Big Bums, Big Meat and The Big Jesus

Shiny Happy People in Rio!

I mostly look for ways to be scornful and blase.  In fact I devote my life to it.  Tell me an interesting tale - "Whatevs" I may reply.  Show me something amazing and I'll be like "Meh".  Give me an incredible meal and I'm bound to say "Had better".  I can't help it.  I'm a bastard.  At least I know it.  That must go someways to redemption.

Incredibly cool city

Hi Jesus

Talking of redemption here we were at last.  Home of the big redeemer himself.  If there was going to be any atonement what so ever, I was going to get it from the Main Man of all things redeemable.  The big C. - aka The Lord.  As you drive into Rio, there he blows - up on the hill like he's about to bungee jump onto Rio itself.  Gooooooooo Jesus!  They light him up at night, and despite not exactly being in the International Fan Club of Jesus - I was loving the sight, as was my little Jewish friend next to me.  We of course visited up close and personal.  Took some photos. felt confident we had "done" Cristo Redentor - if he was in Australia he would, of course, be The Big Jesus.

There's only one person who looks good from the back here....

Rio is the shit.  It lives up to the hype of complete fabulousness.  You can't be scornful - that city has all the charm and character you could ever want.  For a start it is naturally gorgeous.  Built on an incredible coastline is a good start.  Any metropolis edged by wonderful beaches has already done well.  Rio makes the most of it's ocean frontage with wide open promenades running alongside of it, for people to walk, run, ride, walk their dogs, roller blade (if they are passe - although apparently rollerblades are "vintage" now - so how old does that make you all feel?).  That part of the city has a very Tel Aviv feel to it.

Apparently there's good night life - I stress "apparently" here

View from the room

But unlike Tel Aviv, behind the beachie front juts a series of giant granite outcrops.  They look a bit like the limestone karsts of Krabi in Thailand.  Anyway, Rio's granite mountains are densely covered in lush greenery, as are all the hills up behind the city.  There is a huge national park that forms the backdrop to the amazing frontage.  This national park protects the city's water supply, and is home to lots of animals, waterfalls, places for hiking (as if).  The actual city itself, is of course diverse, but it is noticeably full of historical buildings from the 1800s in various states of disrepair.  Crumbling and cracking streets, and the robust vines and greenery trying to push out of anywhere it can.  The city itself has a ban on billboards for advertising, and if anyone has experienced this before (Havana in Cuba for us), it is so refreshing and gives a certain kind of mental peacefulness that makes you realise how much crap is being pounded into our brains from everywhere we look in most other places.  Although David Beckham in his underpants is always welcome.

Copacabana Beach

To get between areas in Rio, you have to typically drive through long tunnels that have been burrowed through the rocky outcrops.  Also something worth mentioning are the favelas (slums) that surround the city.  Apparently 6% of Brazil's population live in the slum areas - which totals about 11.4 million people.   A sizable amount.   Rio is famous for it's favelas, and although the poorest of the poor areas, they have a certain attractiveness when viewed from a distance.  Not so much on the close up though.  Take a wrong turn off the highway and within 5 minutes you can be stuck in the middle of one with no idea of how to get out.  With reports of high crime in Brazil, and fingers typically all pointed in the direction of the favelas you can get a little uncomfortable when sporting a big diamond on your own finger while trying to ask for directions.  The thing that makes me the most uncomfortable is that it is sort of stuck on there at the moment due to too much post wedding eating, with the realisation I had that your average thief is more likely to have a big knife on him rather than a container of hand soap.  I like my fingers.

