(Tamara)

The sun rose and welcomed a new day, crimson red and blood orange seeped through the gaps in the curtains. Peering through them we were faced with a surreal surprise; luscious foliage, vast palm trees and wooden houses whisked by. After 20 hours on a bus we were very happy to leave the city and enter the jungle. True South American style, we were given a breakfast any dentist would gasp in horror at: two cakes, three biscuits and an additional complimentary cake, just to ensure your sugar rush was above optimal level. We stepped off the bus in Puerto Iguazu, our stay for 6 nights to visit the Iguazu Falls. Within a second of departure from the air conditioning my genetic curse struck again. Loreal had decided, Tamara you're not worth it, and had failed to produce a product that could tame my increasingly frizzy mane. As true English men do, once blessed with the sun we instantly began to complain. Luckily our hostel was a road away but the humidity and our bags made each step feel like a mile. We saw the sign in the distance, abandoned, tatty and broken; every myth of a desert mirage is a total lie.

You should never judge a book by it's cover, the hostel was pleasantly inviting. Equipped with a large swimming pool, games room, kitchen and our own room we were more than happy. The only downside was the lack of wifi. I hate to admit in this day and age we depend on it but with our money cards needing a top up it was definitely a necessity. We had arrived in low season which meant the hostel was deserted, except for the swarms of mosquitoes and street dogs... Let me tell you a bit about life as a mutt in Puerto Iguazu. Life is tough, life is dangerous. It is as they say, a dog eat dog world out there. You see them, flea infested, skin and bone, covered in wounds, doing what they can to get by. Dogs in England don't know how good they've got it. Asleep on plush throws, stomachs full with wagu burgers and dressed in jumpers; they wouldn't last a second in the real world.

The supermarket was abismal, fruit and veg rotted before our eyes and needless to say the Argentine price tag still continued to take chunks out of our pocket change. But the essentials were there. We christened our first night with chicken pasta, adding an extra flavour of oregano to match our exotic new surroundings. Ready for bed George revelled in his new military operation, securing the mosquito net around the bed. I can assure this was done to such a high standard that when I attempted a toilet visit during the night the whole ceiling was nearly brought along with me.

Our alarm clock startled us at 07.15am, we had adjusted to South American time and to life as travellers; 07:15am was certainly not a sane time to wake. Today, however was no ordinary day, but the day we were due to visit one of the seven wonders of the world, Iguazu Falls. Sun cream and mosquito spray wafted from our bedroom door, and with our rain jackets, caps, binoculars and map at the ready we locked our room. The maid down the corridor shook her head, 'typical gringos'. We effortlessly hopped on to a public bus to the falls and were pleased to be surrounded by equally as eager tourists. Like excited school children we ran to collect our tickets and narrowly missing out on paying the Argentinian price, George and I had reached our paradise falls. I cannot and will not try to encapsulate my experience of the falls into descriptive words, the sheer magnitude of beauty and natural creation left me speechless; the photos and videos can do the talking. Instead I will use an exercise to share my personal experience.

Within Psychology we use a tool called the 'five senses'. This encourages a person to transport themselves back to their happy place when they need to restore positive emotions, by focusing on their five senses they can feel calmness and bliss. These are my five senses as experienced at the falls:
1. Sound - Leaves in the breeze, crashing ferocious waves, gentle flowing water, birdsong, crickets rustling, laughter and gasps of awe.
2. Sight - Eternal rainbows in the spray of the water, magnificent birds soaring in the heavens, a plethora of animals (monkey, lizards, tapir, snake, enormous ants, coati, beautiful butterflies), cascading waterfalls in every shape and size, the smile on George's face.
3. Smell - Musky scent where bats hide in rocks, fresh water, sweat.
4. Taste - Iced water, mosquito spray, £7 subway (yes £7!!)
5. Touch - Butterflies landing on fingertips, scorching sun beating on my skin, cooling water spray, wooden rails, my adventure companion's hand to hold along the way.

If I were to ever implement that exercise in daily life, my happy place would be Iguazu Falls.

