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El bazar de los abrazos

just felt right to greet a milonga in Buenos Aires, promising to one aspect of the city which I have only touched upon in order to keep everything as to discover these places the next time I host.
I felt something more than just a coincidence that my last night began the metropolitan championship of tango, a month of events in the best milongas of the city before the semi-finals and grand final in July. It 's something different from the great tango festival held in August, this is a smaller event, aimed mostly at porteno, which turns the traditional milongas smaller and more stylish that the major premises. The milonga
today, then I read that was one of the most authentic and one of the few open in the afternoons (the tango is a bargain night and indeed in many other milongas of the championship will begin at midnight ...). Of course, this last factor has made El Arranque a milonga popular with older dancers, but this makes it even more attractive and low, it is possible that a milonga is more melancholy than any other.
As I entered, therefore, put on my glasses and anthropologist, after having earned a place in the second row (arriving an hour before ...), look at everything with great hunger to understand the mysteries of these places.
Bazar de los abrazos is, in addition to a beautiful definition of the milonga, the title of a book that had two or three years waiting to read since I read an article in Republic the tango in Buenos Aires. You can find it here (starts on the first page and continues on page 2), I recommend most strongly that, among other things, contains a beautiful passage, this: Now that

are themselves trapped in old notes, young people recall what they were saying in Argentina when the old rock seemed the answer to every question: "The tango is waiting for you, not in a hurry. You can meet him and do not recognize it, sooner or later fall into his arms.

After two months of careful searching of the libraries of middle-Argentina (I have to say that exploring the libraries Argentina is still a great pleasure) in the end I found the book three days ago. It 'written by a psychologist (Just watch me '!?) Then look at the milonga and its inhabitants with a watchful eye and an accomplice. The milonga defines "permanent guard dining Sick para los de tango, de vida, de encuentro, de Suenos .
It 'hard to learn their secrets, read the codes hidden in mysterious gestures and expressions just mentioned, to understand how banal some tens of pairs are close together to dance this dance with my eyes closed and never collide with each other, as if there was a magnetism that warns them of the available space around it, looks like a game to joints where free space is occupied and immediately, and all run in circles, but not if it counterclockwise, as if it went against time, and actually a bit 'so, the time is not only suspended but running back for the duration of the three or four a couple dancing tango together, before dissolving the hug and perhaps never see them again.
" Animal de dos cabezas, a sol cuerpo y cuatro patas. Ser mitad hombre y mitad mujer mythological. Monstruo de piel morena clara with piel, y vestidas desnudas piernas, brazos brazos fuertes y fragiles .
It 's amazing to see how everything changes once the music starts, after the song of "relief" that there is no dancing, which is not a tango, and serves only to melt pairs, and then reassemble them constantly. Look twice at that until a second before maybe you are exchanging a joke, they're laughing, and then a moment later, a hug slow and intense as if it were the last, and her face becomes that of abandonment, with closed eyes, while he, staring at land, a little 'slanted, or eyes closed too, it makes you what I can only describe as the "wrinkle in the tango," scowls and his expression becomes serious and sad, melancholy and a little' desperate. As if something clicked, an internal mechanism, mysterious, which allows you to dance only if you walk into that state of mind, which is after all the texts of the tangos.
have to be careful with the tango, take it slow because it is a very strong drug, if you take does not leave you more, you are lost forever. Hey, take it in small doses and to be aware when you start dancing and you will not be able to control it, regardless of their strength.
For the record, my favorite couple (which, admittedly, was preferred because she was extraordinarily beautiful - but then who knows, maybe it was just the dress, or the elegance and sensuality of his movements), not has passed, or by vote of the jury nor the voting public.
They were a little 'disappointed, but they are young and they dance very well, will have time to rebuild ...

