Lets go to Paraguay... it´ll be different, its close, and despite the rain, I bet the ruins are cool,I suggest. Done. Houston, we have a plan.
The next nine hours are to be like no other travelling I´ve ever done in my entire life. The first thing we do is cross El Rio Paraná, which is the border between Argentina and Paraguay, in the International Collectivo, or local bus. Its pretty crowded on the bus already and we push our way to the back. A quick trip through town brings us to the border and there´s a huge line of traffic. Danny suggests walking across but we are advised that its too far. As I shoot out the window, particularily a traffic sign that says no horse-drawn carts allowed on the bridge (WHAT?!), the bus lurches forward and we take a special bus lane all the way up to the actual border crossing. The Argentine officials punch at their computers and finally say we are free to go. We run back to the collectivo, which for some reason is now more crowded than before and leave Argentina, crossing this massive bridge that spans El Rio Paraná. I´m in the very front, excited and shooting like crazy. When we finally arrive on the other side its the same thing. Everyone off the bus to clear customs.
This is where it starts to get interesting. (For more on this crossing, check out Travel Burro´s version here.) The Paraguayan border official - typical Latina American cop type - tells us that we can not cross into Paraguay without visas from the Paraguayan consulate back in Posadas, Argentina. The guide book (never trust them) didn´t say anything as such and we tell the official as much.
On the 9th of August last year, the US goverenment change the requirements,, he declares.
It´s 290,000 Guaraní,which to us translates to 290,000 indigenous peoples from Paraguay - or a shit load of indians! $50.00 USD for each person to visit Paraguay... even for just one day.
Hmmmm....
Que triste,Aimee sighs. He then launches into a long-winded explanation of how we actually could go into Paraguay for the day and only pay the price of one visa that would work for all three of us. For some reason, we all agree and then strangely enough he doesn´t stamp our passports, letting us pass into Paraguay illegally.
But you must be back by midnight,he demands. We walk ahead and then stop. Danny wonders if we should go BACK to Posadas to see if we really need visas or just what the deal really is. Nah... were here, lets just go. Fuck it.
Walking away from the border crossing, I get this strange feeling. I´ve done this before in Latin America... and it didn´t turn out so well. The next thing I see is a moto-taxi stand... a WHAT?!?! Dude, we´ve GOT to get on those. All of a sudden the three of us are whizzing in and out of traffic into the center of Encarnación, the other side of the river (like that song that won the academy award last year) - and its a different world entirely. We zig zag over the freshly wet streets and I prepare to tuck and roll each time we bounce over the wet train tracks. I´m also not holding on as I snap pictures all the way into town, mostly of Danny and Aimee - proof that this is really happening. As we pull into the bus station and dismount, still sore from the 20K on horseback two days before, a man in a blue uniform shouts,
last call for Trinidad!. Wait, that´s us... we scramble aboard and suddenly off again. I´ve not really been paying attention, rather shooting as much as I can. Unfortunatly I didn´t listen to Steele´s advice about ALWAYS caring the big glass and have left my camera bag back in Argentina... because of the weather.
Speeding out into the country the dirt is sooo red, African savanah red. But everything else is green. The air smells of burning trash, or fields, or brush... probably trash. The sun begins to poke its benevolent head in and out of the clouds while cows and horses freely graze along the side of the two-lane highway. Suddenly Danny is waving his arms at me, out on that same dirt road. I had been so enraptured in the moment looking out the window with my own personal iPod soundtrack - Iggy Pop, I Am the Passenger, Queen, You´re My Best Friend, Elton John, Tiny Dancer (which now makes me think only of Samantha), The Band, The Weight (which I have always loved but never knew the name)...
I hastily gather my things and leap of the bus which is pulling away from them, out on to the street - burnt red from the sun and all of the iron in the dirt. The iPod yanks around my next and I´m tangled in camera strap and iPod wires. The first thing I see is a horse, casually grazing inside a barbed wire complex, which is actually a power plant, a big one. Yep, definately in Paraguay where the horses freely grace under, and immediately next to, monsterous and buzzing sub stations. We walk up the dirt road, just the three of us and a couple of random chickens and dogs. Once again I spot them - MORMONS!
You gotta shoot that,Danny says somewhat ironically. I double back, busting in on an afternoon lunch - the entire family and then these two baby-faced young boys, one is from Hemmit, CA.
The next three hours are a total paradisical oasis of green grass, lush Jesuit ruins and drinking mate under the hot winter sun.
This is the fucking story!Danny decrees. We leave, returning down that same dirt road. I´ve got about 40 shots left for the rest of the day, for the lesser travelled ´Jesus´ruins. Damn - now I wish I would have brought ALL my gear instead of accquiesing (sp) to the meanacing rain which has now completely dissappeared. We walk up the main road a bit to another crossroads where a multi-colored little bus is parked out in front of a modernish gas station. The arrival of three gringos walking up the road causes quite a stir with the driver and several passengers as they stand outside passing around mate. Yes, this is the bus to the town of Jesus and the ruins which are just beyond the town. The bus ride to Jesus is another almost miraculous experience.
That was absolutely the best bus ride ever,Aimee would later state.
The bus has to be at least 70 years old. The range of passengers spans the gamuet from an old indigenous-looking woman who sleeps as we bounce down the red dirt road to a young boy in a camoflouge cowboy hat, curiously watching us the entire time, to a group of school teachers sitting up front together.
Don´t worry about pictures of this next mission,Danny reassures me.
Half the story is this bus ride!
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