We made it to the border with Paraguay by afternoon and stopped for the night at a truck stop.
The kids and I stayed with the motorhome and Bill took the ferry across the Paraguay River into Asuncion. He went to get the papers necessary to bring the motorhome into the country. He returned early evening with the news that he didn’t get anything accomplished so he would have to go back the next day.
The next morning I accompanied him back to Asuncion. The short ferry ride was uneventful. Bill went up to the Aduana and presented our passports. Bill explained that we had a motorhome and children and wanted to complete the necessary paperwork to visit his beautiful country. Well come to find out Paraguay was no longer allowing cars registered in the United States or Germany to enter the country. Too many people were bringing them in and then selling them on the black market. Bill explained that we were traveling and just wanted to visit their country, not sell the motorhome. No amount of explaining worked - in fact the discussion turned in to a farce that was not funny at the time.
Along the way Bill had grown a beard, just a short one but never the less a beard. Suddenly it became the focus of attention. The bottom line was that American men with beards were not allowed into Paraguay for any reason. Beards? And especially American men with beards and a motorhome! Okay - a Che Guevara thing maybe?
No amount of cajoling would change their minds. So we were escorted back to the ferry and watched as we crossed the river to the Argentine side. Didn’t even get our passports stamped.
Back the way we had come. Past the ant hills, this time we didn’t stop. Stopped at the same campground for the evening. No gauchos visited us this time.
October 15th a Sunday - it was Mother’s Day in Argentina. We were now heading towards the Iguaçu Falls and the Brazilian border. We passed through Corrientes and stopped at a campground at Paseo de la Patria, Argentina. We decided to stay there a couple of days, so up went the tent (we were thinking when we packed to leave and remembered to bring it.) The weather was quite warm by then as it was summer and we were further north.
The campground was right on the Parana River and this section of the river is famous for its Golden Trout.
There was an older couple camped just down from us they had been out on the river fishing when we arrived and set up camp. They came over to meet us and show us the fish they had caught. Huge trout. Of course Paul struck up a conversation with them and asked if he could go fishing with them.
The next morning they came over and asked if Paul and Gil wanted to go out on the boat with them fishing. Before we could think about it the Paul and Gil were in the boat. Off they went out on the river to fish. We stayed around the campground enjoying the peace and quiet. From time to time we could hear and see excitement in the boat and fish being pulled from the water.
As the heat of the day began the boat started towards shore. We could hear Paul yelling, “I got a fish. I got a fish.” The boat barely touched the shore and he was out and running towards us with one of the biggest fish I’d ever seen. He had caught a Golden Trout almost as big as him.
“He did it all himself,” Raul told us as he tied off the boat. “Nelida only helped him pull it out of the water.” So Randy cleaned it and we had it for dinner that night.
The time we spent on the river was great. Everybody had a chance to fish, but Paul’s catch was the prize.
When not fishing the kids were bug chasing, lots of new and different kinds. Ugh, and I got to inspect each and every one. When Randy was cleaning the fish he managed to get the “guts” and smell all over his pants so he decided to wash them himself. While he was still in them - by sitting in the river and scrubbing. Worked for me at least I didn’t have to do it.
Later Bill and I went into the little town to the market to buy groceries. Surprise there was no milk. Hadn’t run into this for a while.
The next day we were on the road again, still headed towards Brazil. We only did a couple hundred miles and stopped for the day at the spectacular ruins of San Ignacio mission. We camped at a pull off right across from the ruins. Then spent the better part of the afternoon wandering around what was left of the buildings. In places the jungle had completely taken over - covering the floors and crawling up the crumbling walls. That evening a boy of about nine or ten came by and asked if we wanted to buy one of his fathers carvings. We said okay and he took us to his father who had a little thatch covered stand set up along the road. He had taken branches from trees and carved faces in them. They were fantastic. We finally picked out one to buy. In fact we still have it. Coming out from the main branch where the face was carved were lots of little branches and twigs, so it looked like the carving had hair. We named him Incha-coyuyos - loosely translated as pest - as it was hard to find a place to keep him safe. Over the years the smaller twigs have broken off and today only the heavier branches are left.
