micheleandtom.com

Okay, that headline is not entirely accurate.

We are t-minus nine hours to lift off and are still packing and straightening. (Who planned a cross country trip leaving at 6:00 am anyway?)

We get up at 3:30 am. Girls will rise at 4:00 am. Cab comes at 4:30 am. We have checked into hotel and flight, with the added bonus that we won’t have to pay for baggage because of my Silver Medallion status! Hooray.

We will arrive in Orlando, via Atlanta in the late afternoon armed with our layers and layers of paperwork.

Disney’s Magical Express. This is the service where Disney takes your luggage directly from the plane and transports it to your hotel room — you never touch it. We have special tags we have to put on our suitcases and they are to “magically” arrive without our assistance. We are somewhat nervous about this. The Magic Express also will effect the transport of our persons,

Dining Confirmation Numbers. Disney has this crazy system where you can make your reservations 180 days in advance of your stay, which people actually do. If you are going to have a party of 7 (as we will since we’re meeting Tom’s parents and his sister there), and you want to eat at a reasonably decent restaurant, you have no chance without a reservation. This certainly complicates things because it means you have to think about your entire park plan so you can be sure to make it to your reserved dining spot.

Walking Maps. For a fee, you can access optimized walking maps of all of Disney World from the crazy folks at Touring Plans. These guys have traversed all of the parks and figured out the best days and hours from which to approach them to minimize waiting times. You can get plans for demographics that range from small kids through to retired folks, or combinations thereof. We selected the tween walking maps and pretty much planned our entire week’s stay months ago just so that we could reserve our dining! We have a printed version in hand and pdf versions on our iPhone and Droid.

Rental Car. We are going to visit the Kennedy Space Center on one of the days, so we have reserved a van that will hopefully carry all 7 of us! Can’t wait to use my superior Droid GPS turn-by-turn driving directions.

We have overpacked (the weather has been crazy cold up until this week), are feeling righteous for cooking a fresh Minestrone soup today, are watering the ficus tree of love, are desperately searching for sun screen, and are making sure we have all of the crazy electronic devices that follow us everywhere now, including requisite chargers and cables.

Wish us luck!

We have officially done it — used our Zipcar membership for the first time.

Although we attempt to utilize public transportation, or our feet, for nearly everything, this last Tuesday we just couldn’t do it. We had a 2:15 pm school pick up, after which we had to race to buy soccer cleats and shin guards for Zoe. Next, we flew across the river to a 3:30 pm doctor’s appointment for Zoe. At the end of that, we commandeered a bathroom where Zoe had to change into her soccer clothes. Back into the Zipcar we went and I dropped Zoe off at a Portland Streetcar stop where Tom and Zelda were waiting.

The hubby and I switched kids right there on the street corner, with Tom taking Zoe to her first soccer practice since returning to the US (she loved it). Zelda and I were entrusted with returning our lovely Zipcar, which occurred without mishap.

After soccer practice, we had a Blazer game to go to, so Tom and Zoe hotfooted it to Hot Lips Pizza, where she changed out of her soccer gear, and then they caught the Max to the Rose Garden. Meanwhile, Zelda and I walked over the Broadway Bridge to the arena — something I would have never done if I had a car.

Anyway, our first experience with Zipcar was fabulous. We drove a Prius and it was really fun to maneuver around town. It had separate little buttons to start the car and to put the car in park. The gear shift was a kind of video game joy stick thingy in the dash.

We had about a page of instructions on the newfangled stuff, but it was all well explained and we returned it on time (which is something you worry about since they charge you an arm and a leg if you’re even the slightest bit late).

One of the interesting things we’ve noticed about participating in a car share versus owning our own car is that it really quantifies, by the hour, the cost of operating a vehicle. And I mean the whole cost, not just the gas! Having the real cost of driving spelled out for us really motivates us to try and avoid it as much as possible!

