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Birdsong Alarms and Waterfall Kisses (pt. 2 of 3 on Iguazú)

Hi all, and welcome to Part Two of my Iguazú (I missed the accent on all spellings of this word in the first post.  Lo siento mucho) reflections.  Since this is my second part, I’m going to write not ONE but TWO short-story type reflections (oh boy oh boy!).  One will be about a birdwatching trek through the jungle that I took with my folks one early, cloudy, and beautiful morning; and the other is about a chilling venture under the waterfalls on a powerboat.  I hope you enjoy!

PS – Pictures (and maybe even VIDEOS) are coming with the 3rd post; I’m still figuring out how to download the information from the video camera that my host fam (they are the nicest people ever) lent  me.  So, until then, enjoy some cool Argentine music.

Birdsong Alarm

My father’s voice pulls me from sleep with all the gentleness of a punch to the gut.  I relinquish my grip on unconsciousness with great reluctance, my grogginess temporarily overshadows my fast-growing excitement.  I crave a birdsong alarm to fully rouse me to the present tense.  Fast forward.  A large grey truck under a large grey sky, with green to our sides and red beneath our tires.  The English spoken by our guides has both graceful lilts and awkward stumbles that bely the Castellano underneath.  Wheels stop.  The doors slam shut.  Pause.  The air is thick with song, our shoes thick with red clay.  The guides speak the language of the forest.  They are comfortable here.  To them, each song has a name, each name a body, and through the lenses of our binoculars, sounds materialize in the shape of small, feathery animals.  A toucan, a hawk, a woodpecker, a flycatcher.  The names are almost as bizarre as the songs we hear.  Time races ahead, and the sun melts the cloud and any signs of tiredness.  We are roused, eager, soaking up the rainforest.  Tiger ants trundle tepidly underfoot but our eyes are on the heavens, looking for the messengers of song.  The South American rainforest may be dying, and we are culpable of the murder.  But today, the world reeked of invigoration. Today was an exercise in life.  And to think I wanted to sleep through it.

Waterfall Kiss






                                                 Dock are


                                                                                        and winding.

We board.  The multilingual chatter of the tourists is drowned out by the ululations of nature.The water rushes, the falls roar.  

Up close, the whitewater is massive and unforgiving.  Why didn’t I bring my raincoat?








And then it’s gone.

It was only a kiss, and I am soaked to my bones.  Remind me to never date a waterfall.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed.  Part 3 should come in a few days!


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