'guay in Paraguay and Uruguay
From initial impressions Paraguay and Uruguay could not be any different.
My stay in each was very brief but essentially the two neighbouring countries
are like good cop, bad cop standing side by side.
I think that one little story from each that were experienced as soon as I crossed the border will tell you everything.
Getting to Paraguay is easy via Brazil. There is simply one bridge that acts as a border between the two countries, at the Iguazul falls, so I decided to take advantage of the proximity and go and visit.
The taxi driver who drove me to this bridge, (but was not willing to cross it - due to a lack of a passport among other reasons) told me to guard all my belongings with my life, and that it was preferable that if anything was important to me, not to take it with me at all.
Ok, I heard him, but you do have to take a little money, your passport, camera (which was permanently attached to my body anyway by this stage of the trip), and the clothes on my back at least. As I begin to cross the bridge, upon which there are few cars, but lots and lots of motorbikes (the perfered form of transport in Paraguay) I wonder how different a nation can be, given
they have similar if not the same climate, soil, language, religion, and by and large ancestry.
Whilst crossing the bridge, which was not so long, there was a gust of wind and my cap fell off and went into the road. The stream of motorbikes was such that you would be crazy to jump out into the road, but I had followed the cap with my eyes and could see where it had landed. Another motorbike driver also saw the landing, and picked the cap up. I cheered – how kind! I applauded the driver and when he looked over I waved at him with one hand and signalled that it was mine with the other. I had a massive "I'm so grateful" smile on my head, and immediately began to think of ways to thank him – what to say, or what to give. He looked me in the eye, smiled back, and then whilst still watching me he put the cap on his own head and sped on his way, leaving me in his gust of smoke in the background.
I could not believe it. The taxi drivers words wrung in my ears. He was right. Be careful with everything. Unless it is plastered on to you, like your eyebrows, it can be stolen and most probably will be.
The whole town in fact is run upon this philosophy. You could buy any electrical item that you may ever have dreamt of, at just a fraction of the price. You never need to pay more than a quarter of market value for anything – the latest cameras, laptops, palm pilots, camcorders, memory cards, play stations, you name it, they were all there. I felt a little sick because only recently had I had all luggage stolen from my locked hotel room in Argentina. This town was bordering both Brazil and Argentina, so trafficking international stolen goods would not be much of a problem. Only I could not help but search for my own goods, half praying that life would not be so obviously corrupt and sell my own belongings back to me after theft, whilst another part of me was willing and grateful for an opportunity to get my stuff back, and for such a bargain price.
The microphone that had gone with the rest of my belongings was the most valuable item – not in terms of valuable, but in terms of its utility. It was desperately needed and I had investigated and no where in South America could I find a top quality voice recording microphone. In the end I had to have one sent out to me, only for it to be held in customs of various countries on route. So back to Paraguay – it felt dodgy in every respect. The passport control were too busy communicating with the girlfriend of one of the internal officers, so those waiting at the desk to get our passport stamped, were just shooed away. On exit there was no one even manning the passport immigration counter. So just as it did not matter than I was not given a stamp upon entry, exit was just as relaxed and careless.
The men and women also seemed to be careless in a way. Perhaps it was because I was coming from Brazil , but I found the women to really not care about how they looked, as long as lots of flesh was showing. The clothing was generally bad quality and limited, with visible stocking and bras to be the common theme. In this town at least the men were similarly presentable. All clothing was a fake brand, not well copied, and old looking. The people I saw were either street vendors or shoppers and everyone was out to get a deal – me included. I only bought two things, and in each instance I was scared of being 'done'. First I bought a memory card. The only electronic item that my conscience would allow me to buy - for some unknown reason, it did not seem to be an item that was serious in being someone else's property (!). But though you are only meant to pay a fourth of market value, as soon as I came to buy, I realised that rules are different for foreigners, and since it is thought you have money, it is also thought that you should be made to pay more. So bargaining began and all vendors stick together so it is rather difficult – I say this as an someone trained in India, so that's saying something. The second item I bought was sunglasses, perhaps good fakes or stolen (less likely in this case) from a stall. I did not have change and so I had to give a hundred dollar bill, and then as I stood by the stall waiting for the vendor to get change it dawned on me that I was not going to see him again. The sunglasses were two dollars and I had stupidly given a hundred dollars. Nothing on the stall was even worth a dollar, so the vendor could safely leave his merchandise under the watchful eye of his neighbours and disappear until I was tired of waiting for him. After all, what was I going to do? Take off with everything on his stall, and be beaten up by neighbouring vendors? Or tell the police, and again be beaten up (either by the police them selves – it is very common or neighbouring vendors)? Or would I just wait, and wait, and wait, and miss transport out of this city. Nothing was a straight forward as one would have liked.