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the footsteps of the Tren a las Nubes

Then, a nice flashback of three weeks back and here we are back to Salta. Get there on a Saturday afternoon and the streets of the center is the delusion, are full of people going to shop around ...
find an agency open for booking a tour the next day, which is Sunday and I would find myself walking.
Wonder if there's a place to buy a pair of shoes and the type of the agency amused smiles and gives me three or four addresses. I understand why the barely restrained laughter soon: there are two or three streets that are literally one shoe shop, dozens unodietrolaltro without interruption. A nightmare for me that I get bored after 5 minutes when I have to buy some clothes, and then all that offer stun you.
I did not want to buy another pair of hiking shoes, and since I do not have shoes I try to find an honorable compromise. Indeed I take this opportunity to thank the two Swiss friends who had advised me at the time the brand right: it has been a board rather than guessed, I was fine even though they were new and not run-in and despite all my difficulties with the shoes .. .
short, I was ready for exciting new adventures.
The wait for Skip was very high, was the only destination in addition to the capital did not want to miss. Much of the charm, as well as photographs that showed me Roberto L., was due to the desire to climb on the legendary "tren a las Nubes."
It 's a train that runs nearly 220 km rising from 1200 meters to 4200 (making it the third highest train in the world), but without being a cog railway, with strange zigzag, crossing 29 bridges, 21 tunnels and 13 viaducts. The landscape is incredible Quebrada del Toro, and climb and climb up to enter full Puna.
The attraction to this trip was very strong, a bit 'you can understand looking at the pictures of site. Even two or three years because the train is not running, and before leaving it seemed that Italy would again be inaugurated in April ... Fortunate coincidence, I thought.
But no, because the work to restore the path I'm late and it seems that will not reopen before the summer (ours).
So, to console the disappointment, I took a two-day hike, some of which retraces the route of the famous train.
We start at dawn from Salta and slowly begins to rise. Soon we enter the Quebrada del Toro, who is initially characterized by a rich vegetation, the Indians lost homes, which terrace the ground where it is not even thinkable, and the train tracks that normally follow the other side of the mountain . A couple of times we do get to cross the bridges of iron on the Quebrada, saying, jokingly, that the van is not there does with all the above ... In fact, the initial stops are mostly for the lungs to get used to the climb. We also stopped near a train bridge in Las Nubes, let us go, if you will, walk away. He quite impressed because it has no side protection, and under the sleepers see a big jump in the Quebrada ...
In reality it is still early, the sun has not yet entered in the Quebrada and we are still sleepy. We offer coffee and alfahores and allocated. The guide is
Martin, the best I've found saltegne weeks, and in the group being organized now creates a subset of "jovines" of four people, me, the Dutch couple with whom I continued to rent a car and a girl from Buenos Aires, Ana Maria. Ana Maria and Arien Both of working at the airport (of course, Ana Maria in Buenos Aires and to Arien Amesterdam) but Arien is also a photographer (a woman's car with three obiettivoni), and works for magazines photographing skateboarding skaters.
Manon instead does a wonderful job: working for a Dutch governmental organization, raising funds from the lottery and private deals to help projects (particularly micro-credit type but not only) in developing countries. Very often, say 3-4 times per year, mostly sent on a mission to establish personal contacts with the community local, and so she travels the world almost always in incredible places, and moreover he does so for a noble cause (I explained in detail some of the projects funded and it really seems to work).
However, we go up and the vegetation begins to become thinner, they begin to appear Cardones, also thin out the tiny settlements of the Indians (except schools always spit out in the most absurd), the mountains, private green plants, they discover their multicolored coat. We climb and climb, from time to time admiring the acrobatics of the train tracks (do not use the lift forces him to significant changes to overcome the most difficult slopes).
Martin advises us to fund our stock of coca leaves, and explains all their virtues. We arrive in Santa Rosa de Tastil, the "country" the greatest first pitch. We stopped to stretch our legs, there is little more than a church, a school, a few tourist shops and very few houses. There is also a tiny museum that tells the customs of the Indians who first inhabited the settlement number. A little higher up a detour on a road incredibly dangerous Tastil brings us to the ruins of one of the most important settlements of the pre-Inca. The ruins are very great, although tiring because all clinging to explore, and at this altitude (We're almost to 4000 feet) climb is tiring. It seems that there were about 3000 people who lived in this because that was an important strategic location for the crossing of the Andes.
Back on our way and continue to climb, to reach our coveted step, where the quebrada increasingly tightens around us. On the other hand, here she is, Pune. The time to get a bit ', after the pass, and we find ourselves in this incredible plateau.
We stopped immediately, however, in the village of San Antonio los Cobres, which is near the point of arrival of the train a las Nubes (actually a little further on is the viaduct Polverilla, the most spectacular, at 4200 meters).
San Antonio is there, dusty and in the middle of the sea of \u200b\u200bPuna.
There are even public housing tidy and brand new. Housing in height. We're going to eat and even try to drink the tea made from coca leaves, which actually looks like a tea ...

