Buses, Buses, Waterfalls, and the beauty that is Patagonia

Now, people say that travel broadens the mind, and by and large that's true.

However, getting to the places that broadens your mind can sometimes be, well, mind crushingly tedious.

I leave Bolivia by overnight train. It's 9 bone shaking hours to the border with Argentina but I have a cunning plan. I have taken advantage of Bolivia's wonderfully lax attitude to pharmacy and bought a job lot of Diazepam.

The last time I legally had these wonderful little pills was when a girl called Ymanda gave me a 'neck massage' in University. Long story short, she ruptured the muscles in my neck and I past out from the pain whilst in the shower the following morning. This episode is why nobody is allowed to 'massage' me without a certificate, or some sort of evidence that they've had training in massage therapy.

Of course since then girlfriends have tried to 'massage' me in some sort of foreplay type situation, I dismiss the whole idea, usually by pushing sex on them, which leads to many a row about me not being 'sensitive' or something.

Anyway, 1 Diazepam later and it's the morning! and I'm at the border. I expect the transition from Bolivia to Argentina to be a bit like water to oil, one place is sticky, smelly, and hard work to get around. The other is clear, calm, and healthy.

How wrong I was. The first Argentinian town I come to all the cash machine don't work. All of them. All 4 of them.

I beg and plead with the bus comapany to let me travel ahead to Salta, and that I'd pay there. No dice, they all want cash, but I don't have cash, because ALL of the cash machines don't work in the WHOLE town! all 4 of them!

Eventually I find one company that takes Visa and I'm off. It's 8 hours to Salta so I run out the last of my battery power listening to some 'we're not cool' mixes on my Ipod, and marveling at the progressively more beautiful scenery.

My friend is 'we're not cool' and his mixes are really really good. the tracks fit so well with my mindset and mood that they have soundtracked almost half of my trip. I'd never tell him this though, and luckly he can't read or write, but they have been a saving grace for me on this trip. I never ever realized how big this country was, and what appears close on a map is easily 9 hours away, and I used to think getting from Cardiff to London was a pain of a journey.

I stop overnight at Salta and leave the following day for Igazu. This is another 23 hours away on a bus. When I finally get off the bus the warm humidity of late afternoon Igazu lifts my tired legs.

I checked into my hostel and fall straight into the swimming pool, the fresh, ripe, cold water is a wicked shot to the system.

I get up early and head for the falls, where I have arranged to meet Luke and Jade, and 2 wicked Aussie fellas who were on our bus the day before. Luke and Jade have now become my antidote to all the other twats that I've met on this trip, their positvity and general niceness cheers me up no end. And as we all jump about waiting to buy tickets in the sunshine, it makes me feel like we're on a unsupervised school trip to Alton Towers.

As we wander closer to the falls the noise of the water hums in the background, not really giving us a clue of what we're about to see, and the sight catches me a little off guard.

Massive waterfalls strech out in front of us like a rainbow on it's side, the white clouds of water that jump up from the bottom of the falls rise up to about halfway, making it difficult to see how far down they go, and the falls ark around for what feels like miles.

We all go a bit quiet, then start laughing and smiling like loons. Everyone takes photos and then we get on a boat ride into the jaws of the falls. I get sodden wet but it's the best 20 minutes on a boat I've ever had.

We spend the rest of the day walking around the paths, joking, and bantering. We meet a couple of Yanky ladies who are living in Buenos Aires, and we all arrange to have a drink up at the hotel in the evening.