Foz, my kingdon for a foz

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  Foz de Iguacu, State of Parana, Brazil
Saturday, June 21, 2008

Entering Brazil: June 21 2008

We woke up this morning, finally ready to enter Brazil after fiddling about in Iguazu and Viejo Americano camping place.

It was an interesting experience, thinking about heading into this huge, foreboding country for the first time.

Firstly we need a visa, and finding that it is only a 30 day visa that is issued in Iguazu was the first shock, the second shock was how much it cost. There was a pause for thought when that one came up. Maybe we should go back to Peru and re-trace our footsteps? NO! we're going to the Pantanal, and that's the only way.

So, after 2 very expensive (but quickly issued) 30 day visas were purchased, we then went on to find the only vet in town, who promptly issued a very not-official-looking health certificate that he promised would be accepted for entry into Brazil. We had been following official requirements quite often for pet entry into the various countries, and it really sounded like Brazil was one of the "difficult" ones. NOT! They couldn't care less about Gillie when it came to actually crossing the border. Ah well, live and learn.

Oh, and by the way, you will suddenly not understand a single word that is said to you anymore.

Portuguese is a lot like Chinese/German, or perhaps Italian/Korean when you first hear it. Thankfully, it's easy to read, and it looks a lot like Spanish in that regard. But to hear it..... phew, what a difference.

In order to make up for this oddity, all Brazilians are incredibly friendly and really helpful. EVERYONE wants to help and suddenly you realize that learning Austrian/Cambodian is not all that necessary after all.

The money is the Real, pronounced HayAh, for some reason related to the odd language thing.

Once across the border we find a few things change suddenly: the architecture is interesting, the roads are clean, and there are garbage cans everywhere that people actually USE. What a pity that the rest of South America hasn't caught into that concept.

We find International Camping right away, and immediately find the answer to the age old question: where do all the huge Rotel "rolling hotels" go to rest (or die?). Here they are, all of these behemoth busses just lying in wait for the first tourist victims of the season to appear with their bulging wallets.

We get to experience a Saturday night Brazilian style, which is to say relatively quietly, compared with Argentinean midnight BBQs. It's only an overnight stop here, and in the morning, we try to visit the Falls from this side.

Unfortunately, we find that it is impossible now to drive into the park on the Brazilian side, and that one must take a bus in , after paying $10 just to park the car. It seemed such a disappointing money grab, that we just drove off and northward, away from this area, because we were very satisfied with our visit on the Argy side already.

So, it's off to the highway system, and yet another culture shock. This is the land where truckers are king. Monster truckstops are everywhere