Favela from above

Tourists on Top

Mention Brazil to anyone, and it's all about the hot chicks.  Brazilian have got a reputation as a seriously sexy nation.  Now I went beach time, we also went beachside strolling and driving, and I would have to offer a big "What's all the fuss?".  I'm sorry to question the beloved stereotype, but on average you'll get better lookers in Australia.  Sure there are a few good ones, but aren't there everywhere???  The really hot ones were mainly the tourists trying to keep up with the myth.  The majority of the population have been a bit too heavy handed on the dulce de leche.  The fatties are rampant, waddling all over the place stuffing oily food down their gullets.  It's true that on the beach it's all about the bums.  It's not often you see people giving themselves a wedgie by choice (my reaction would try to be be pull bathers out of crack instead of pull them further in).  But those bums are big.  Really big.  And it's not always a good thing to see.  Not according to Arnold Schwarzenegger though, who famously proclaimed "I can absolutely understand why Brazil is totally devoted to my favourite body part, the ass." Although after viewing the video, you can see he had some prime ones on hand (literally).  If anyone wants to see Arnie in action in Brazil see below video for a 1970s look at Rio with the big sleaze.   But the question remains for me - who wants it to be all about the "ass".  Unless it's a really good one.  But as I mentioned before it's not.  Myth shattered.

Less like this (The Miss Bum Bum Competition)

More like this......

Garcon!  More I say, MORE!

It's not surprising that your typical Brazilian women are packing it behind, and the men in front - large guts I'm talking here.  The food flows thick and fast.  Breakfasts consist of piles of pastries, Brazilian cheese bread (one of the tastiest things on the face of this earth), cheeses, meats, cakes, hot chocolate and really good coffee.  Lunch and dinner means one thing and one thing alone - Churrascarias.  Basically Brazilian steakhouses serving Rodízio, where waiters come around the tables with all kinds of incredible meats cooked and presented on large metal skewers or knives.  You turn the little round coaster in front of you over from red to green, and let the carnage commence!  The meat man comes on over, you take a little pair of tongs and grab those thinly sliced meats as the meat master slices them off his stash.  Sometimes 20 different types of beef cuts come knocking at the door, and you have to quickly flip over to red before you have to undo another button.  Who knew there were so many ways to enjoy your slaughtered beast?  Has anyone ever had "hump" before - it's quite something. Then usually after this, comes the slow roasted beef ribs on a big trolley, so you quickly flip that disk back over to all systems go.  Never say no to the ribs.   Big Jesus Christ.  This is some seriously incredible stuff here.  Let's just put it this way.  I haven't been following a vegan diet for quite some time.  This place is a personal insult to vegetarians.  Added into the mix are the most incredible buffets containing salads, cheeses, veggies, rice, sushi, breads, pasta etc.  Also deposited on your table are dishes of fried banana, beans, rice, cheese bread etc.  Then of course you have to wash it all down with a bottle of Brazilian red, after firstly downing a couple of caipirinhas.

Roast my pretties, roast....

All the many sorts of beast - notice the hump up top

I spent many a dehydrated sweaty night in Brazil.  It makes me feel sick just thinking about it.  And my own bum??? Well lets just say there's a reason why it's strictly above the waist photos from now on.....

That last piece of top sirloin is repeating on me......

The Spiders of Southern Brazil

There she blows - the most venomous spider out there - are those red fangs?

It's actually not a bad name for a band of you think about it.  It reminds me of the time when a co-worker and myself wanted to start a J-Pop band in Japan called The Snakes of Chiba after we spotted a snake on the road in which we lived - in Chiba prefecture.  It doesn't matter that I can't sing or play a musical instrument - it's all about the band name.  We even had a first track - Momiagi kakui ne - "Sideburns are cool - yeah?".....it would have gone platinum.  We also planned to kick off a sideburns craze and sell plastic ones you could attach on a whim, plus all other kinds of sideburn memorabilia.....if only.....

All kinds of awesomeness

Brazil is a big country.  There’s no doubt about that.  The interior just goes on for ages (I was tempted to use goes on for “yonks” – but remembered just in time how much I hate that word.  It’s up there with my most loathed greeting – “hiya”.  Whenever anyone says that to me I just want to reply "Fuckya").  Chalks was clocking up some serious miles – and me some serious dozing time.  Obviously I wasn’t the one driving.  I’m pretty useless on a road trip.  I’m more like decorative rather than functional.  I can't help it, I'm a hopeless and gutless driver.  Ask anyone I know, I suck.  Here, it’s the over-taking that freaks me out.  It’s like there’s a cross-national death-wish policy going on.  I refuse to be involved.

