About three weeks back I took a 17 hour bus trip to Iguassu Falls, Paraná, to spend a few days with my friend Simone. She is a Brazilian who I met last year when she came to study with her boyfriend at my university in Australia, and who was back home to spend the summer with her family.
I arrived early in the morning, had breakfast and a chat in German with her gaucho father, and off we went to the Três Fronteiras, where the three countries, Brazil, Argentina, and Paraguay meet. Later on, we went to the town's famous waterfalls, which, despite Simone's insistance that they were particularly 'dry' this year, were still amazingly impressive. Later in the afternoon, we went to the neighbouring Parque das Aves, a zoo where we were able to get close to and touch some toucans and ararás.
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| Parque das Aves |
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| Cataratas - Waterfalls |
That night, I met her aunt, uncle and cousin who had come down from São Paulo state to spend a few days in Iguassu. They were relatives from her Japanese side of the family, her mother's side. They were also enjoying popping over the border to Argentina and Paraguay to do some shopping during their stay. The next day, we joined them in Paraguay.
Paraguay, for Brazilians, is shopping-central. It is not the most pleasant shopping environment (think: Manaus) but worth it for the money saved. We took a bus over the bridge which divided the two countries. On each end of the bridge was a former check-point, still standing but now more-or-less empty. Simone pointed out the tattered-looking fence on the sides of the bridge. Apparently, in order to get past the border guards, people used to buy contraband cigarettes in Paraguay and throw them over the side of the bridge to their 'business partners' waiting on the Brazilian side underneath the bridge (away from the guards). To counteract this, a barbed wire fence was put up. But people just made holes, and threw the cigarettes over anyway. And then the Brazilian government would fix them up again. And the smugglers would open them up again. Hence the tattered fences. Nowadays, thanks to Mercosul, the borders are pretty relaxed, and you can come and go as you please. When we took the bus back into Brazil, customs briefly stopped the bus, to pick on people with huge bags of purchases, and we went on our way.
The next day, we went to Itaipu Binational, the second-largest hydroplant in the world. It powers practically all of Paraguay and about 20% of Brazil. It is a huge plant, with a huge number of employees, and has an important role in the region.
On the way home from that excursion, I asked Simone about an anklet I had noticed her wearing the whole time I had been there. She explained that it was a Fita do Senhor do Bomfim, a little ribbon from Bahia, which is given as a gift. The user ties three knots into the ribbon, making a mental wish with each knot. When the ribbon falls off, by disintegrating, the wishes are said to come true. The ribbon can only be given as a gift. Hearing this, I became very interested; I was, after all, in the middle of a job search and had been having a bit of bad luck recently. The only problem was, I needed someone to give me a fitinha as a gift. I asked if the ribbon would still work its magic if I asked someone to give it to me. I didn't know anyone going to Bahia soon. Would my attaching the wishes to the ribbon prevent them from occurring before the ribbon came apart, if the chance came? What would happen if I told someone my wishes? Her relatives noticed my apparent eagerness and Simone's cousin had a look in the glovebox to see if there were any fitinhas to give me. I was in luck! I carefully and strategically made my wishes. If they come true, I know who I will be writing my thank-you letter to! Hehehe.
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| Fitas do Senhor do Bomfim |
That afternoon I got on the bus back to São Paulo. The trip back was 4 hours longer and 100% more frustrating than the trip down. I was stuck at the very back of the bus, next to a Paraguayan man who wouldn't stop talking to me, sweating to death, and was among the very few passengers on the bus who were not smuggling contraband whatever back up to São Paulo. I caught on to this after the third time the bus stopped in the middle of puta que pariu (Portuguese for 'woop-woop', as we say in Australia. It literally means 'the-whore-that-gave-birth') in Paraná, and the same old man came around the bus collecting money from the same 20 or so people. He was collecting money to bribe police with. Needless to say, this happening, repeatedly, made the trip a bit frustrating. Especially when we crossed the border into São Paulo at 3AM and the police decided to wake me up, to do a random check on me, instead of, gee, I don't know, the 20 criminals around me. Yes.
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| Hosts in Iguassu Falls |
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