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Brazil's Water Curtain ... a vist to Iguacu Falls Photographs and text: Jayakrishnan Flying high above the Brazilian rainforests, the vulture sees the Rio Iguacu, snaking leisurely and noiselessly... then with an impulsive change of personality, widens majestically around the vast forest stage, and falls in multiple tiers deep into the canyon, creating Igucau Falls, the largest in the planet. From August to November, this natural wonder located at the border of Brazil and Argentina is filled with exuberant Argentinians, Paraguayans and Brazilians on weekend escapes and other international tourists in search of the hot tropical climate, thick rain forests and natural hot springs. But from May to July, when the floods come, Igucu turns from being majestic to formidable and hazardous. The tropical summer, with isolated rains, was the season when I visited Iguacu, in the first week of March. Visitors were few. I had made a spur of the moment decision to visit the falls. But even with two day's notice I was able to organise flights and hotel accommodation. I was in Sao Paulo, the commercial capital of Brazil, on a business trip and had the weekend off. Located at the city of Foz do Iguacu near the junction of Parana and Iguacu rivers, which form the tripartite Paraguayan, Brazilian and Argentinian borders, the Iguacu falls besides being the major tourist attraction, provides employment for 70 per cent of the population. Cross the Ponte Presidente Tancredo Neves Bridge over Rio Iguacu and you are in Argentina and Ponte da Amizade Bridge over the Rio Parana links Brazil to Paraguay. A wide semicircular cascade of pure white water falls into the gorge, like long shiny silk curtains, tens of them, hang against the abundant green backdrop of the rainforests on the Argentinian side. The water falls into the canyon, into the Iguacu river, that is the first view of the falls from the Brazilian side. There are just a few colours around in the landscape, the milky white water, the thick green jungle, the light blue sky and the floating white clouds. The falls are not that far from where you stand, you can clearly see tourists walking over the bridge over the falls in Argentina from here, and the flock of vultures circling over them, at an altitude. As you walk along the curved path, tall trees on either side creating a green tunnel so that you are protected from the sun, you see more and more falls. The water surges forward from the green background, as if happy to escape from the tranquil forest setting, and do something electrifying, like bungy jumping without a rope, into the deep abyss of the canyon. At some point, one loses count of the falls, they are not to be counted, just experienced. The path leads us into a walkway, jutting into a tier of the falls. You feel like you are in a bowl, surrounded on all 270 degrees by falls of different sizes and shapes, and the king of the falls---Garganta do Diabo or Devil's Throat is just a few metres in front of you. As you look up from where you stand, you see thick sheets of water, very wide, as they come crashing onto the brown boulders, at your level, spraying water droplets, striking your face causing a ticklish tingling sensation on your cheeks and drenching you in just a few seconds. The sound is deafening. The water sheet is thin at the edges, one can see the rocks behind it through the veil. A flock of birds even has a nest behind it. But at the center, it is like a white iron curtain, molten and burning with energy. As the water hits the bottom, some of it rises up back again, with a force, like lava that gets spewn out of the mouth of an active volcano. As if rejuvenated by this giant fall, the water flows from there, without any signs of fatigue, below the walkway on which we are standing and then leaps suicidally, to the Iguacu river flowing deep below. As you look around, you see countless number of waterfalls, each one tempting your eyes with an offer of something new and beautiful, most of them falling directly into the river, no transitional steps for them. The intense cloud of spray at the base of these falls rises high and envelops the evergreens that spread up the hillsides---a natural purdah. A rainbow manages to escape from this permanent fog, but arches back to disappear into its belly. By this time your whole body is covered with water, the little droplets have now started to become streams, flowing down from your face. This is completely different from the rational world, where you have to reason your every move, justify each action; this is a world of respect and wonder, fear and fascination and grace with elegance---the perfection of nature. Though Argentina is just across the river, it takes half an hour by road to get to the falls. You don't need a visa, if you are going just to see the falls, you just need to fill a form and show your passport. Once you cross the Friendship Bridge over the Iguacu river, you are in Argentina. A walk through the national park takes you straight over the falls, where you stand on a bridge and watch the mild stream, take a sudden change of character and with a mighty roar, plunges deep down. A wooden board at the side of the highway in the national park in the Brazilian side announced the entrance of the Macuco Safari, a ride through the rainforests to the bank of Iguacu river. All terrain jeeps with trailers carrying wooden benches for tourists stand waiting, butterflies of so many colours flutter all around, some come and even sit on your hand, and flap their wings, displaying the gaudy patterns on the wings. Though the officials claim