There is plenty to see, San Antonio is more of a good base to explore the Puna or the Andes. But they just go up two children out of school that tells us a bit 'over the country and then we recite poems, delicious.
off again and we head into the Puna on a road of red earth, there are no indications and would be easy to get lost, to go there alone ...
There are vicunas we cross the street, farmers and shepherds who suddenly emerge, in the middle of nowhere, next to nothing, that you wonder what they are doing, there ... The few isolated houses are almost camouflaged, like being in a desert (and in fact, the Puna is) but populated with plants, animals and some men, from time to time.
Then, from afar, a spot of white light, like a reflection but an increasingly large and dazzling: the Salinas Grandes. At the heart of the Puna, at the junction of two legendary roads, Route 40 and the so-called "corridor bioceanico, a road linking the two oceans through the Andes in one of the few places (the other is to believe Mendoza) where you can do it all year round, even in winter. They all told me that among other things, the road to Chile from here is beautiful, after the Paso de Jama we still want to almost 300 km to meet the first country in Chile ...
With the van we go in the salt and stopped right in the middle. The dazzling white, the sun is very strong and doubles its intensity on salt.
The locals, including some artisans selling items to tourists, are completely covered, including a kind of balaclava and sunglasses, they make a lot terrorists rather than traders. This is because the conditions of work (or life) on the salt are incredibly hard in a few years, the wind that brings the salt causes skin cancer, and it takes even less to go blind, just a few months.
Absurd as such a beautiful thing, a desert of salt, can be so cruel. It is hard to keep my eyes open, it is difficult to take pictures with the sun that makes you not see anything of what you are framing ...
Salt and ground form of geometric designs, and feeling very strong, between the Andes in the background, the Puna and all that white round the eye, is to stay within a landscape not terrestrial, but some other planet.

There is also a bench there in the middle of the salt. Surreal.
Come back, unfortunately I missed the whole landscape of the pass, except for a couple of stops, because the salt we have uploaded 4 persons in another van that was broken, and of course to sell the seats and it was my turn Arian ...
pity because the scenery looks amazing with this road that rolled downhill, after the pass ...
Purmamarca arrive in the country, where we stop us kids to sleep while the others continue and return to Salta.
Purmamarca But I will speak again.

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Food for all tastes

Then, in order to find a little 'time to tell you of the Noroeste (they are blatantly out), I update you on local foods, which is always an easy topic easy.
One of the things that struck me most while I was in the Northwest was the locro , a kind of high-protein stew that is no coincidence that we eat in this mountainous region. It 's a dish with clear rural origins, because they use a little' every scrap of meat there are different types in, cooked in a very slow (two hours) along with the crushed corn and other vegetables . Finally, it adds a fried made with the fat of meat, a thing that looks very similar to "turf" ... Very good, especially the first one I ate, I have served in a sort of pumpkin bread made with the soft interior wall which gradually permeated the tasty sauce, and then, once finished locro, the game was not finished as they began to decompose the pumpkin bread in the meantime it was seasoned ...
Other specialties of the Andes, the humita , an ear of corn (which obviously you do not eat, but no one has bothered to tell me the first time ...) that wraps a mo 'package (also has a string close to) a pap corn and other unidentifiable ingredients. Fun and tasty but not very solid ...
Then there are the tamales , a variant of humita but where the corn is used to form a kind of batter (more then wrapped and cooked in the leaf of the plant) containing a filling of meat (of course) egg and other gadgets. In
Calchaquies Valley's specialty is instead the Cabrito al horno, and the poor kid, who is here for once the place of abuse cow, it really is very tender and very tasty.
Then, it pains me to admit it, the rain of flesh in these two months, I've tasted (with some resistance at first, then I tried from my table-mates and the next time I transferred too) also the meat of the blade, which is quite common in the Northwest (the blade, unlike the beautiful vicuna or guanacos, is not endangered). I must admit that is very good, but not too different from the beef more tender.
Perhaps I have already mentioned the Andean picada, a plate of antipasto, which includes a disproportionate number of different types of potatoes, served with the skins and everything is really good.
Finally (I hope) the tour of the meat (I'm not there to tell the different cuts of beef that I tried because they are too many and then I still have not understood the difference ...), there are still three things. The Milanesa is, surprisingly, a ... chop. On her own. But surprisingly the Neapolitan Milanesa is instead wrapped in a fried egg and ham. I do not know that in Naples do anything like that (maybe Francesca help us know), but here I understand that whenever something has this kind of accompaniment (fried egg round and half ham) call Napolitana. Finally, the Lomito , which is a classic Panozzo with the meat, which of course only the meat and there is a lot of everything inside, including the usual fried egg, french fries, and lots of other stuff (actually, you can choose what to put).
The cheese must unfortunately say that the Argentines just do not know, despite the high quality of milk (Certainly better than ours) who find themselves: they are always the same two or three types of cheese squalid. I was struck by the words anywhere in the Noroeste y queso quesillo , then I discovered that the quesillo is actually a cake, made, needless to say, with a very low form small cheese that is seasoned with various jams. Good for fans of the genre.
Unfortunately I can not give you many interesting information on the sweets, which is generally outside of Italy can not eat because they are too sweet. But I found out that Buenos Aires is the second city in the world (after London) for per capita supply of sweets. And tonight I have to try a potato tart (!) That it was not bad.
I tried but excellent wines including Torrontés , a white man who only in the Quebrada de las Conchas (I'll get to), too bad here as they have strange habits to drink soda all over the world not only use ( how to destroy any drink, especially wine), not only are a disproportionate use of sprites and gas in general, but the national fashion is Fernet Branca, and so far nothing too strange, mixed with Coca Cola. Mah!
Finally, on the street, every corner there are vendors of popcorn (for more sweets) and pochoclo a stuff completely caramelized sweet smell which often invades the streets of our cities Argentina.

