Loin to the Pepper

"Aussie aussie aussie! Oi oi oi!"

Not too many of the locals seemed to know that one.  But that didn't stop our table from cheering this very Australian bar cry it at this local restuarant. And it seemed to be mostly "locals" there that night, if locals here at Iguazu are Argentinians and out-of-towners are anyone who isn't from this country.

(This is Brendon's shirt, which I've made to look a bit more local at this point.)
We'd met a lovely Australian couple while having some drinks by the pool, and somehow the night ended up going much longer than anticipated. We'd meant to just share a drink. How did we end up packed in a cab, giggling and driving around greater Puerto Iguazu searching for alfajores in the middle of the night?

We'd laughed about the menu translations (what is "Loin to the Pepper" exactly?) shared some fun stories (aparrently George Michael is actually a very cool guy in person) and managed to have a very interesting conversation with a sweet, young cab driver.

What a good sport. He was very much intrigued by our group--a married couple from the US, a very cool gay dude, and a very pretty señorita.

He actually asked if she was really a señorita, so of course we said yes. Are you really allowed to ask such a thing? It might have been me, though; I may have begun only very loosely translating the conversation at this point. She said from the back of the cab something about the thrill of getting to claim that again, and then Johnny demanded to return to his once purer state as well and be called a señorito, and...silliness pretty much ensued. 

Brendon and I awoke in a crusty haze of memories--how many bottles of wine came to our table last night?--and stumbled down to breakfast.  There were Maria and Johnny, and we had to have a giggle again as we pieced together our amusing dinner.

Brendon: Maria, did you ever get that guy's number last night? You know, the one with the hair?

Maria: Um...no, you got him in a bear hug back at the hotel before I could get to him, remember?

Breakfast helped us feel better (and remember things...good, we did remember to both pay and go home with our credit card). 

Then Johnny and I wandered over to the hotel spa. He'd told me I just needed to poke my head in and see how beautifully zen it was.  Mmm, it smelled marvelous!  I told the lady at the counter that it did. She replied in Spanish:

"That's the smell of lemon.  It's the smell of harmony." I made sure Johnny understood exactly what she'd said, because I wouldn't want him not to know this important tidbit of olefactory information.  He was mightily impressed.

Once we'd had our fill of beautiful fruit and the yummiest pastries we'd ever seen (I'm on alfajor #4 at this point in the trip) we parted ways with our new friends and returned to the very important business of being responsible travellers.

Thank you, Johnny, for posing in our picture next to the unfortunately-shaped buoys.

We were determined to be proper tourists and go see the falls.  And we really actually made a valiant effort.  We didn't decide to return to our rooms to nurse our headaches until we actually got inside the park and sat in the car under the driving rain for a good 5 minutes.

But the fact that we'd booked this leg of the trip for a 3-day stay in the event of inclimate weather was just staring us in the face, and we retreated.  It was back to the hotel to take a soothing dip in their ridiculous pool, drink some agua gaseosa, and prepare for a real hike the next day.

And now this morning I've awoken to the sounds of the jungle's birds and the lovely sight of its instensely green foliage not bending under the weight of a monsoon.  We went to bed early last night and are now prepared to see everything the falls have to offer!

And sitting here smelling the breakfast they're making downstairs makes me think that I ought to debate the lady in the spa. It's not lemon, it's bacon that actually smells like harmony. Loin to the pepper.