes a problem and as there were numerous companies going that way, all offering the same discount, all under exaggerating the length of time it would take and all promising a clean, safe bus…haha! We bought the $55 ticket that all we knew would get us to Asuncion and then on to Ciudad del Este, on the Paraguayan border, somehow.
As the sun went down the heat remained, the terminal was throbbing with people and fumes. Undercover police marched around checking passports and the Bolivian drug police, the FELCN, searched every bus coming in and going out, the sniffer dogs were brought out and paraded up and down our luggage. Mine was picked out and I had great pleasure in taking out the Malaria tablets the dog had caught a whiff of.
The night past on our bumpy bus with babies screaming and the smell of the toilet that was centimetres from our heads. As the sun rose the following morning the sight of dusty roads and the endless scrub of the Chaco greeted us. The only amusement that I could find was the conductor looked the spitting image of Ben Brewster (TV Director extraordinaire), maybe he was a long lost brother?
The Lonely Planet Guide to South America describes the Trans Chaco as a journey for “hearty souls” and by the 15:00, 18 hours in, my soul wanted to get out and walk. The Chaco occupies 60% of Paraguay and it is largely desert and scrub land with this single dirt track through it, connecting Bolivia and Paraguay. The sun was the hottest we had experienced and the lack of water in the toilet system produced an unbearable smell. The sweat was pouring off us as the bus twisted and turned. The only ventilation was, of course, our window which when opened filled the coach with a cloud of dust, even so anything was better than the smell of that toilet!
It soon became apparent the timings we had been told were as far from reality as we were from a hot bath in a Hilton. By late afternoon we arrived at the Paraguayan border control and after the usual sitting about for half an hour we were ordered to line up all our belongings for the sniffer dog and police checks. The burley and officious looking police were completely shown up when they brought out their mangy looking drug dog. He had other ideas and rather than being keen to hunt out drugs, he kept running off into the scrub and playing with his ball.
We rolled on and around 23:00 we were arriving in Asuncion and searching for our midnight departure to Ciudad del Este. Simple things count for a great deal when traveling by bus and the cool, clean and quiet ambience of this new bus was a world away from our Chaco chicken coup. We awoke as we were pulling into Ciudad del Este terminal, it was 5am. Inside the terminal people were slow and sleepy, the air was cool and refreshing and our 6am local bus to the border arrived promptly. A twenty minute ride and we were being dropped by immigration, exit stamps stamped and we were waiting for the next bus across the ‘Friendship Bridge’. Linking Paraguay, Brazil and Argentina this is a major union for commuters who work in any of these countries. The tri-border crossing was a hum of moto-taxis, colectivos and pedestrians. After sometime we caught a bus direct to the Argentinean immigration and then on to the town of Puerto Iguazu, Argentina. By midday our thirty-nine hour journey was over and we were relaxing on the poolside of Residencial Amigos.
Leaving Samiapata by colectivo taxi is the norm but after siting in the square for an hour it looked like we were the only ones heading out of town that day. We had only one option - to pay the price of four people. The mammoth journey began as we hurtled round corners and roads became gravel tracks and later became littered with speed bumps.
Once we arrived in Santa Cruz, at around 17:00, we made our way to the bus terminal and haggled for a ticket to Asuncion, the Paraguayan capital. Sometimes choice becomes a problem and as there were numerous companies going that way, all offering the same discount, all under exaggerating the length of time it would take and all promising a clean, safe bus…haha! We bought the $55 ticket that all we knew would get us to Asuncion and then on to Ciudad del Este, on the Paraguayan border, somehow.
As the sun went down the heat remained, the terminal was throbbing with people and fumes. Undercover police marched around checking passports and the Bolivian drug police, the FELCN, searched every bus coming in and going out, the sniffer dogs were brought out and paraded up and down our luggage. Mine was picked out and I had great pleasure in taking out the Malaria tablets the dog had caught a whiff of.
The night past on our bumpy bus with babies screaming and the smell of the toilet that was centimetres from our heads. As the sun rose the following morning the sight of dusty roads and the endless scrub of the Chaco greeted us. The only amusement that I could find was the conductor looked the spitting image of Ben Brewster (TV Director extraordinaire), maybe he was a long lost brother? The Lonely Planet Guide to South America describes the Trans Chaco as a journey for “hearty souls” and by the 15:00, 18 hours in, my soul wanted to get out and walk. The Chaco occupies 60% of Paraguay and it is largely desert and scrub land with this single dirt track through it, connecting Bolivia and Paraguay. The sun was the hottest we had experienced and the lack of water in the toilet system produced an unbearable smell. The sweat was pouring off us as the bus twisted and turned. The only ventilation was, of course, our window which when opened filled the coach with a cloud of dust, even so anything was better than the smell of that toilet!
It soon became apparent the timings we had been told were as far from reality as we were from a hot bath in a Hilton. By late afternoon we arrived at the Paraguayan border control and after the usual sitting about for half an hour we were ordered to line up all our belongings for the sniffer dog and police checks. The burley and officious looking police were completely shown up when they brought out their mangy looking drug dog. He had other ideas and rather than being keen to hunt out drugs, he kept running off into the scrub and playing with his ball.
We rolled on and around 23:00 we were arriving in Asuncion and searching for our midnight departure to Ciudad del Este. Simple things count for a great deal when traveling by bus and the cool, clean and quiet ambience of this new bus was a world away from our Chaco chicken coup. We awoke as we were pulling into Ciudad del Este terminal, it was 5am. Inside the terminal people were slow and sleepy, the air was cool and refreshing and our 6am local bus to the border arrived promptly. A twenty minute ride and we were being dropped by immigration, exit stamps stamped and we were waiting for the next bus across the ‘Friendship Bridge’. Linking Paraguay, Brazil and Argentina this is a major union for commuters who work in any of these countries. The tri-border crossing was a hum of moto-taxis, colectivos and pedestrians. After sometime we caught a bus direct to the Argentinean immigration and then on to the town of Puerto Iguazu, Argentina. By midday our thirty-nine hour journey was over and we were relaxing on the poolside of Residencial Amigos.
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