It was 3 days of driving to get from the Iguazu Falls to Rio de Janeiro.  We spent one night in a featureless hotel in a featureless town – the one saving grace of the establishment as that they gave us breakfast the next morning after the breakfast hours were finished.  However, it was chocolate cake (plus coffee for us).  I don’t think the girls have ever had chocolate cake for breakfast before.  It was quite the highlight of their lives.  I wish I’d known that before I’d flown them all over the world and taken them to Disneyland etc.  I could have just gone down to Banjo’s every morning and purchased a slab of cake for $2.29.  They would have been heaps happier, and we would have been heaps richer.  Oh well, you live and learn.

Post milking - Cordi seems unimpressed

The good news was that the next day we arrived at our destination before dark.  This was an extremely fortunate stroke of luck as otherwise we would have got completely lost.  The hotel where we were spending the next three nights was a sort of quasi-ranch located inside a giant gated fantasy farmland where rich people from Sao Paulo had unbelievable holiday mansions and could thus play farms on the weekends.  It was pretty impressive.  Prancing white stallions trotting about the place, a giant golf course, a helipad, a miniature farm for kids  - where the girls “milked” a cow,  (in reality they held a cup near the udder and screamed).  I use the term "farm" pretty loosely here.  I reality there was a couple of stinky sawdust filled pens, some manky looking peacocks, 4 bunnies crammed in a cage and a couple of roosters that wouldn't shut the fuck up.  To avoid disappointment about the lack of farm creatures, I hauled the girls over to a nearby paddock to look at some grotty sheep, and attempted to feed grass to a Shetland with a manic look in it's eye.  It's the same the world over.  Mini farms and zoos are the worst.  A particular low point for me was Safari World in Bangkok.  Here I saw a baby tiger in a portable wheel-a-cage as big as it's body, and a dolphin show where they made a dolphin wear a small red cowboy hat and go around the pool several times.  At least make it a fedora or something.  Cowboy hats are so early 2000s.

Some old crap-heap on the estate

same estate - another crap-heap

You have to actually touch it Valli

You're going nowhere on that Cordi

There was also a Kids Club on the property that hotel guests could also use.   Upon discovery, I felt the excitement pulse through my veins.  However, you couldn’t exactly drop kick them in the door and piss off to have sex and swims though.  It was parents on the job.  I guess the rich people would bring their nannies to step up to the plate.  Instead it was me who put on the costumes, helped set up the “café” and “supermarket” and pushed the little buggers on the swings for an hour.  I guess I have to actually do something sometimes – there’s only so far I can take this newly acquired decorative role I’ve comfortably slipped into.

Valli and her customers

Cordi goes shopping

Push me Mumma (Fuck OFF I will)

It photographs well

The hotel itself was stunning.  Possibly the nicest ever.   It was part of a hotel group called Fasano which actually started as a restaurant run by an Italian family 100 years ago.  Unfortunately it also has a hefty price tag to go with it – but this is more the case with the branches in Rio and Sao Paulo.  Staying in this one – located off a busy highway located 100km inland from Sao Paulo - was our only chance, because nobody came here.  So we took it.  And it really was quite the experience.  Everything was immaculate – but with a slightly odd edge.  I think it was because the place was huge, practically empty, over-staffed, and the majority of the staff spoke no English.  This gave it an overall slightly uncomfortable vibe whenever we had to talk to anyone – particularly at mealtimes.  Dining in the restaurant became an awkward experience.  The waiters smiled too much and wouldn't stop filling up our waters.  I swear I did about 15 pisses the first night.  The following night I just didn't sip my drink at all until just as we were leaving.  Even when a large chunk of potato became wedged in my oesophagus no water was had- I held strong and waited the choking sensation out.  I couldn't go back to those toilets again.  Not after what I saw.

At sunset.....noice......

