When the Devil Swallows (Or, Journey to his Throat)

On Sunday morning, we headed over to Iguazú Falls. It was spectacular. Here is a link to an album of the photos I took, with appropriate (or sometimes slightly less appropriate, or sometimes nonexistent) descriptions. Elizabeth, Hildur, and I walked around (there were a couple of different paths) for a few hours, initially accompanied by a nice old couple from south of Buenos Aires who'd been there several years back. In an attempt to maintain our Spanish Only mindset, we decided to pretend we were all from Iceland and that we did not speak English. This lasted not very long at all, because I cannot lie. Plus, Hildur was like, um, everyone in Iceland speaks English. I think probably nobody knows that aside from the people who live there, but apparently it would be an affront to the Icelandic people to say otherwise.

After walking around, we took a train to La Garganta del Diablo ("The Devil's Throat"), which is more or less this unfathomably cool convergence of waterfalls into an endless abyss. It was mindblowing. I tried to take a couple of videos, but they hardly do it justice:

Anyway, after that there wasn't much else to be done that could, you know, have any significance whatsoever. We returned, grabbed some food, and got back on the bus for another 18-hour journey. I'm still in awe.