I left Paraguay with very little change in my pocket – only small coins that would be my souvenir of the country, a memory card and sun glasses. I avoided the skin coloured plastic breast plates on sale everywhere, and passport control again seemed too busy and avoided me. So thankfully with my camera still safely hidden under my armpit, I crossed the border back over to Brazil (capless).
The strange thing is that almost a week after my very shady experiences in Paraguay, I did not have any souvenirs or trace of having visited the country. So there was no stamp on my passport, it would have been silly to take out my camera and any point (an open invitation for the thieves on the streets and in the shops), and my wallet had been pick-pocketed a few days later from my jean pocket on a sub way in Chile – so my souvenir coins had disappeared too. The sunglasses were accidentally lost in a train before I had even worn them, and the memory card was stolen along with the rest of my luggage from my hotel room in Argentina (doh!) So admittedly a little bad luck followed but I thought it interesting that nothing from Paraguay remained in my possession, as you would expect if you buy stolen goods perhaps, (just a thought with respect to karma;).
Uruguay on the other hand was the complete and utter opposite. A country of similar size and importance in South America, and yet it was so pretty, organised and respectful. It was a pleasure to visit through and through, and again only a border town was experienced. But unlike Paraguay, really good food was readily available, it had a strong artistic culture and there was a lot of splendid local art available in terms of paintings, jewellery, beautiful decorative gifts for people and their homes. This town, which is just a ferry ride from Buenos Aires, San Christobal (or something similar) was full of character and charm. From the moment I arrived, on a cold, wet and dark mid week evening, I felt as though I was being looked after. My guide book had suggested a small hotel. But by knocking on the door of the address, I learned that it had since closed down. 'Don't worry, just call me aduelo (grandfather) and I will ensure that you are fine dear grand child' said the owner of the house, 'follow me'. Naively perhaps, I followed, and he lead me to a neighbour's house which had big grand wooden doors and turned out to be the most quaint little guest house that used to house royalty during the days of Portuguese colonisation. With portraits and pictures greeting you at every corner, a grand dinning hall and seating under windows, next open fires, and in uniquely styled reading rooms. My bathroom was the size of a good sized swimming pool with a washing tap, equipment and room for almost each and every part of your body, a huge stand alone bath like in the adverts of Cadbury's Chocolate Flake (apologies to those who do not know why I am getting excited here), and a variety of scented soaps. It was hard to say no, and hereafter it was as though one was being pampered all the way in Uruguay. This is a little like how one can feel in the grander parts of Buenos Aires, which are affordable and so very classy. I could go on about Uruguay, but you get the picture.
My experience of Argentina and Chile was equally as contradictory. Argentina has so much on offer in its beautiful country and it is done with real style. Tango is perhaps one cultural offering that sums up Argentina. There is a rich history that today's experiences are built on; whether this be cuisine, architecture, recreation or culture.
For example, even a place that is normally avoided, such as a cemetery is like a work of pleasurable work of art in Buenos Aires, with each grave in fact being a whole chamber for the family underground. But it is not morbid, but rather a very well maintained, often lit up, scented and decorated chamber with a particular style of tomb. So one family might choose a minimalist, Armani style tomb, while another may create a baroque, roman, or oriental themed vault and so the family's stamp continues.
This brings us back to tango and passion, because Argentina seems to be all about throwing passion into xyz. Tango actually comes from a long history of mafia and was originally a form of displaying your prowess man against man. Today it is the same challenge of energies, but in the form of one of the most highly charged dances that exists between a man and a woman. It is empowered, trusting, and intimate. Great to participate in, watch or be surrounded by, and there is ample opportunity for all in Argentina .
