Paraguay, Ciudad del Este
Jason writes:
Happy New Year!
November 17th. Late morning. After the visit to the Tres Fronteras park, Heather and I got on a local bus headed for Ciudad del Este, Paraguay. We’d heard that it was a market for inexpensive electronics, DVDs, clothes, etc. I wasn’t really in the market for anything, but checking out a new city in a different country right next door–why not? Besides, the bus ride was a whopping 3 pesos each, round trip.
If adventure is about unexpected experiences, and I think it is at least in part, the adventures began even before the bus got us into Paraguay. The bus did depart from the station in Puerto Iguazu, and we expected it to go directly to Ciudad del Este across the river, either by bridge or ferry. I mean, what else could they do, teleport?
As it turns out, the bus did none of the above. Now we did cross the Argentine border checkpoint as expected. Off the bus, stand in line, passport gets stamped, then back on the bus. And off we went. But rather than heading west, towards Paraguay, the bus went north, towards Brazil. Puzzling, I thought, but maybe the road would dogleg abruptly or something.
Soon, we were at the bridge crossing the river between Argentina and Brazil. Heather and I exchanged glances. What the hell??? After crossing the river, we approached another checkpoint. I wondered if I was turned around, until I saw all the signs in Portuguese. Sure enough, we were entering Foz de Iguaçu, Brazil.
The Brazilian guards at the checkpoint just waved the bus through. Wow. Not even a cursory check! Normally, an American must get a visa to enter Brazil, and tourist visas cost $150 each. We had entered Brazil accidentally, and, lacking visa documentation or even passport stamps, illegally!
I get the impression that border security isn’t that good out here.
The ride through Brazil was like being in a dream. Was there some mistake? Where would they take us? It was a total question mark. I wondered if we had somehow gotten on the wrong bus, but the sign said “CIUDAD DEL ESTE” and even so, that wouldn’t explain how we slipped through border security. The pure mystery of it was thrilling, and I figured we’d find out what was up soon enough. So it wasn’t frightening. I considered briefly the thought that we were being kidnapped in some bizarre way, but why would they kidnap a bunch of locals too? Also, none of them seemed to excited about this turn of events, so I just kept my eyes open, awaiting answers.
The journey through Brazil proved brief. After about 20 minutes, the bus approached the Brazil/Paraguay border. Moments later, we were in Paraguay. I suspected this would happen, though the Brazil “tour” was opaque, to say the least.
Well anyway, here we were. Ciudad del Este. It’s hard to convey what a riot of noise, people and machines greeted us as we disembarked. I would have taken a picture of it if I felt getting my iPhone out was wise. (I never considered bringing the nice camera.)
It was pure, unlimited, commercial pandemonium, absolutely unrestrained capitalism. Swarms of people! Buses, vans, pedestrians, bicycles, vendors, motorcycles, cars, and dogs move down the muddy, smoky main drag in a slurry. We ran from the median to the sidewalk and got our bearings as best we could. Heather was tense, reasonably so. It’s very dirty, dangerous, and chaotic. Just crossing an intersection successfully is an exercise in alertness, prudence and avoidance of hyperaggressive solicitation.
Along the street were countless open-air markets, stalls made of wooden frames and tarps, loaded to the rafters with goods. Behind them, in the distance, were malls in multistory buildings. In both cases, selling imported goods, tax free. Street vendors hawked, barkers barked. Everyone wanted our attention. I’d never heard so much Spanish yelling and thundering unmuffled engines.
Of course, a lot of merchandise was grey market, counterfeit, and things that fell off the back of the truck. This isn’t Mayberry. As I mentioned in an earlier post, the place has flourishing organized crime. Law enforcement is, at best, lax. But the danger here is really more about getting ripped off or run over than anything like being attacked or kidnapped. This town accounts for nearly half of Paraguay’s GDP. Everyone wants the market to function smoothly, and violence scares off the tourists.
I bought a few things. To replace what was stolen, I got new shades and messenger bag. I also found a very nice camera lens for a good price. Haggling in Spanish was fun. Also, just for the hell of it, I bought a pirate copy of WALL-E. Cost about 5000 guaranís, or $1.20. (This turned out to be an unlabeled DVD-R made from a film print of the movie, complete with cigarette burns. End credits were cut off and the DVD menu was predictably primitive.)
We strolled around a bit, just looking at the goods and taking in the insanity. In the afternoon we decided to go back to Puerto Iguazu. Lunch there was a lot more appealing. I hadn’t been told how the return trip would work. I knew we’d ride a bus back, but there wasn’t any bus stop and no specific time it was supposed to be there. But I had a a pretty good idea of how it had to work, just from the way things are in a place like this. So we walked back to the stretch of the street where the bus dropped us off, and I just watched the buses roll by, keeping an eye for a sign saying “PUERTO IGUAZU.” Heather noticed one, so I just ran out in the middle of the street, dodging the traffic, until I was right in front of the bus. I started waving both arms, and I saw that the driver noticed me. He stopped and Heather and I hopped on board. And off we went, simple as that. Who needs a schedule, a bus stop, a ticket, or anything?
On the return, we were waved through Argentine border security. Not even a bag check. They ushered us through an inert metal detector. Damn, smuggling has to be so damn easy here.
And now, back in Puerto Iguazu. The sleepy calmness of this little town was a relief. We had a late lunch at a parilla in Puerto Iguazú and returned to the hotel. We packed, checked out and waited for the shuttle taking us back to the airport.
The evening flight back to Buenos Aires was uneventful except for the very rough landing. Mimi, the tour guide, took us back to the apartment via remise. That’s the last we see of her. And then, exhausted, we slept like the dead.
I’m making this the last entry of the Argentina travel journal. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it as much as we have writing it! But–this is not the end. The blog will continue on, it just won’t be strictly about my travels anymore. Details on the transition TBD, once I know them myself.
