Cocodrillo Dundee

A week of Bus-merry-go-rounds! After recovering from our postal disappointments, we did the ticket office shuffle to find the next bus to Rosario with the traditional "can we make the 1pm" dilema at 12:58. Came good in the end and 5 hours later we arrived at Rosario; birth place of Snr "Che" Guevara and the Argentinian flag. Dropping our "piglets" (fond nickname for the rucksacks) at the elegantly faded Hotel La Paz made for the all singing, all dancing, all you could eat, belly busting tenedor libre Las Tinjas. Everything on call, from chinese, seafood, BBQ, pasta and not forgetting pancakes anyway you like 'em! Left swearing we wouldn't eat for the next two days...

Rosario's other attractions are its beaches, five hours inland and yep there's white sand gently sloping into the river. A great spot for trip planning, eating popcorn, watching the locals drink their bodyweight in Matè (the local brew, green tea-ish, through a straw), flying kites with varying degrees of success and cruising on their mopeds. The river bank being divided into musical tastes with the rappers breakdancing in their own hood, the rasters behind their smoke screen and grandma and grampa picnicing to folkloric music by the side of the road. An unusual but peaceful cohabitation, must be the matè. Felt smug after doing our bus research in advance, unfortunately the C. Pelligrini an easy 2 hours away wasn't the C Peligrini, gateway to Esteros de Ibera wetlands, 10 hours away needed. Ready to board the bus-merry-go-round again to find the only bus didn't leave until 11pm and even that only went to Mercedes.

After 10 hours in our ice-box bus, arrived in Mercedes sleep deprived with the prospect of a dusty 4 hour combi ride to Colonial Pellegrini. Checked out the delights, or lack of, Mercedes had to offer - don´t mention the raw empanadas - bit down and sucked up another uncomfortable bus trip shared with every local gaucho that could be crammed on board. It was all worth it once we were cruising the beautiful Esteros wetlands, steered skillfully by the bamboo pole of our local guide. Nose to nose with caymans (apparently they aren´t aggressive just like to inflate like rubber pool toys and make heavy breathing noises rivalling P.V.J.s snoring to scare you off), chasing swimming Capybaras (guinea pigs on steroids which you wouldn´t think could float let alone breaststroke), bird spotting and trying to find deer with a spotlight once the sun had gone down. Amazingly still thought the effort was worth while even though we had to catch the (only) combi back to Mercedes at 4am. YAWN!!

With our ability to pull the proverbial rabbit out of the hat on most occassions, hooked up with the 7am bus to Corrientes with 10 minutes to spare. Who said backpacking was all G&Ts on the beach? (Stu before Kaz agreed to go but we won´t mention that). Corrientes? Who knows? We just caught up on sleep at the hotel.

All aboard for the bus-merry-go-round to San Ignacio, well a bit past where we were unceremoniously thrown off the bus when the conductor realised he´d forgotten to go to San Ignacio. Not to worry, you can take chicken bus no.11, you´ll be fine. The Jesuits left some funky stone work home of their pursuit to convert the indigenous folk to their brand of Christianity. Special mention to the tree with a heart of stone. A strangler fig growing around one of the stone columns. Shared a beer with Paula, a giggly 14 year old local infatuated with a french backpacker, Ricky Martin and Bryan Adams.

In keeping with the theme of the week (bad bus journeys if you hadn´t guessed) spent a delightful hour waiting by the side of Ruta 2 to Foz do Iquazu, getting covered in dust by trucks hurtling along. Turned our noses up at the local chicken buses to be tricked onto a luxury coach going to the wrong town and you didn´t actually want a seat or breathing space for you 20 bucks did you? Thankfully we had to be dropped off to catch a bus that was actually going to Iguazu and got there mas o menos in 2 pieces, 5 hours later. Watch out cataratas (waterfalls) here we come after a well deserved dinner and a bit of sleep.

Kaz and Stu (a bit worse for ware)

Bargain of the week: eat yourself to death for $9 in Rosario

Arse of the week: buses, specifically Rio Uruguay

Sight of the week: every bed that wasn´t moving