There is also the opportunity for everything and anything else. In the same country you can find the largest glaciers, the wildest and most awesome range of forest colours, entire colonies of species on tear drop islands, ranches and country mansions, tiny huts next to rivers and waterfalls, huge vineyard estates, tropical beaches, hidden lakes in the most challenging of mountain ranges. With the pleasure being in the fact that people have a real pride in their particular region or speciality, and their maintenance of the country shows this. Travel is easy, and to feel welcomed, at ease, and very lucky is even easier. There is a lot to share, because people are so receptive and aware, as well as being beautiful in many other respects too.
I know it seems as though I fall in love with every place I visit, but really, it is hard not to be happy in Argentina. Chile however, is my chance to say something different, if you like variety. My personal experience is that life was a lot more bland and almost boring in Chile, and this is again reflected in the cuisine, architecture and national pastimes. Of course there are many unique and wonderful places to escape to, my personal favourite being Atacama Desert for the way in which it is one of the best windows to our solar system. The way in which one can see observe the sky in this mountainous desert with almost continuous clear skies is unparalleled anywhere else in the world. The largest telescopic array in the world (made up of 36 separate telescopes) is currently being set up near San Pedro, and will provide our best insight into how stars are formed, how they die and all in between, looking further, wider and deeper than we ever have before.
The Atacama Desert, to my surprise, is one place where you can become lost in many wondrous adventures, for there are so many differences in what sand can produce and at the height of the Andes some of the most impressive dune valleys in the world have taken shape. It is a little like visiting the Taj Mahal in different places, for the sand is like white marble in some places, almost dusky pink in others, and deep brown in others. The texture of the formations produced by years of wind erosion combined with the tricks of sunlight creates some out of this world sights that are beyond imagination.
I suppose I should not be so down on Chile therefore, and I am sorry if I have offended any Chileans. But to my defence (!) the rest of South America sort of feels the same. Chile does not have good relations with its neighbours for many reasons. And when leaving Chile for Peru I experienced first hand why this might be. Chile's national airline had an ad campaign trying to put people off Peru, so that one would stay longer in Chile! At this point I knew it was time to leave!
My stay in each was very brief but essentially the two neighbouring countries
are like good cop, bad cop standing side by side.
I think that one little story from each that were experienced as soon as I crossed the border will tell you everything.
Getting to Paraguay is easy via Brazil. There is simply one bridge that acts as a border between the two countries, at the Iguazul falls, so I decided to take advantage of the proximity and go and visit.
The taxi driver who drove me to this bridge, (but was not willing to cross it - due to a lack of a passport among other reasons) told me to guard all my belongings with my life, and that it was preferable that if anything was important to me, not to take it with me at all.
Ok, I heard him, but you do have to take a little money, your passport, camera (which was permanently attached to my body anyway by this stage of the trip), and the clothes on my back at least. As I begin to cross the bridge, upon which there are few cars, but lots and lots of motorbikes (the perfered form of transport in Paraguay) I wonder how different a nation can be, given
they have similar if not the same climate, soil, language, religion, and by and large ancestry.
Whilst crossing the bridge, which was not so long, there was a gust of wind and my cap fell off and went into the road. The stream of motorbikes was such that you would be crazy to jump out into the road, but I had followed the cap with my eyes and could see where it had landed. Another motorbike driver also saw the landing, and picked the cap up. I cheered – how kind! I applauded the driver and when he looked over I waved at him with one hand and signalled that it was mine with the other. I had a massive "I'm so grateful" smile on my head, and immediately began to think of ways to thank him – what to say, or what to give. He looked me in the eye, smiled back, and then whilst still watching me he put the cap on his own head and sped on his way, leaving me in his gust of smoke in the background.
I could not believe it. The taxi drivers words wrung in my ears. He was right. Be careful with everything. Unless it is plastered on to you, like your eyebrows, it can be stolen and most probably will be.