(George)

We awoke to our netted cocoon once again, exotic birds chirped and tweeted as the wind carried their calls through our bedroom window. Tranquility blessed us for a minute until I realised that Tamara's restless legs had usurped our mosquito defences. We were immediately plunged into DEFCON-1, all battle stations were manned and any form of insecticide was utilised. Having already experienced the sufferance and evil of mosquito bites we were on red alert, we could only speculate at the abominable diseases currently threatening us. With my rigorous checks for insect life completed we headed to breakfast for our daily piece of bread and lick of butter.

Arriving at Park Iguazu we made use of the half price rate for those visiting on consecutive days. As we handed over our tickets the guard quickly checked for an inconspicuous orange mark we had acquired on our departure the previous afternoon. Words were exchanged before we were permitted entry, mostly received in Spanish and offered in English - the Argentinian accent still proved to be a language in its own right. Nonetheless, our entry was granted and we hastened towards our next adventure.

Two days previous to this moment we had acquired the 'Pasaporte Verde' - 'Green Passport' ticket for our Monday at the falls. This ticket offered an action packed day with no less than an ecological river tour, 5km jungle safari and a boat ride up the river, finishing underneath the falls themselves. With so much to do we evaluated our options, embark on our pre-paid river tour or trek a round 7km to a waterfall under which swimming is permitted. Due to the impending fact that I needed a scrub, we opted for the opportunity to bathe in the mist of the enigmatic waterfall, Salto Arrechea.

Tales had been whispered in hushed tones of the illustrious jaguars that roamed the outer forest, rumours circulated like wildfire of missing tourists and rangers sons falling victim to their swift savagery. Unsure of what lay ahead we found the 3.5km path into the unknown. I now believe the trek would have made Steve Irwin turn in his grave; this was not the land of jaguars and snakes we had been warned of. We were instead under an ethereal canopy of towering trees with crickets rustling and bustling in the fauna. Butterflies drifted on the breeze, nonchalantly swooping through the well worn path. Monkeys howls could be heard from a distance in the treetops whilst giant ants scurried to and fro at regular crossing points. After spending 20 minutes attempting to photograph a spiders web that was majestically suspended in sun light, we completed our walk and arrived at Salto Arrechea.

We found a handful of brave adventurers lazily sprawled across the rocks opposing the waterfall, those present sluggishly raised an eyelid to survey the new arrivals before proceeding to bask in the Suns warm embrace. We had stumbled across a picturesque arena, the consensus of the pool implicated that only one brave gladiator may face the rocks of the waterfall at any given time. With each champion waiting their turn to face the perennial cascade we stripped down and prepared ourselves for our inauguration. Our numbers were up and we each took turns to swim out to the roaring chaos. Arriving at the jagged rocks, danger was thick in the air. The wet surface glinted in the mist providing a constant reminder of the fate a false move could result in. Making use of all four limbs I paid tribute to our hominid heritage, scaling rocks in a manner best suited to the mighty apes/John Turtle. Having navigated the algae, I stood behind the veil of the fall - a private vantage point shielded from the outside world. With grit and determination I slid myself down the only smooth area of rock into the epicentre of the fall, my breath was stolen by the cold hammers that rained upon my uncovered torso. A thousand power showers had been unleashed, all connected to a faulty boiler. Upon reaching the surrounding pool I felt I had arrived in a hot spring, crossing felt like a well deserved pat on the back - one element was conquered that day.

After enjoying a peaceful lunch at the waters edge we packed our things and began to turn our backs on the magnificent, Salto Arrechea. A backward glance, intended for future nostalgia, gifted us with one of the more bizarre scenarios we had encountered on our travels. A middle aged woman, of South American descent, had begun to wade into the pool fully clothed. I wondered if she had simply forgotten to remove them in her eagerness to experience the fall but quickly concluded no one would forget such a elementary aspect to bathing. More baffling than the woman was her enamoured husband cheering her on from the side. I stopped Tam so that we could both appreciate this puzzling moment, however we quickly looked away as we witnessed her unsteady footing on the slippery rocks - bloodshed was not on our sightseeing list.