The kids and I stayed with the motorhome and Bill took the ferry across the Paraguay River into Asuncion. He went to get the papers necessary to bring the motorhome into the country. He returned early evening with the news that he didn’t get anything accomplished so he would have to go back the next day.
The next morning I accompanied him back to Asuncion. The short ferry ride was uneventful. Bill went up to the Aduana and presented our passports. Bill explained that we had a motorhome and children and wanted to complete the necessary paperwork to visit his beautiful country. Well come to find out Paraguay was no longer allowing cars registered in the United States or Germany to enter the country. Too many people were bringing them in and then selling them on the black market. Bill explained that we were traveling and just wanted to visit their country, not sell the motorhome. No amount of explaining worked - in fact the discussion turned in to a farce that was not funny at the time.
Along the way Bill had grown a beard, just a short one but never the less a beard. Suddenly it became the focus of attention. The bottom line was that American men with beards were not allowed into Paraguay for any reason. Beards? And especially American men with beards and a motorhome! Okay - a Che Guevara thing maybe?
No amount of cajoling would change their minds. So we were escorted back to the ferry and watched as we crossed the river to the Argentine side. Didn’t even get our passports stamped.
Back the way we had come. Past the ant hills, this time we didn’t stop. Stopped at the same campground for the evening. No gauchos visited us this time.
October 15th a Sunday - it was Mother’s Day in Argentina. We were now heading towards the Iguaçu Falls and the Brazilian border. We passed through Corrientes and stopped at a campground at Paseo de la Patria, Argentina. We decided to stay there a couple of days, so up went the tent (we were thinking when we packed to leave and remembered to bring it.) The weather was quite warm by then as it was summer and we were further north.
The campground was right on the Parana River and this section of the river is famous for its Golden Trout.
There was an older couple camped just down from us they had been out on the river fishing when we arrived and set up camp. They came over to meet us and show us the fish they had caught. Huge trout. Of course Paul struck up a conversation with them and asked if he could go fishing with them.
The next morning they came over and asked if Paul and Gil wanted to go out on the boat with them fishing. Before we could think about it the Paul and Gil were in the boat. Off they went out on the river to fish. We stayed around the campground enjoying the peace and quiet. From time to time we could hear and see excitement in the boat and fish being pulled from the water.
As the heat of the day began the boat started towards shore. We could hear Paul yelling, “I got a fish. I got a fish.” The boat barely touched the shore and he was out and running towards us with one of the biggest fish I’d ever seen. He had caught a Golden Trout almost as big as him.
“He did it all himself,” Raul told us as he tied off the boat. “Nelida only helped him pull it out of the water.” So Randy cleaned it and we had it for dinner that night.
The time we spent on the river was great. Everybody had a chance to fish, but Paul’s catch was the prize.
When not fishing the kids were bug chasing, lots of new and different kinds. Ugh, and I got to inspect each and every one. When Randy was cleaning the fish he managed to get the “guts” and smell all over his pants so he decided to wash them himself. While he was still in them - by sitting in the river and scrubbing. Worked for me at least I didn’t have to do it.
Later Bill and I went into the little town to the market to buy groceries. Surprise there was no milk. Hadn’t run into this for a while.
The next day we were on the road again, still headed towards Brazil. We only did a couple hundred miles and stopped for the day at the spectacular ruins of San Ignacio mission. We camped at a pull off right across from the ruins. Then spent the better part of the afternoon wandering around what was left of the buildings. In places the jungle had completely taken over - covering the floors and crawling up the crumbling walls. That evening a boy of about nine or ten came by and asked if we wanted to buy one of his fathers carvings. We said okay and he took us to his father who had a little thatch covered stand set up along the road. He had taken branches from trees and carved faces in them. They were fantastic. We finally picked out one to buy. In fact we still have it. Coming out from the main branch where the face was carved were lots of little branches and twigs, so it looked like the carving had hair. We named him Incha-coyuyos - loosely translated as pest - as it was hard to find a place to keep him safe. Over the years the smaller twigs have broken off and today only the heavier branches are left.
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