that a large number of pumas and jaguars live in the jungle, none were visible during the safari; it would be naive to assume that these wild animals would line up the side of the road, in anticipation of the tourists, like the mongoose family which were lingering near the store selling chips and cold drinks. This fact was emphasised by our guide Reginaldo in Portuguese, Spanish and English and he spent more time describing the various trees found the rain forests, like the timbauva, whose vines when cut open would give you fresh water, a useful piece of information to know if you are ever trapped in the jungle. An inflatable boat stood at the bank of the Iguacu River powered by two Suzuki 200 engines, which would take us to the base of the falls, through the mild rapids of the Iguacu. The other side of the riverbank, Argentina, also had a similar base for boats. The boat driver, who had a very strange likeness to Popeye, very cleverly navigated the boat through the rapids, and made sure that each one of us in the boat got wet. As the boat got tossed up in the waves, people screamed, Popeye gave a smile of satisfaction, and took the boat, upstream through the river towards the falls. An egret flew past us, as if it were on an urgent business, without even a glance at the boat with all these people being tossed around by the waves. The clatter of the helicopter which flew above the canyon faded and the sounds of the falls became forceful. Wiping the water off our faces, we saw that we were at the base of the falls called Twin Sisters, an arrogant display of power by nature, of force, of volume and of sound. Popeye stopped the boat, it swayed in the waves, while we looked at the falls. The little boy sitting next to me said "Oh No!" I had just enough time to put my camera in the bag and push it under the seat, before Popeye took the boat straight into the falls, and the moment we thought we would hit it, he took a sharp U-turn, getting everyone completely soaked to the skin in the spray for a memorable baptism. It was like being in a monsoon without an umbrella. He took us again under the falls, as people were screaming for more. The energy levels were soaring, when we returned back, and the Canadian lady who was sitting next to me suggested that I should try white water rafting in Costa Rica the next time. Though scientific studies point to volcanic activity around 120 million years back as the origin of the falls, the creative minds of the native Indians have spun many interesting fables. When Spaniard Don Alvar Nunes discovered the falls in 1541 he called it Saltos de Santa Maria, but the Indian name of Iguacu, meaning Great Waters, stayed. These are the same falls that Jeremy Irons scaled in the opening shot of the 1986 Roland Joffe movie---The Mission. It was the construction of the Itaipu hydroelectric dam on Rio Parana, the largest in the world, in 1974 that caused a demographic explosion in Foz do Iguacu. The population here is now a mix of Arabs, Chinese, Koreans, Italians and Japanese with the local population. At that time around 40,000 people moved in. It was at the same time that a large number of hotels came up, which were patronised by people from all over Brazil who went to Paraguay to enjoy duty free shopping, and now Foz do Iguacu has around 200 hotels. Since they are located above the Botucatu Reservoir, the largest underground waterbasin in the world, most hotels offer a hotspring pool of crystal-clear water. This water, which flows abundantly to the surface is at a temperature of 36-degree Celsius all year around and has medicinal qualities, making it perfect for the skin and general health. Tourism is the major industry of Foz do Iguacu; it is the third most visited city in Brazil, after Sao Paulo and Rio de Janeiro. It is linked by very modern roads to Asuncion in Paraguay and Buenos Aires in Argentina. There are three airports, which serve the region, and the airports in Puerto Iguacu in Argentina and Ciudad del Este in Paraguay share the air traffic control of the international airport. While sitting near the Devil's Throat and watching the sparse crowd of tourists, I spotted someone waving at me. I have not seen him before. He then walked towards me, and asked "Aap Indian hai kya" "Yes" "Where in India?" "Kerala" "Oh, aap Madrasi hai.." I held back my feelings and gave a feeble smile. How did he know that I was an Indian, was it my oily hair or my brown skin? Lakhi Lalwani was a "businessman" from Paraguay; he brings in electronic goods from India and gives it to Brazilians, who smuggle it to their country. As Paraguay does not have much of tourist spots, he has to come to Brazil for the weekend. I was introduced to his wife, two small daughters, elderly parents and a whole bunch of Hindi speaking youngsters. Paraguayan economy is in a real bad shape, he told me. You need 3000 Guarani to buy one US Dollar, as a result all transactions are done in US Dollars, and the Guarani has only historical value. He offered me an Indian lunch in his car, but as I had a flight to catch, I had to decline. As a parting gift, he opened his purse and gave me a 1000 Guarani note, for his memory. The two days spent at Iguacu was a perfect escape from the busy business life of Sao Paulo. Sitting at the window seat of the Trans-Brazil flight to the east coast, I took a last look at the falls as the aircraft circled over the national park, visible as a small white patch, in the never ending thick green rainforests extending to the horizon---creative work of god, an inspiration to man. Tell us what you think of this feature

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