IT was first spotted upon that initial night in the restaurant.  When I was off for my 11th wee in a row that was the moment when I first laid eyes on IT.  The embodiment of all my fears.   A terrifying sight to behold.  I talk of nothing less than a chunky jet-black spider the size of my hand.  It also had yellow markings on its thick, bulbous, hairy abdomen.   I started whimpering but  had to control myself because  I had Cordi with me and I don’t want the girls to become infected with fear - like I was by my own poor terrified mother, who I witnessed having absolute meltdowns on any encounters with our eight legged chums.  One day she actually leaped out of the car she was supposed to be driving and let her children roll down the street trapped within, and accompanied by a large huntsman on the steering wheel.

Yes, yes, very pretty

I already knew that by being in Brazil, I was trespassing on lands inhabited by such terrifying beasts, but I was taken unawares on this particular instance.  Naturally I refused to do anymore toilet trips and promptly wet my own pants.  I told you the water waiter was relentless with his top ups.   Apparently Chalks was later trying to encourage the spider to get on a napkin to take it outside.  I can’t even let my mind wander towards such horrors. When he stroked the giant brown tarantula’s leg in Costa Rica some years ago – I should have realised what I was dealing with.  That night I typed “Spiders of Southern Brazil”  into Google.  What a mistake that was.  What should be all over the first page but the multiple headlines from 2 months ago “It’s Raining Spiders in Southern Brazil”  “Spiders Falling From the Sky” etc etc.  After more research I determined that this chapter straight out of a trip to hell happened in a town 3 hours from here.  It’s not that far – have you seen how fast spiders can run?  They could cover that distance in a day.

Would you swim in there?  I just don't think I would

Now I knew that they were out there it became hard to relax.  Who knew what chair base was a nest?  What shoe was a hideaway?  And what hole in the ground a haven?  The spiders had entered my tranquil world, and I knew they wouldn’t leave until I touched back down in NYC and fumigated my belongings.  Did you know that the world’s most venomous spider resides here in Brazil.  And also the largest.  As big as a dinner plate.  Thank Jesus we weren’t headed for the Amazon.  Not this time anyway – we hadn’t had any vaccinations and I wasn’t up for a spot of yellow fever.  Does it actually turn you yellow?

This is the kind of thing that leaves lasting mental scars

All this spider talk makes me remember the actions of a particularly unpleasant person about 20 years ago.  And I feel free to name her as I know she would never read this.  Plus I don’t care and I want her to know that she traumatised me when I was too stoned to move.  Her name is Bec Scales.  And she was what you would call a peer pressurer.  The kind of person who made you have 8 buckets in a row to "catch up" if you happened to turn up to her house mid session on any given  evening.  Well this is what happened to me one unfortunate Tasmanian winter’s night before I had the good sense to learn how to say “No”  (Actually this took another 15 years – but whatevs I got there eventually……).  Following this assault on my lungs, Bec then proceeded to put on a documentary that has forever visited my nightmares.  It was on the giant dinner plate-sized spiders of the Amazon.  And it was just to fuck us all up.  I watched with horror at the spider hiding in it’s hole waiting for the python who came down for a look.  A fight broke out – the spider won and then paralysed the python and sucked out it’s insides.  There was close ups of the munching, and also the sound effects (it sounded like when they have the head-job scenes on Game of Thrones – are the sucking sounds necessary? – we all know what’s going on, the facial expressions suffice).  After eating the whole giant thing, the spider dragged the empty snake skin out of it’s hole and dumped it in the forest.  Then there were the scenes of the tribe that worshipped the spider.  They did rituals wearing spider hats and using spider poison as a hallucinogenic.  Then they stalked them in the jungle.  Finally they caught one and proceeded to eat it.

It was a terrified drive home in the dark.  I don’t know how many times I checked the sun visors.

Anyway, despite my anxious visits back to the toilets on subsequent mornings and evenings (armed with a camera this time)  I failed to see my furry little friend again.  I wasn’t sure if I felt better or worse.  It could have been loose anywhere else in the entire establishment.  And it could have had a family.  A large family.  As you can tell, I had a hard time getting over it.  What can I say here except I’m a big pussy when it comes to arachnids.  I’d do an anti spider-fear course, but I know that they end these things by making you handle them.  I’d rather stay in a world of natural mortal terror.