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I'm really happy with the victory of Garrone & Sorrentino, joined by the wonderful Toni Servillo and the courage to tell the Italy of today, we who are so good at looking back.
I am also very pleased to have appointed their own two, when the BAFICI I have repeatedly called for the health of Italian cinema, which all took for buried, dead or dying.
I tried to say that very recently there has been awakened from a long sleep, despite a thousand difficulties. But the authors and ideas are there, and victory in Cannes is a great international recognition that can only do good, to our cinema (unless you fill her mouth with big words out of place ...)
And anyway, will chance that our cinema always tries to resurrect the darkest moments of our blessed country?

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Mate, drink and mania

So here it is mate.
Contrary to weigh some, no question of the Argentine version of the typical exclamation Bari ( "matheux !!!"), but one of the pillars of Argentine identity.
In fact it is the thing that stands out more, including in Argentina, although more of the ubiquitous asados \u200b\u200b and parrilladas . It will be that one can not always be with a steak before, but instead may well spend the day drinking mate.
But first things first. The mate more than a beverage, is a rite and a social activity. It 'difficult for you to drink alone, in fact. And is widespread at all levels of society, all social classes.
works like this: Everything starts with the yerba mate, a plant-runner dell'Agrifoglio which is produced mainly in the province of Misiones, and it is there, in the Jesuit missions, which the Europeans have discovered this native custom. The leaf is dried and shredded a bit 'as you do with tea. Then there's the whole ritual of preparation. In the past, wealthy families seem to have a slave devoted exclusively to the preparation of the drink ...
So there is a person, the cebador , which is in charge of conducting the game. Fill the cup (the mate, in fact, that may be pumpkin, wood, metal, silver, anyway ...) almost to the brim with grass, then we pour over the hot water (but that should not have boiled!), and a bombilla (a bar with a small filter on the bottom) is sucked up the water quickly and flavored. Everyone ends up all the water in the material, then the cebador fills again and passes it to the next person, and so on ...
sounds easy, but it is not. First of all, because to be hot at the right You need a thermos with you, which is rather cumbersome because it must also contain water for all ... And especially since the cebador must have the ability to wet only part of leaves at a time, which is not really easy to fill in a container of warm water ... This is because as the mate leaves last longer.
The important thing is that the mate is drunk in the company, a type of beaker valdostana without alcohol. Everyone, really everyone is drunk all the time. In fact, the Argentines consume 5 pounds a year per person (only in Uruguay consume more), four times the consumption of coffee. They tell me that even in very serious and elegant offices, a mate in front of computer monitor never fails. In all social occasions, especially outdoors, there's always someone who carries all the paraphernalia. But at some point the hot water ends ... Do not worry, you can go almost anywhere to have it heated. Indeed, in many public places or in the terminal, there are special machines that distribute hot water (sometimes free, sometimes paying a weight).
short, never risk running out of material. If we sell a
Argentine mate, is a welcome sign that it is almost impossible to refuse. I've never done and I must say that I've always liked, sometimes it's a bit 'sour (sugar and bring some others do not and there are varieties of stronger mate) but has a good flavor. The shelves of supermarkets that sell mate are incredible, they have dozens of different brands and quality ...
Among other things, it seems that lately have found that yerba mate contains almost all vitamins necessary to humans, even in terms of quantity.
How to tell a mate a day keeps the doctor away ...