After landing in the a.m. and retrieving all of our bags, Tom and I were dropped off at our hotel by family members while the Zs were whisked away to my parents’ place. When my hubby and I went to check in, we learned that no rooms would be ready for occupancy until 4 or 5 pm, much later in the day than we anticipated. (Note to self, cancel plans to sack out in the room immediately upon arrival, which incidentally breaks every rule of jet lag recovery, but I didn’t give a shit, I was tired.)

Anyway, back to why we adore Portland.

Although the hotel couldn’t get us in our room right away, the desk clerk was super helpful and polite and ensured that we had the biggest one bedroom possible on hold since there were 4 of us. (And boy did she deliver, this place is huge!)

Then, as we were arranging with the bellman to store our luggage until our room could be made ready, we got into a long discussion with him about grass-finished beef, Argentina, and Omnivore’s Dilemma. How awesome is that? In what other city, with the bellman…I ask you???

Anyway, before our bags could be whisked away, Tom and I dove in and grabbed a “welcome home Rice Krispy Treat” that Mom had made for us. It felt good to be home.

Photo by Cacophony under creative commons license.

If you asked Zelda what her favorite thing about traveling to Iguazú Falls was, you might be surprised by her answer.

Was it the boat trip into the falls? NO.

Was it the jeep ride through the jungle? NO.

Was it the vista from our hotel balcony overlooking the falls themselves? NO.

I am willing to bet that the most-liked feature of our trip for the smallest member of the Offermann/Reeves clan was the buffet at the Sheraton. The evening repast featured a cornucopia of eating option, spread across multiple stations in two separate rooms. She was in heaven, and announced to one and all, “this is my first buffet.” (I think the 4-tiered chocolate fondue fountain really put it over the top for her.)

We realized that although she had previously been to a few all-you-can-eat fests, she was too young to remember them. So this dining experience, complete with live harpist shilling his CDs, was one to remember.

That’s not to say she didn’t really enjoy everything else! The rushing waters were a blast to motor through. (Because of the high water levels, only the tour with the big boats was running.) Zelda also explored the labyrinth of trails with enthusiasm. And, she managed to avoid being attacked by a coati scavenging for food. (A coati is a member of the raccoon family and are also known as Brazilian aardvarks, hog-nosed coons and snookum bears. They roam around taking food from tourists, but there are warnings everywhere that they can attack for vittles.)

Unfortunately, due to the pretty extreme weather, not a lot of toucans and monkeys were hanging about, but we were happy to exchange the fauna for such a spectacularly dramatic falls experience!

We arrived at Iguazú in one piece around 5:00 pm on a Friday, when we pulled into the Sheraton, which we selected because it is right smack dab in the middle of the park (you can see the top of the falls and walk the trails from the lobby). No doubt the hotel is an architectural eyesore, but the interior is fine and its smallish size makes it very easy to negotiate.

After checking in, the power blinked out just as we made our way to the elevator with our bags. The poor folks stuck in the ascensor began banging away from the inside since they couldn’t leave their box-like confines. We figure the electricity goes out fairly frequently, because no hotel staff members felt the need to comfort their trapped guests.

I finally couldn’t take it anymore and marched to the lift to explain through the metal doors, in Spanish, that the power was kaput and that the hotel was attempting to get them out as soon as possible (although there was really no evidence to support that statement). Then, I practically forced a Sheraton employee to go talk to them.

We made a mental note to ourselves at that point to avoid the elevator!

By 5:45 pm, we were ensconced in our room. We looked out from our balcony, but could hardly see the falls through all the rain and mist. That’s when I declared, “screw it, we’re here…let’s go.”

We set out on the trails, even though there were signs posted everywhere saying the park was closed from 6:00 pm to 8:00 am. So there we were, just before closing on a rainy Friday, in one of the most majestic spots on the globe…and we had the park to ourselves!! It was exhilarating to run solo along the steel walkways that are perched atop the lips of the falls with the raging waters crashing all around us.