After 3 days of checking my shoes and shaking my clothes out thoroughly, it was time to go.  Off to Rio de Janeiro - where the caipirinhas are potent, the bikinis are up bums, and the samba never stops...

Iguazu Falls

You can't be cynical about this place - no matter how hard you try

It can't be denied - all nature is awe inspiring.  Perhaps more so if you've had piles of acid.  And who hasn't spent hours examining a pebble after even half a tab?...... - but there has been a hand full of instances where the sheer beauty of the world has brought me to my knees.  And the first sight of this waterfall was one of them.  Not literally though, it's pretty muddy around here, and the mud is that brownish red sort that doesn't match any of my outfits.

I am moved

Apparently these little shits give you rabies

Loving their new "pet"

I'd seen pictures in a travel book, I'd imagined coming here - but it seemed so out of our way.  Totally in the opposite direction of where we were headed.  Whenever we can't be fucked to do something, or just can't work out the logistic to get to a place....or are too tight (more the point) - we always offer the same lame excuse - you've got to save something for next time.  Initially this pissed me off when Chalks used to drop it all the time, but I've since found it useful to cover up my own slackness.  Spend all day in bed instead of going to the biggest festival in town on a perfect day?????  "Oh well, gotta save something for next time.....".  It's stupid really.  Whatever happened to "live in the moment" and "Carpe diem"????......gone the same way that protesting for the Tarkine and doing hair braids at various hippie festivals did I guess.  These days, if I can't do it sitting on my arse, I'm not interested.  This would explain a couple of things - #1 Why I waste a lot of opportunities, and #2 Why my butt is so big.

Road trip shot

Our decision to come here took us both by surprise.  We were headed south - perhaps destined for Florianópolis (we were unsure).  We drove out of the urban decay of São Paulo - it only took us 2 hours to clear the city limits - but at last we were on the road.  To be honest, we could have been in Australia.  Gum trees, rolling green hills reminiscent of the NSW end of the stretch of road between the Gold Coast and Byron Bay.  To be more honest, it was a pain.  There was a lot of road works, a lot of trucks and a lot of fucking around.  We made it to our pit stop late that night.  Curitiba - apparently a charming city, but we didn't really give it the time of day.  We decided that night to fuck off Florianópolis after seeing a few obnoxious resort type places online, and also finding out that any half decent hotels banned children under the age of 14.  Don't blame them, I would too.  But it did bring home the realisation that any hotel that allowed children must suck.  Look I know that resorts have their merits - e.g free babysitting from the kids clubs. people in uniforms kissing your arse.  But seriously, the rest of it just doesn't make up for that brief pleasure.  I'm putting it out there - I loathe family resorts.  With their buffet of slops, their five shitty pools, and other people's screaming brats.  Mine are bad enough, and I love them more than anything I could ever imagine.  I'd die for the little cunts and I still hate 'em.

Muffins

We hatched a cunning plan.  To drive inland - to Iguazu Falls - or should I say - Cataratas do Iguaçu. Perhaps I shouldn't - my Portuguese is completely unintelligible.  I only just realised I'd been saying the masculine form of thank you for days now, and even that was badly pronounced.  It would be like if some idiot went around saying the only English word they knew with a stupid grin on their face, and pronouncing it "Thunkoo".   Anyway, according to googlemaps it was 500 odd km from our current location.  So we scoffed at the bellboy when he suggested we had 10 hours of road to look forward to.  But the righteous prick was on the money.  It was indeed a long long day.  But perhaps not as terrifying as many Internet chicken-shits would have you believe.  Google search "driving in Brazil", and the common consensus is "DON'T".  Apparently you need to watch out for the world's most dangerous drivers, car jackers - that make it impossible to ever stop at a red light,  the military police sticking guns in your face unless you throw piles of cash at them, and roads so bad they are impossible to pass without 6 spare tyres, a tool kit and a friendly Brazilian mechanic on speed dial.  Unfortunately, I am the "believe everything I read type".  Chalky often laughs at my insistence that everything I have read online is true.  But it is - I saw with my own eyes the x-ray of the eel stuck up the Chinese man's arse - the one that chewed though the colon and had to be surgically removed.  That will teach him not to try and emulate porn in real life.  But then again, I thought all porn was real too.......