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national newspaper strike and difunto Correa

As I said, take to the streets in Argentina is almost a social obligation. cacerolazos piqueteros and are always on the agenda. Perhaps it is because democracy is at the bottom so young, maybe it's just a way of making noise, sometimes it's even a vehicle control social (as I have said, there are only demonstrations against but in favor or in favor of the government, a pity that in the latter case they are often organized and paid by the government itself, that leverages the hunger of descamisados \u200b\u200b to be sent to the streets in exchange for payment in kind, often with food).
impossible not to bump into a few block traffic or noisy protest, and in fact became clear to me several times. In
trip from Puerto Iguazu to Buenos Aires, which was to include a stop in Rosario, I ended up right in the eye of the storm. The struggle between the "field ", peasants, and the government seems to have no end and the streets are again blocked by farmers. I had to cross the Rio Parana, which is not just a river but like a sea (in the north is simply very broad, so that's hard to see the other shore of the delta, in Buenos Aires, the mouth is more than two hundred kilometers wide, how to tell from Rome to Naples ...), and so there are very few bridges that challenge. And no target is better than a bridge, if you want to create discomfort. Fortunately in our case it was just to wait just over an hour, then we have passed.
course was easy and comfortable, better wait for the bus that happened so far, served and revered, even with a good hot dinner (with the ubiquitous meat and even a mini portions grated Parmesan cheese to put on the rice that accompanied ...).
I open a parenthesis on the bus. They all movies all the time, to go faster than the long hours of travel. What is extraordinary is the selection of films that is made: if most American movies are recent or very recent (sometimes still in the room!), Often they are art films or other non-commercial, and it happened to me a trip in which they are strung together referred to as "Annie Hall," "Juno," "I'm not here" and "Y Tu Mama Tambien." As if to say, programming that not even dare to our art-house cinemas. In fact they told me that in Argentina auteur cinema is very strong, that Woody Allen and the Coen brothers are among America's most popular (at least in Buenos Aires and in big cities), but I did not think that even in coach, where people of all types, certainly not just movie fans, put this type of movie.
short fly to Rosario, where I had a lot of places recommended because two people I know are here, and instead the city is completely blocked. I say all the dreaded phrase " hay paro" which at first appears to strike only a carpet-taxi (which does not work as well as blocking all access to the center, caused many logistical problems), but then I realize account that all the city is still, as in mourning, there are people but everything is closed, shops and restaurants to museums, even the cinema (that never close!).
the end I explain that there was a bad night in the episode that saw the death of a taxi driver (it seems that the guy who killed him has indicated that he did it because he did not pay 6 pesos for the ride , even if his intention was not to kill), and that the protest-mourning was extended by taxi drivers throughout the city. Having established that it would go ahead a couple of days, and especially that two days later there would be a huge national demonstration of peasants, I thought to escape and return to (My) Buenos Aires. Too bad because it looked interesting
Rosario, very elegant, very European, very much alive (despite a day of mourning!), With a beautiful riverside of 15 km, islands in the river and beaches (beaches?! To swim in that river? mah ...), a relaxed and festive.
But it will be for another time.
Ah, I forgot! The same day there were two other events in Rosario, a student night in front of the rectory, and another that lasted all day the Indians (pueblos en lucha originarios, "said a sign) with the whole family and especially Hundreds of jubilant children in tow, in front of the town. But in the placid Cordoba a demonstration called against rising prices of bus tickets has resulted in urban warfare ...
Anyway, I promised you the story of a competitor of Gaucho Gil. the difunto Correa. His shrines are equal to those of the gaucho, if less flashy because there are no red flags waving. In some cases, even side by side, so you can stop to pay tribute to them both at once.
But what is its history? Deolinda Correa, during the civil war in mid-800, followed on foot the battalion of her sick husband, taking his young son in her arms. The woman died of starvation, but when some pastors they found it, saw that the baby was still alive and that he was sucking milk from the breast. The survival of the child is just the first of many miracles that have been allocated, and the place of his death has quickly become a crowded sanctuary, with an entire country that is built around and 200,000 faithful who arrive here on May 1 and above Christmas.
Truck drivers are clearly among the most faithful of the chapels difunto are recognized by the presence of several bottles of water, put there to "quench" the saint who died of thirst.
Everything would be almost "normal" for us accustomed to the excesses of this kind with different types of saints, if not difunto that Correa is not recognized by the Holy Church, and then again this is a very strong tradition, but all popular, as it came "from below". There is a
site of the shrine (which contains a more detailed history, if you're interested) and also one of a band of Chile (devotion has spread there and in Uruguay) named Difuntos Correa, who wants to spread the legend is not even that bad and, unbelievable, this summer is on tour in Europe.
Not to be missed!