In fact, it was so intense, Zoe was a little shaken after our first pass through the park.

Later, we found out why. The normal flow rate is about 1,500 cubic meters per second, but while we were there, the chocolate brown water was moving at a clip of about 11,000 cubic meters per second. Intense is right.

To get to the falls of Iguazú, we reunited with our friend Mario Andretti, I mean Ariel, and took off over the treacherous clay roads tucked into our 4 x 4 yet again. (It had been raining before our trip, so the passage seemed a little bumpier than our way into Iberá.) Everyone heaved a big sigh of relief when we hit a two lane paved highway after about 2 hours.

Sadly, that relief lasted for a mere moment, because Mario immediately began passing people like a crazy man.

As we were driving, we noticed rather large mounds of dirt everywhere; it was as if oversized moles had been at work in the fields surrounding our passage way. Turns out, they were termite mounds and boy were they prolific. For some reason, we found their being ubiquitous to be rather creepy, so we tried not to think about it too much.

Three hours into the trip, we took a break for some lunch and a tour of las ruinas de San Ignacio Miní, a mission built by the Jesuits and the Guaraní dating from the late 1600s.

At lunch, we talked with Ariel a bit more about Iberá and tourism to the area. He said that about 70% of the visitors are from Europe and 30% are from Argentina. Us Norte Americanos are not well represented, apparently. He did note that they have seen a downward impact on visitor levels from the global recession.

The visit to the Mission was pretty dramatic. As you can see here, there is little left, but what remains shows you the impact of the clay red sandstone used to build the front of the church. Walking through the buildings and the central plaza, you can still get a sense of the grand scale of the community. The priests’ living quarters, which weren’t large, had lovely stone floors, huge windows and a door out to a generous terrace — it must have been truly stunning. (A partial picture below.)

Also, off the terrace was the largest “cactus tree” I’ve ever seen, which is pictured below as well. (A note on the pix, they present very washed out as thumbnails — click on them to really see the richness and detail of the construction.)

Anyhow, I am sitting in Ariel’s truck as I write this on the last leg of our drive, hoping we will make it to Iguazú alive — it is pouring rain, the terrain has become quite hilly and visibility is rapidly deteriorating. Unfortunately, bad driving conditions have not stopped the aggressive driving nature of our conductor. *sigh*

I believe I may have left indentations of my fingers in the Z’s legs as I clutched with fear during the near-accident we were just involved in as Mario passed yet another car.

I think it’s time to close my computer.

(Tom thought my blogging in the back seat was so funny, he took a picture of that as well!)

While in the marshes of Iberá, our guide told us there were three types of large reptiles living in the lagunas: the green cayman, some sort of blunt nosed cayman and the black cayman, which grow to be the largest — up to about 3 m. The black variety was by far the most common during our visit.

As far as we could observe, they spend much of the day recharging their cold-blooded batteries by basking in the sun, often with their mouths hinged open. They are so preternaturally still for such long periods of time, we were all starting to joke that the lodge had placed plastic caymans around the estuaries for tours.

Just as you would find yourself lulled into a false sense of security though, one would randomly scurry off into the water incredibly quickly. (The first time that happened, Zoe suddenly saw the wisdom of keeping her hands out of the water while near land in the shallower depths.)

They hunt at night, eating fish when the water is cold, making their prey more sluggish and easy to catch. There is a relative of the piranha in the waters of Iberá that is supposed to be a favorite treat. We went on a night excursion and, using a strong flashlight, we could see cayman eyes reflecting back at us — glowing orbs gliding silently over the surface of the water as they searched for hapless fish. It was eerie.

Linguistically, I thought I would mention that Yacaré is the Guaraní word for the cayman, and it roughly signifies something submerged, drifting over the water with just a head poking out.

On another linguistic side note, Tom and I have been arguing over the spelling of caiman/cayman. I like it with a “y” and Tom prefers it with an “i” — you will probably see both in the entries as the editorial battle rages on. Yes, I know, we need to find something more meaty to argue over, really!

