Coming face to face with nature in many ways at Foz do Iguaçu: 13th - 14th April

After coming unstuck one final time at the hands of the Paraguayan bus network and getting stuck on the wrong side of the Brazilian border for a final melancholic night alone in a windowless hotel room, I faced a race against time to fit in both sides of Foz do Iguaçu and the second biggest dam in the world and make it the 16 hours to Sao Paolo in around 48 hours.

It didn't start so well. I was told that I could walk to the border so I decided to go for it, innocently asking locals to help me on my way. After endless walking it seemed the whole city had been engaging in a big game of 'send the gringo the wrong way', and I jumped on a mototaxi, who drove me to the border - the opposite direction to that in which I'd been sent. Once in Brazil things didn't get much better, and after lugging my bags onto the bus to the Iatapu Dam my chances of entering were scuppered by an ATM that ate up my card allowance without giving me any actual cash. I didn't want to visit that environmental tragedy anyway [http://large.stanford.edu/courses/2011/ph240/mina2/]

Summoning my best traveller spirit, as you have to, I ploughed on, took a couple of buses south and finally ended up tired and sweaty at the falls. For the uninitiated, Foz do Iguaçu (or Iguazu Falls if you prefer) is widely regarded as the most awesome waterfall in the world. I could easily reel off a whole load of facts comparing Iguazu and Niagara Falls, but facts are boring, and whilst pictures don't tell the whole story, a little scroll down to my snaps might give you a clue as to what the fuss is about.

It's not just physically that the falls exert some true power. I had arrived tired and a bit miffed about the entrance price and the theme park feel of the whole operation, but once you step out of the bus and head down the trail you can't help but get sucked up in the excitement. Scientists believe that the negative ions sent out by waterfalls naturally improve your mood. If that's the case, Iguazu has to be the strongest antidepressant in the world.

Each corner turned and new viewpoint reached somehow manages to be more impressive than the last, unveiling as they do more and more of the incredible extent of the falls. In reality, it is less a single waterfall than a series of countless two-tiered falls, and the endless water cascades are enough to make your head spin. Birds of prey circle overhead to add to the drama, and 'cute' little coati-mundis do their best to get food from gullible tourists.

The Brazilian side of the falls culminates in a logic-defying section where you're able to head out onto the stretch of water between the two tiers at one of the strongest parts of the falls. You walk out onto the water and are instantly battered with the spray from the first tier - the closest thing i can imagine to walking through a cloud. This path leads you right onto the middle of the water in such a way that you're peering over the perilous drop, wondering what kind of mentalists constructed this structure and how???

The final part of the Brazilian side of the falls was a platform directly next to one of the countless Niagras that make up Iguazu - so close that you could reach out and touch the torrents, and so loud as to make you want to admire the beauty of nature from a bit more of a distance. Just don't go to the nearby café for that respite, as you may have your coffee ruthlessly knocked over and devoured by those coati-mundis. A strange mixed feeling of annoyance but also guilt at how unhealthy coffee is for wild animals.

I stayed in a very cool hostel called Favela Chic in Foz do Iguaçu town, with hammocks and tyre seats outside and a friendly English guy called Nick who sorted out my buses. Most importantly I met a great group (two of which i met with the classic 'would you like new to take a photo of the both of you?' trick) with whom I went out for a one-night wonder. Such experiences are to be savoured in the sometimes lonely business of travelling alone.

In the interest of fairness I visited the Argentinian side of the falls the next day. Of our group were left just me and an English girl, as our Canadian friend fell foul of Latin America's general distaste for North America and the dreaded 'reciprocal visa'. Basically you charge us, we charge you.

The Argentinian side was far cheaper due to the weak peso, was equally infested by those coati-mundis (and some monkeys in fairness), and generally offered more of a theme park vibe, complete with a novelty train between attractions. It is a delightful day out, with tree-lined wooden walkways leading you from stunning view to stunning view, and a boat to an island for in front of, you guessed it, more great views of even more waterfalls.

The highlight is something called the devil's throat, a long walkway all the way along the river to the very top of the most voluminous part, leaving you perched right on the brink of a watery oblivion. Despite how awesome this sounds, the sheer in-your-face thrill of being pelted with spray from one set of falls whilst peering over the precipice of another gives Brazil a narrow victory.

The discussion about which side of the falls is better is endless (and can be very heated in the case of my Argentinian taxi driver to the bus station), but with such a lot of waterfall to see, why limit yourself? Do both, and go back to your favourite on the third day.