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At the request of the kind audience .. . Volver

Yes, it's time that many (most, it should be '... all? No, not all, come on ...) you expected.
Back in Buenos Aires, among the thousands of things to do this week incastrerò a little 'time to ... gifts.
And so I'm officially open the requests.
Sbizzarritevi as well, but public requests will be met only through the blog. Courage!

ps: no, coca leaves do not you bring her, I said it was legalized only in the Andean Northwest, not in Buenos Aires, let alone at the airport ...
pps in the photo, the yerba mate, though I still have not told you ...

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While the start is a bit 'die, then return to be a bit' like being reborn. Or maybe become as little children. And a
bit 'so, returning to a city that is not only curiosity and imagination, but it is actually known roads, places to go, people to greet, events, stories and faces, as well as imaginary.
The long period out of Buenos Aires at the end has been completed, and returned to the starting point. On the other hand, the best trips are always circular. The important thing is changed back, no?
This time I decided to rent an apartment. Now that I think of my personal map of the city, I chose the green district and (hopefully) less pollution, although a bit 'away from areas where you exit the evening.
will be strange, having a house in Buenos Aires.
And a little 'as if this bracket is more than a month away from the capital was not a holiday, but now, of course, you return home.
Perhaps I should review my personal concept of home. And 'where you keep all your stuff? But those are just objects. And then, once you have an iPod with all your music in it, is already a lot to carry around in your house. And 'where all your friends live? Of course, two problems though: most of my friends do not live in my city, and that friends are trees (except one! Know an Ent, but maybe it's a sorry Ent ...), and moving and may go away as well come and see you ... Home is where you grew up? Not in my case. Maybe then home is where you feel at home. It 'a very relative concept, and mobile, as well as furniture have become our identity, what defines us. We are no longer a job, a religion, a party, a country, then perhaps we are not even more a place and a home.
This is not to say that I feel like home in Buenos Aires. Not yet, anyway. But certainly there is something, perhaps a feeling of being at ease, which is significant (only Berlin has had a similar effect, even more amplified on me: it will be a case that they are twins?). The two weeks I spent here I had a very strong resistance to "visit" the places, to take the lead and decide "today I see this and that." I'm pleased, and already had a lot of walking, walking the city, to know it through its streets, its cafes, its parks, its inhabitants. I did not want to "see" things a bit 'because I always have this resistance when a place I like, I always leave something unseen, to have an excuse to come back. But a little 'because I can not explain, it's like when you're in your town, do not pass the week to plan what to see. The live and that's it.
will be true this past week, I already know. Apart from a couple of museums that I want to see, one for work (the Immigration). The difference is that I will have my little corner of the home to go back in the evening.
And above all, and that changes many things, one thing is to arrive in a city you do not know, another get to a place they already know the profiles, where you know the East, where people already know where you have events where you things to do like a week anywhere in your city, in fact.
As if it were your life normally.