What barks like a dog, hangs out in the water like a hippo, is furry like a brown bear, and resembles a hog rooting around in the marshes? That would be the capybara (carpincho in Spanish).

They are everywhere in Esteros del Iberá, and currently seem to live the life of Riley…bring on some big cat predators, I say. The cayman appear to be scared of these gigantic rat relatives and are often seen scurrying away when one lets loose with a hoarse bark.

I had a hard time getting the Spanish name for the capybara straight, and for some unknown reason actually kept wanting to say “pinchero” instead of “carpincho.” Now, this is a very bad substitution, since the former essentially means “fucker” in Spanish. I nearly gave the guide a heart attack one day when I didn’t catch myself and made the ill-fated switch. I flashed him my most pathetic “gringa speaking Spanish” look and he let it slide. Whew.

From there on out though, Tom and I began to think of the capybara as an expletive, and I’m afraid it’s going to stick, forever cementing the two words together in my mind. *sigh*

As others have written before me, the Argentines are serious about their hygiene. There are bidets besprinkled pretty much everywhere throughout the country.

Personally, I’ve never really been a fan, they seem more trouble than they are worth. The bidet in our apartment is never used, except to store toilet paper rolls over the knobs. (There’s literally no extra space in our bathroom.)

Anyway, my transition to bidetophile came about as a result of an extreme case of gastrointestinal distress that led to massive amounts of vomiting and diarrhea. Residing at the Posada de la Laguna during this illness, sipping my lovely deliveries of green tea and toast from the kitchen staff, caused me to feel as if I were staying at some sort of twisted, bulimic weight loss spa!

I digress…again, sorry.

So, one day, while my poor body was purging itself of toxins, my keen family was on the water attempting to canoe amongst the spectacular flora and fauna in gale force winds. This meant I didn’t have anyone to fetch me new toilet paper, causing me to eyeball the bidet, reluctantly realizing it was going to act as savior with my low supply of tissue.

I held off for as long as I could, but finally, I succumbed to the siren song of warm moisture (as opposed to the razor sharp papel higiénico squares I was using). It took me about an hour to figure out all of the knobs and settings, but once I gave it a test run, I thought it was so damn great, I insisted Tom give it a try! (The poor man, it must be hell being married to me.)

What a treasure this area is. Esteros del Iberá is one of the largest wetland/marsh areas in the world. It became a provincial reserve in Corrientes about 25 years ago.

The region features huge floating islands of compressed dead grasses and plants that support an incredible array of biodiversity that you can view via small boat, canoe, on foot and horseback while visiting.

The population of caiman (the Latin alligator) has recovered quite nicely, as has the marsh deer. I’m particularly fond of the latter, of which we saw quite a few, because these unusual ungulates apparently have hooves that expand to allow them to walk in the soft, moist soil. And, last but not least, the region is home to a thriving population of capybara. For those not familiar with this particular creature, the carpincho (as they are called here) is not only the largest rodent in the world, but if our observations over four days are at all reliable, it is also the most carefree.

If you are a birder, you could see a zillion life birds here.

One of our favorite avian moments happened when we came upon a very large bird settled atop a tall palm tree, yelling at us with its ignominious cry. It was really a Dr. Seuss visual.

The Iberá reservists hope to continue their species recovery work by reintroducing many of the animals that were hunted to extinction in the area, some of which include big cats, the tapir, the giant anteater, and wild boars. They are starting with the howler monkey though. The marshes here represent their southern-most habitat on this continent. The forested area where they currently reside can support about 15 monkeys, which is the size of the population living there now.

We will be following anxiously the fortunes of this delicate ecosystem over the next decade as it fends off threats from poachers and hydro-electric dams (run off increases the water levels and destroys the marshes). We hope that the whole of Argentina recognizes this area for the incredible national treasure that it is.