The whole town in fact is run upon this philosophy. You could buy any electrical item that you may ever have dreamt of, at just a fraction of the price. You never need to pay more than a quarter of market value for anything – the latest cameras, laptops, palm pilots, camcorders, memory cards, play stations, you name it, they were all there. I felt a little sick because only recently had I had all luggage stolen from my locked hotel room in Argentina. This town was bordering both Brazil and Argentina, so trafficking international stolen goods would not be much of a problem. Only I could not help but search for my own goods, half praying that life would not be so obviously corrupt and sell my own belongings back to me after theft, whilst another part of me was willing and grateful for an opportunity to get my stuff back, and for such a bargain price.
The microphone that had gone with the rest of my belongings was the most valuable item – not in terms of valuable, but in terms of its utility. It was desperately needed and I had investigated and no where in South America could I find a top quality voice recording microphone. In the end I had to have one sent out to me, only for it to be held in customs of various countries on route. So back to Paraguay – it felt dodgy in every respect. The passport control were too busy communicating with the girlfriend of one of the internal officers, so those waiting at the desk to get our passport stamped, were just shooed away. On exit there was no one even manning the passport immigration counter. So just as it did not matter than I was not given a stamp upon entry, exit was just as relaxed and careless.
The men and women also seemed to be careless in a way. Perhaps it was because I was coming from Brazil , but I found the women to really not care about how they looked, as long as lots of flesh was showing. The clothing was generally bad quality and limited, with visible stocking and bras to be the common theme. In this town at least the men were similarly presentable. All clothing was a fake brand, not well copied, and old looking. The people I saw were either street vendors or shoppers and everyone was out to get a deal – me included. I only bought two things, and in each instance I was scared of being 'done'. First I bought a memory card. The only electronic item that my conscience would allow me to buy - for some unknown reason, it did not seem to be an item that was serious in being someone else's property (!). But though you are only meant to pay a fourth of market value, as soon as I came to buy, I realised that rules are different for foreigners, and since it is thought you have money, it is also thought that you should be made to pay more. So bargaining began and all vendors stick together so it is rather difficult – I say this as an someone trained in India, so that's saying something. The second item I bought was sunglasses, perhaps good fakes or stolen (less likely in this case) from a stall. I did not have change and so I had to give a hundred dollar bill, and then as I stood by the stall waiting for the vendor to get change it dawned on me that I was not going to see him again. The sunglasses were two dollars and I had stupidly given a hundred dollars. Nothing on the stall was even worth a dollar, so the vendor could safely leave his merchandise under the watchful eye of his neighbours and disappear until I was tired of waiting for him. After all, what was I going to do? Take off with everything on his stall, and be beaten up by neighbouring vendors? Or tell the police, and again be beaten up (either by the police them selves – it is very common or neighbouring vendors)? Or would I just wait, and wait, and wait, and miss transport out of this city. Nothing was a straight forward as one would have liked.
I left Paraguay with very little change in my pocket – only small coins that would be my souvenir of the country, a memory card and sun glasses. I avoided the skin coloured plastic breast plates on sale everywhere, and passport control again seemed too busy and avoided me. So thankfully with my camera still safely hidden under my armpit, I crossed the border back over to Brazil (capless).
The strange thing is that almost a week after my very shady experiences in Paraguay, I did not have any souvenirs or trace of having visited the country. So there was no stamp on my passport, it would have been silly to take out my camera and any point (an open invitation for the thieves on the streets and in the shops), and my wallet had been pick-pocketed a few days later from my jean pocket on a sub way in Chile – so my souvenir coins had disappeared too. The sunglasses were accidentally lost in a train before I had even worn them, and the memory card was stolen along with the rest of my luggage from my hotel room in Argentina (doh!) So admittedly a little bad luck followed but I thought it interesting that nothing from Paraguay remained in my possession, as you would expect if you buy stolen goods perhaps, (just a thought with respect to karma;).