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So, the Garganta. I would be hours before there, enchanted, chained, perhaps charmed. But after an hour we were all kicked out, the park closed. And not just because the visitors had to leave. The forest, the jungle, with dark, close as you around. It 's still time for sunset, a very red sunset, will be the tropics, I do not know. The animals are being felt more and more, symphony of crickets, toads, frogs, birds of various kinds, squirrels coming out into the open even in the visitor center in search of food. No Jaguars, unfortunately or fortunately.
I have to wait two hours, I took the first round of visits at night, they told me it is the best because the moon is lower. I do not want to go back to Puerto Iguazu, although I would in time and maybe I'd better get something heavier than my blouse to put on him, because the evening the temperature drops and the humidity increases. But I want to enjoy the park, which finally becomes silent, there are only a few people waiting, like me. A guy offers me a beer. Arriva also a family of Italian, but I'm away. In the end, when he became completely dark except for moonlight, there's everybody else and we head towards the train. A guard explains what will happen, be careful when we walk on the runway because it can be wet (and you do the higher the handrail, I would say, so there is no risk that people fall ...). It tells us that if we are lucky, in some We can see the rainbow with the moonlight.
We go all the train, we are almost a hundred people. The journey of twenty minutes, the train off the lights and leaves us in the dark, and it is quite different from that round. Nature takes over, the moonlight casts just a little 'light in a dark world but alive, that roar as we passed. The people, all of us, stain silence, kidnapped, maybe even a little 'afraid.
arrive, and begin the journey on the catwalk. The river looks more menacing, now, each black spot is suspicious of any movement in the dark is full of sinister threats. That will climb a bit 'positions as possible to stay in front, but it seems to me that we are all so in awe at the power of nature so much bigger than us, and so mysterious, dark, almost no one speaks, and those who do do it in whispers. It is not easy to keep quiet about a hundred tourists. Perhaps it is the power of the dark. A true dark times, when passing under trees that kept away even the moonbeams. But I think that little (little?) Fear that everyone has is due to two distinct types of sounds.
The noise of the waterfall at night much stronger, and this time almost start to believe that what we're really seeing is the Garganta del Diablo. I mean, the noise is what he would do him the Devil.
And then, noise, noise, all that is around us but we can not see. Even the iron footbridge is strange sighs, to step on your foot, almost wailing, as cries for help. Not a squeak, which I understand, but just a kind of sigh, as if there were air, I know a bearing, but something is not there.
around there is a huge and terrible nature, dark and potentially bad. The two miles of walkway are the closest thing to a walk in a Lovecraft story I have ever live. There was something out there, one step away from the iron footbridge. There are creatures, hidden under the water. There are stagnant pools where unclean beings just waiting for someone to fall into a foul.
Probably this is all walking in the middle of the walkway, keeping well away from those edges, for some reason, seem to keep away the evil that lies all around, under, water, and the trees?
do not know.
course then when you start to see the Garganta illuminated by the moon, when the noise increases to become almost unbearable, when you get to the end and everything is water and wind and dizzying vortices and splashing and reflexes, you can not help thinking that Beauty and terror are touching here, maybe you love, everything is so beautiful that is scary, is the fear of a stepmother Nature, infinitely beautiful and infinitely bad, is afraid to look at what you can not see, You can not see your god in my eyes because it blinds you, you turned to stone, you destroy.
Then, as people foolishly try to take pictures, flash and small are like pinpricks that so many Lilliputians trying to capture the Giant, and there you are dazed, terrified even, try to keep a close eye splash that fall, and they seem to go much slower, as if everything was in slow motion, as if, not blinded and deafened all, the waterfall was working through service, step by step, little poor stupid humans.
Fixed water that is white, lit by the moon. Do not even look like water. It seems foam, some manna from heaven, maybe milk just come out from the breasts of the Earth (sorry, the Pachamama), yes, it looks like milk ...
Then I look down, where you can not see, because clouds of steam come out, get up, you are meeting, and not even look like steam, it seems ...
So is it a moment, and I understand everything that is below me The World's Largest Mixer! But yes, milk, and a moment later, voila: whipped cream ...
Everything is clear now, and the Garganta not afraid anymore, maybe it's just the brand name ... And I almost regret that there is more wind to carry me up the cream, I'd just open his mouth to taste it on the fly ...

ps the photo is not my night but a little (just a little) makes the idea ...
pps sorry for you, but you still have another post on the waterfall ...

