Iguazú.

I would like to take a moment for us to consider the word cataract. As far as we know it started off in Greece. Katarhaktes means "broken, falling water;" "swooping, rushing, striking down;" and even "portcullis." "Portcullis," probably, because of the way that castle gates come slamming down. In Latin the word cataractus simply came to mean "waterfall." The French, however, looked at the Greeks, thought of castle doors in terms of "obstruction," and passed their interpretation to English. Then we labeled an eye-disease.

Cataract can also meas waterfall in English, and it strikes me as silly that such a beautiful word connotes blindness. Countless gallons of rushing water subjected to gravity and empty space... to me, that deserves strong syllables; hard sounds that ring while they flow. Cataract.

Forgive my etymological gushing (katarhaktes?). It's just that today I went to Iguazu falls in Northeastern Argentina, and I couldn't help but think of the brave letters that strive to depict beauty like that. In Spanish it's catarata. I mean, it was really just a wide lazy river that ran out of ground, but holy shit! rainbows and fireworks. You get dizzy, and the improbability of the mist and the roar, it eats you. Cataract. My eyes were so wide open.

Unfortunately my experience of Iguazu was tempered by fast-food courts, long lines, a cheesy train that played music, motorized rafts full of screaming sight-seers, and hoards upon hoards of co-revelers. I mean, I don't mind sharing nature with people, but there must be a way to make an awesome waterfall seem less like Disneyland? Maybe? I asked myself this as I watched a giant jungle-ant struggle to move a Pringle.

But whatever. I saw wordless falling water and weird racoonish-beings with long snouts and some of the most out of control spider web fortresses ever. Mist fogged my sun-glasses and I thought I could fly. I will try to forget to bandaids on the concrete path.

Tomorrow Nathaniel and I are planning to leave Puerto Iguazu and hitchhike our way westward across northern Argentina toward Salta, Jujuy, and Bolivia. The first large intermediate city we want to reach is called "Corrientes," and I am very excited to find myself a piece of cardboard, write that (very wonderful) word on it with my green Sharpie, and then stick out my thumb. I realize that I haven't written much about our experience hitching ~2800 kilometers to Buenos Aires (I'm planning on dedicating a whole post to our crazy road life soon--until then look at Nathaniel's blog), but it was awesome and I'm excited to do it again. So here's to the vagrant life, and cups of mate served steaming on the highway...