Uruguay on the other hand was the complete and utter opposite. A country of similar size and importance in South America, and yet it was so pretty, organised and respectful. It was a pleasure to visit through and through, and again only a border town was experienced. But unlike Paraguay, really good food was readily available, it had a strong artistic culture and there was a lot of splendid local art available in terms of paintings, jewellery, beautiful decorative gifts for people and their homes. This town, which is just a ferry ride from Buenos Aires, San Christobal (or something similar) was full of character and charm. From the moment I arrived, on a cold, wet and dark mid week evening, I felt as though I was being looked after. My guide book had suggested a small hotel. But by knocking on the door of the address, I learned that it had since closed down. 'Don't worry, just call me aduelo (grandfather) and I will ensure that you are fine dear grand child' said the owner of the house, 'follow me'. Naively perhaps, I followed, and he lead me to a neighbour's house which had big grand wooden doors and turned out to be the most quaint little guest house that used to house royalty during the days of Portuguese colonisation. With portraits and pictures greeting you at every corner, a grand dinning hall and seating under windows, next open fires, and in uniquely styled reading rooms. My bathroom was the size of a good sized swimming pool with a washing tap, equipment and room for almost each and every part of your body, a huge stand alone bath like in the adverts of Cadbury's Chocolate Flake (apologies to those who do not know why I am getting excited here), and a variety of scented soaps. It was hard to say no, and hereafter it was as though one was being pampered all the way in Uruguay. This is a little like how one can feel in the grander parts of Buenos Aires, which are affordable and so very classy. I could go on about Uruguay, but you get the picture.
My experience of Argentina and Chile was equally as contradictory. Argentina has so much on offer in its beautiful country and it is done with real style. Tango is perhaps one cultural offering that sums up Argentina. There is a rich history that today's experiences are built on; whether this be cuisine, architecture, recreation or culture.
For example, even a place that is normally avoided, such as a cemetery is like a work of pleasurable work of art in Buenos Aires, with each grave in fact being a whole chamber for the family underground. But it is not morbid, but rather a very well maintained, often lit up, scented and decorated chamber with a particular style of tomb. So one family might choose a minimalist, Armani style tomb, while another may create a baroque, roman, or oriental themed vault and so the family's stamp continues.
This brings us back to tango and passion, because Argentina seems to be all about throwing passion into xyz. Tango actually comes from a long history of mafia and was originally a form of displaying your prowess man against man. Today it is the same challenge of energies, but in the form of one of the most highly charged dances that exists between a man and a woman. It is empowered, trusting, and intimate. Great to participate in, watch or be surrounded by, and there is ample opportunity for all in Argentina .
There is also the opportunity for everything and anything else. In the same country you can find the largest glaciers, the wildest and most awesome range of forest colours, entire colonies of species on tear drop islands, ranches and country mansions, tiny huts next to rivers and waterfalls, huge vineyard estates, tropical beaches, hidden lakes in the most challenging of mountain ranges. With the pleasure being in the fact that people have a real pride in their particular region or speciality, and their maintenance of the country shows this. Travel is easy, and to feel welcomed, at ease, and very lucky is even easier. There is a lot to share, because people are so receptive and aware, as well as being beautiful in many other respects too.
I know it seems as though I fall in love with every place I visit, but really, it is hard not to be happy in Argentina. Chile however, is my chance to say something different, if you like variety. My personal experience is that life was a lot more bland and almost boring in Chile, and this is again reflected in the cuisine, architecture and national pastimes. Of course there are many unique and wonderful places to escape to, my personal favourite being Atacama Desert for the way in which it is one of the best windows to our solar system. The way in which one can see observe the sky in this mountainous desert with almost continuous clear skies is unparalleled anywhere else in the world. The largest telescopic array in the world (made up of 36 separate telescopes) is currently being set up near San Pedro, and will provide our best insight into how stars are formed, how they die and all in between, looking further, wider and deeper than we ever have before.
The Atacama Desert, to my surprise, is one place where you can become lost in many wondrous adventures, for there are so many differences in what sand can produce and at the height of the Andes some of the most impressive dune valleys in the world have taken shape. It is a little like visiting the Taj Mahal in different places, for the sand is like white marble in some places, almost dusky pink in others, and deep brown in others. The texture of the formations produced by years of wind erosion combined with the tricks of sunlight creates some out of this world sights that are beyond imagination.
I suppose I should not be so down on Chile therefore, and I am sorry if I have offended any Chileans. But to my defence (!) the rest of South America sort of feels the same. Chile does not have good relations with its neighbours for many reasons. And when leaving Chile for Peru I experienced first hand why this might be. Chile's national airline had an ad campaign trying to put people off Peru, so that one would stay longer in Chile! At this point I knew it was time to leave!
posted by Mandeep Rai at 6:54 AM
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