We roll into to Iguazu a little before 0800. Apparently, I'm the only one who was able to sleep for any worthwhile length time. And apparently, the movie broke before the undoubtedly thankless ending. Nonetheless, the sleepless motley crew remains determined to hit the Iguazu Falls today.
The waterfalls are on one of these seven-wonders-of-some-arbitrary-subbdivision-the-world lists, and so the Argentineans have plucked a tourist tariff of 130 pesos from the wet air. We're more offended because the price for Argentineans is 50 pesos. Nonetheless, it's an impressive show, and it includes monkeys.
For another deep pocket full of pesos, a tourist RIB takes me under and into one of the thickest fall. The boat must be only a few feet away from filling with water. As it is, it's a heavy shower. Rocket-like streams of pulverised water shoot back up out of the water and up as almost as high as it fell. In the thick of it, it's difficult breath and impossible to see.
Our grand finale is the farthest and most impressive fall. It'd be hopeless to describe the view. Pictures from any angle I could get wouldn't suffice either. It's nice. More importantly, I'm looking for more mischief. Rory tells me that a number of tourists suddenly recoiled as I jumped up to straddle the fence at the edge of an eighty-two metre drop into a mist from which the sprays makes a splashzone of the viewing platform. In a pointless demonstration of my trust of Argentinean construction, I sat on the fence facing inwards, then hooked my feet through a lower horizontal post and hung backwards over the fence by my knees for the upside down view. I'm not sure what compels me to do such blatantly puerile things, but it is strong.
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