Thank You Wording For Condolence

Where the world ends

You know, the ancients were right. We are there to playing around with the crazy idea of \u200b\u200bround-earth: but when did the earth is flat, of course, a little 'beyond the Pillars of Hercules ends here in Iguazu.
To reach the falls take a colectivo from Puerto Iguazu, those who climb all have a uniform, apparently working at the park ... We arrive at the bus stops and enters a guy who says to all those who have to get off the ticket, the ticket office inside is already closed. I look around e. .. I go down. Only me. The bus is waiting. I I feel like in that old movie Nuti, when he climbed on a bus that you must climb up a steep road, and the driver keeps saying "do not do it to him, do not do it to him ..." until the ' bus does not actually take it anymore and the driver says "fall all except old men, women and children." Then again bold and earth, to have it on foot with luggage, leaving only the poor Francesco Nuti ...
Arrival in fact the only park in the late afternoon, just long enough for a first reconnaissance fast, but the initial impression is excellent, between the structures of the visitor center, the Indians selling junk on the ground, and the train to move that Disneyland does so much. Wonder what I can see two hours before the closing, and I say the best shot now, go to the Garganta del Diablo. You will see it again tonight for the Paseo Luna Llena, but the day is another thing ...
Vado, is the last stop of the train, which in effect after a while 'you forward a bit' more in the immense park. I expect to see cougars, jaguars, toucans and Macuco (yes, toucans, this time for real), but of course it is neither the time nor the place.
The Lonely Planet is once again a bit 'of terrorism, explains what to do if you confront dangerous felines, says that some tourists have drowned and the son of a ranger was attacked and killed by a jaguar.
In fact, the last train for Garganta, with fifty tourists revelers, it is so afraid of any animal that everyone thinks they wisely stay away. At the end of the train begins a path around the bridges crossing the river to reach the waterfall, at its most spectacular. Yes, because you can not talk to Iguazu to "cascade", the falls are an infinite, they are more than two kilometers from the front, an unimaginable amount of water ...
Who knows what he must have thought when Alvar Nunez, spintosi in the dense jungle, has come to discover, in 1541, the waterfalls. Have thought at the end of the world, for sure.
Hear from afar, the Garganta. Feel the noise that is getting stronger But of course, is the Devil who makes the gargle, which clears his throat. Approaching
at sunset, when animals are awake, it's a bit 'impression. Especially to pass on these footbridges very improvised, low less than a meter, which is sufficient to slip and then a second fall in the river, being pulled by the current, and are only a few dozen meters from the jump.
The noise is getting louder, the Garganta attracts you, you'll recall, is a noise hypnotic charmer. Hasten the steps as the safety of very low bridge allows it, and you begin to see puffs of steam, far away, and, the closer you get, the more you realize that is the point where the land ends. So, suddenly, as it should be, at the point where the world ends, and starts the vacuum. The water does not know approaches unconscious, almost placid in her unconscious, then he understands everything in a moment, try to slow its course, to stop, but it is too late and falls down, faster, more fast breaks on basaltic rocks and then you lose in a vacuum. Not without raising his cry of sorrow and tears, in the form of water spray that the wind up back then, like so many little souls of h2o traveling upward toward the sky, and invest the tourist, unaware of the tragedy unfolding before his eyes.
Whirlwinds of water carried by the wind which you invest, you push, whip your face and you enter the mouth open for the occasion in an expression of wonder and terror.
Yes, we can not feel terror for this show, that water comes from three different fronts to commit suicide, crying, screaming in pain. It 'an almost magical, that of the Garganta, that pushes you to come ever closer, regardless of the water that comes along, toward the edge of the catwalk (the one always there, low ...), to look down there where the water has to surrender to gravity, look down and stunned by the height, noise, the immense beauty and terrifying.
A joke, of course. A prankster god that at some point we started doing this work of art in the middle of a jungle, where nobody has ever seen. Instead, no, they discovered, desired and violated. We have built hotels and walkways. We went below and above the boats. But the water has taken its revenge. It destroyed the old bridge to the Garganta, during a flood. It is still there, as a warning of what water can do when he wants and gets angry. And then, when adventurous tourists approached the edge of the waterfall with the paddle boats, a department of the local people, with the owner who rowed with all his might to stay near the boat stops at the edge, tired of this game that may have wished to diminish his power if he is taken once a boat with seven German tourists and the owner. If they're caught and swallowed them. Beware you who challenged me, not knowing what I know and do, if only I feel like it.
Watch all of this, think about how much energy, all energy in the world is contained here, think about how strong the water, which is always his own way, whatever the obstacles ahead, look the disproportionate amount of gallons of water per second to pass before you, and find out for yourself, no one you had said before, what is the height of contemplative Iguazu Falls: being there, literally surrounded on all sides by water, and at the same time cause you thirsty, and have already finished your miserable half-liter bottle (pint ! boo!).