As we meandered back through our (not so) treacherous path we had the intuition to check the time. The clock on my phone screen stood firm, 14:30 - this was bad news. Our 'Gran Aventura' was scheduled to leave the food quarter at 15:30 whilst our ecological river tour was organised for every half hour, lasting approximately 30 minutes. Whilst you may assume that these time schedules seem well calculated, it is difficult to explain the sheer size of Park Iguazu. In order to reach the starting point for the ecological tour we required a 20 minute train journey, a service which also ran every half hour. With hope and determination in our boots we marched to the platform. The scene that greeted us sank our hearts, row upon row of yuppie, yappy tourists snaked around the queue barriers. We knew we wouldn't be able to board the first train, maybe not even the second. With regret and sadness we let go of our ecological dream tour - hasta luego!

With the annoyance of our loss still heavy on our shoulders we dragged ourselves to the starting point of the 'Gran Aventura'. We cursed the stars and boarded our 25 man bus/jeep - this had better be 'Gran'. Our 5km jungle safari drive was somewhat underwhelming as we were shown vines and flowers, nothing I couldn't see in the typical British garden. However, for censorship reasons I cannot say what animal we encountered after we disembarked the jeep, all I can disclose is that it had no legs and plays a pivotal role in the Genesis story (sorry, Mum). Having narrowly escaped a venomous demise (sorry) we made our way to our 'Gran' boat ride. With expectations lowered and a quick stop in a cockroach infested toilet we secured our life jackets that little bit tighter.

We sped along the river as the boat crashed over the swell, a by-product of the gigantic falls. An extremely conversational Argentine didn't seem to mind that we were not replying to her fast paced greetings, she appeared completely undeterred by our inability to acknowledge her ramblings beneath the roar of the engine. Finally we arrived at the falls, each one dwarfing our reasonably sized vessel. I felt akin to a wayward spider that had suddenly fallen into the bath, the taps screaming and hissing. White noise filled our ears as language gave way to experience. Unified by fear and exhilaration, we - the passengers of the boat, whooped and cheered as our captain, Mario drove us head first into the legendary falls. 'UNO MAS, YO QUIERO MAS', the chant echoed from the rocky cliff faces only to be swallowed by the deluge of frothing water - we wanted more and we wanted it now! Mario courteously obliged, repeatedly soaking us beneath the watery onslaught.

We disembarked our sturdy boat with adrenaline coursing through our veins. The time read 17:00 as we rushed back to the centre of the park, one hour until closing time. Our steps were filled with haste as it had occurred to us that we had not witnessed the parks pièce de résistance, 'La Garganta del Diablo' - 'The Throat of the Devil'. Recognising that this was not something we could miss, we began what we had previously been told was a 30 minute walk to the Devil's Throat. Park attendants didn't bat an eyelid as we joined the path that only led to the world renowned fall. The walk proved to be a draining experience with not one person crossing our path, we moved like ghosts through the forest path. Arriving at the Garganta food and train station there was not a soul in sight, the staff and tourists had seemingly evacuated the park leaving an apocalyptical taste in the back of our mouths. Time had miraculously jumped forward as we began sprinting along the river bridge at 17:55, who knew what the consequences were for leaving the park after closing hours - at that point we didn't really care. The 1km metal bridge threatened to launch us into the rapids as each metal plate buckled and reformed under our desperate steps, we had to see it.

Our efforts had not been in vain, upon reaching the viewing platform we were treated to a sight which words will never fully describe. The platform was desolate, unimaginable at such a coveted wonder of the world. Firmly placed on the railings was a plaque in which a poem was inscribed for all to reflect upon. The poem, so exquisitely written, brought shivers to my spine and still forms a tight lump in my throat. My attempt to loosely translate this poem still maintains its raw power and I hope you will better understand what it is we witnessed that day.

The Natural Wonder of the Devil's Throat

Let your soul be sated
With the odd beauty of this landscape
That although scrolling though the world on your travels
You will never find anything like this

Good and bad dynamic changing
Since here you find your name
In your human heart of man
A truthful and consistent message

Meditate and feel the deep emotion
Watching the vibrant paroxysm
That mists eternally circle

And do not try to describe it with your voice
Just lean your forehead against this abyss
Which is the mirror of the word God.