Give way to snakes

Iguazu Falls

After a 23 hour bus journey across the breadth of Argentina (not as hard as you'd think: luxurious wide leather seats, movies, free wine and food) Iguazu had been built up to be a highlight of our last few days away: 270 huge waterfalls cascading across the border between Argentina and Brazil. Wider than Niagra and more spectacular than Victoria, these falls had been billed as a 'must see'.  
Unfortunately the weather had other ideas. Who knew we'd have sub-tropical thunderstorms in sub-tropical rain-forest? I guess the clue's in the title. 
Being stoic Brits, and with the forecast for storms all week, we decided that we'd go to the falls anyway and hope that the rain stopped by the afternoon as it had the day before. 
It didn't.
Despite the drama and power of the falls, and a thrillingly wet speedboat ride underneath them, it was my lowpoint of the trip - just from disappointment at schlepping about in a continuous grey downpour and not being able to appreciate the day properly.

But, luckily for us, the weather made an unexpected change the following day - so we went back and did it all again, this time complete with sunshine, wildlife - and happy, contented smiles.

Latest questions:

Why is England called England?
Why do they make cars with engines that can go faster than the speed limit?
Why does blood pump around the body?
Why do ladies wear hats in church, but men have to take them off.
Why do mice like cheese so much?
Do flies have hearing? 

Turn over your papers.... now.

Feeding the llama's

"I'm chillin' in Chile...

...big up for me family" - or so the song goes.

After crossing the border and a day or two by the beach in northern Chile, we hightailed it inland to San Pedro de Atacama, a tiny oasis town in the middle of the world's driest desert. We planned to stay here a day or two, only to find that the next bus out wasn't for four days - but we've got a pool and there's great food, so what's the rush? The town is made up of single-story red mud adobe buildings, nestled in a dry, flat valley ringed by Andean volcanoes. You can walk to the desert in 10 mins and being such an arid area it has the most amazingly clear starlit nights.

Against our natural rythms, we got up before dawn today to take a tour out to watch wild flamingoes at sunrise. The picture above doesn't do justice to how close we got to these amazing birds (did you know that the female pelican lays two eggs: one containing the pelican chick and a second 'dummy' egg to feed it with?). Even though he was shivering with cold, Kim pronounced the sight as 'magnificent'.  
Although it's not a cheap place, I can't help feeling that the beauty and tranquility of San Pedro, combined with it's dramatic setting, will make it one of our favourite stops in South America yet.

(Though I seem to be saying that about everywhere lately).

Arequipa

The pretty city of Arequipa, the 2nd largest in Peru, sits in the shadow of still active volcano El Misti and is known as the White City because of all the pale volcanic sillar rock that's used in the beautiful colonial churches, convents and mansions that surround the central plaza. There are supposed to be up to 15 tremors a day, but we've not been aware of feeling any yet. We've not really done much, bar exploring a few of the cultural landmarks - including the massive convent of Santa Catalina, which was a mysterious 500 year old Dominican citadel within the city until it was forced open to the public in the 1970's. The most curious sight there, apart from the maze of streets, stairways, rooms and courtyards themselves, was an exhibit on penance - including barbed-wire underwear. Ouch.

We've done an about-turn now, and are heading south again on the last leg of our trip. The plan is to cross the top of Chile and Argentina, and end up on a beach in Uruguay for a few days R&R before flying back to reality from Buenos Aires. Not that we want to return to reality...

Question of the day...

Why do non-confomists all look the same?