Vern: The Argentinian side of the falls was even better. It was a glorious day to see the 'cataratas' up close and personal and we spent several hours at the park.

The walkway to the Devil's Throat took us right at the point where it bubbles and swirls and then blasts over the crest. The game is to get the ultimate photo with no other tourists in the background (so one day your framed photos can lie to your houseguests and have them think you discovered this water feature) before the wind changes and a wall of spray drenches your camera and day pack.

The bridge network over the Iguazu River is so scenic that in any other nature park it would be a feature, but here no one even takes out their camera. There are two more waterfall walks in the park, the Superior and Inferior trails are equal in their impressiveness despite their names and provide a hundred photo opportunities.

That night we boarded a 20-hour bus to Buenos Aires. It was comfortable enough, but the lady at the counter at the bus station oversold it so we were a bit disappointed. The TVs weren't turned on until the 19th hour and so functioned only as sharp-cornered stalactites to bash our heads against when all the lights were out. Dinner was 5 types of bread roll and two portions of mystery-meat, and breakfast never materialised. In the middle of the night, the aircon was still going at full blast and it was a bit icy. Andrea nicked a blanket from an empty seat in first class, which was lovely and warm and we were able to sleep a bit.

Inconveniently, the bus was still making pick-ups in the early hours of the morning and at some point we think that the final first class patron may have boarded because all the lights were turned on and the staff stalked up and down appearing to be looking for something. We stashed the blanket deep under the seat and pretended to be fast asleep (in beach-wear at 2 degrees Celsius) to avoid suspicion. Forty five minutes later the lights were off again - the conductors investigation had not turned up our loot - and the bus departed. Not sure how they appeased the first class passenger, but perhaps they wrapped him in toilet roll because after then their was none in the loo.

In the morning we stopped again and an armed municipal guard boarded and methodically tapped each of the panels which made up the bus's ceiling. "Jeebiz! It's only a blanket". We buried ourselves in the Lonely Planet, avoided eye contact and once again our transgression went undiscovered.

Finally the bus pulled into its final stop, Retiro. Good afternoon Buenos Aires.