Visiting 'nothing' in Paraguay: 9th - 13th April

Poor old Paraguay. Not only has it had one of the most torrid histories of all the countries in Latin America, forever pushed and pulled around by bigger, richer and more popular neighbours to all sides, it seems to have garnered a reputation as the most boring country in South America, with latinos and gringos alike declaring that there's no point in going to Paraguay because there's nothing there. For that reason, being the contrarian that I am, I decided I simply had to check it out.

The decision was partially motivated by the fact that I had heard that there was the practically uninhabitable wasteland called the chaco in the west of the country (97% of the population live in the eastern half of the country) was home to a couple of strange German settlements, like finding a little suburb of Munich in the African savannah. Bring it on, I thought.

With a lack of tourists comes a lack of infrastructure, however. I found myself as one of very few people on a bus from that horrible border town to Concepción, and my plan was to arrive there and then jump on a bus into the badlands of the chaco. A slightly torturous journey later and I arrived in Concepción's bus station, which despite being the third most important city in the country was a small concrete structure with a few parking bays and horses grazing outside. No buses to chaco until the morning, so off into the town I went.

To be quite honest, Concepción isn't much to write home about. Aside from a huge statue of the 'María auxiliadora' of communist proportions on the bypass, your camera won't leave your pocket, and the main attraction is the laid back lifestyle and the very friendly locals, presumably astounded to see a European in their town.

The bus to the chaco was at 7am, so the next morning I stumbled through the same torrential thunderstorm that had been raging since 8pm the previous evening to find myself in a barely-serviceable minibus on my own staring at the horses through that thick film of rainwater on the windows. 40 minutes after scheduled departure and I asked why we weren't moving. 'The driver refuses to leave until the rain stops', was the response. Oh. I felt my sense of adventure slowly drain out of me with that statement. As the rain continued to clatter down, the prospect of that 7 hour journey in the wrong direction (I was actually heading east) lost a lot of its shine, and I bolted out of there and jumped on the first bus to Asunción, the capital.

Upon arriving there I noticed the people's fixation with terere, a herb tea drank cold out of a large container. It's not unusual to see ladies stagger onto the bus with a tiny handbag but this huge barrel of tea throwing them off balance. Our bus driver even seemed to have an assistant solely employed to keep him fuelled up with tea. I later learned that Uruguay and Argentina have a similar obsession with their maté, which is the same thing but drank hot. And I thought us Brits had a habit...

Asunción was overrun by backpackers in comparison to the rest of the country, containing as it did one actual (half full) hostel! On that first evening I took part in a free tango (or 'stylish walking', as the instructors referred to it) class and headed out for some tasty empanadas with some strange Germans before admitting defeat and heading to bed.

The next day I set out with one such German, whose prime objective was to visit the slums that sat at the bottom of the fine old steps from the elevated palaces of the colonial town. In South America you're never far from some sort of poverty, and the tangle of cables, makeshift tarpaulin roofs and dirty streams running through the paths of this slum was a good example. There is a fine line, though, between caring for these people's plight and wanting to know more, and getting too close. A few steps down and we'd already done just that, and were told in no uncertain terms to beat it. Personally, I was relieved.

I enjoyed walking around Asunción and taking in the facing colonial architecture, watching street vendors selling chipa (essentially cheese bread) and trying to piece together its history. Asunción was an important city for the Spanish as they saw it as a strategic city on the way to the city of gold in Peru. However, as I discovered, the chaco is a bit tricky to cross, and upon realising that they abandoned it, hence the feeling of faded glory that hangs heavy in the city air.

Recent history has been even less kind to Paraguay. After being the first south american country to gain independence, they've been through one military dictatorship after the other, fighting unwinnable wars with Brazil and Argentina where half the population were wiped out, and suffered 35 years of oppression under General Stroessner. After the end of this, a house where political opponents were tortured was discovered in central Asunción, now known as the Museo de las Memorias. Well worth a visit.

So maybe people should lay off Paraguay a bit, eh? It's got plenty going for it, such as 300 days of sun a year and the incredible Monte Cristo sandwich I acquired at 1am in the famous Asunción diner 'Bolsi' on my last night there. Five slices of ham, three slices of cheese, sandwiched in bread and waffles, deep fried, covered in icing sugar and served with jam. If that's not a reason to go to Paraguay, I don't know what is.