So after reading all the travel "advice" late at night from a bunch of gutless fear mongers, I became infected.  I actually cried, and accused Chalks of leading us into annihilation.  Luckily by morning, (and further Internet reading - shhhhhhh) - I'd come to my senses.  The road trip was back on.  And let me just say, that the southern interior of Brazil, has great roads, friendly people, no excess amount of cops, and the toilets in the service station are about 200 times cleaner than any in Europe.  Plus my imaginings of jungle, shanty towns and the odd python were way off.  What we saw were farming lands, large cities and no rubbish whatsoever strewn by the side of the highway.  I was actually disappointed.  Call me an environmental degrader, but I was trying for 150 km to find a stretch of highway I could throw some mango skins wrapped in a piece of newspaper.  There was nothing else to cushion the piff.  Not one solitary item that shouldn't be there.  I couldn't bring myself to be an littering oath.  I hate people like myself.  I couldn't sink to my own level.  Not to be the first to add human wastage to a pristine stretch of busy highway.  I held onto my filth until it leaked all over the floor and now our car will stink of fermented fruit forever.  I say "our" car, but it's not, so sucked in Hertz.

Not a bad spot for a hotel......

But by god we made it.  After a fair few service stations - one inspired by the ranch theme with cow heads all over the walls, a dozen saddles proudly displayed, various types of bovine skins all over the floor.  Anyway, chuck in some night driving through road works with maniac trucks belting straight for you, and we were here.  We were staying in the only hotel actually built in the National Park.  Although we initially thought it must have been an old plantation manor recently turned into a hotel, we were wrong - it was built as an hotel about 50 years ago and renovated a multitude of times ever since.  I have no idea how they managed to build a hotel so close to the waterfall.  But they did, and we were staying there, and it was glorious.  The next day it was absolutely pissing down, so we did what any self respecting slackers would do.  Stayed inside and watched Game of Thrones.  We've only just discovered it, and things are heating up between the Starks and The Lannisters, so who gives a shit about a massive series of waterfalls that border Brazil, Argentina and Paraguay.  I was almost disappointed when it stopped raining.  It meant I would have to do something.  Luckily we didn't have to walk far.  Stand at the door and it hits you in the face. Literally.  The spray wafts over the landscape, so that you feel like it is always spitting with a light shower.  It took us until this afternoon to work out it had been the spray all along.  The first glimpse of the falls was a seriously good moment.  A once in a lifetime kind of view.

It's been a long time since we saw the sun

The following day was blue skies.  I got my babies sunburnt for the first time ever (Gooooooo Emily) - and then that afternoon we all took an adventure trip by boat into the falls.  And I do mean into.  We had been told we would get wet.  I just underestimated the extent of it,  As the speedboat absolutely fanged it up the rapids - bouncing this way and that, Chalks and I exchanged glances of discomfort that perhaps we were leading our babies into an extreme circumstance.  Nobody had cautioned us against taking them though, so we assumed that all would be well.  Valli was already screeching with excitement, while Cordi had her face hidden in fear.  I'm sure my screaming when the captain drove us straight into the waterfall didn't help matters.  He drove it in three times - actually the last time he backed it in, and we were sitting at the back, so that was an experience not to be missed if you feel like taking the world's largest shower fully clothed.  I have never been so wet in my life.  The water was pounding us from above, and breaking over us like in waves from the sides.  The massive torrents, and the spray made it impossible to see anything.  Plus it was a noisy as hell.   It was fucking fantastic though.  For Valli, Chalks and myself.  I think Cordi has been traumatised for life.  As we sped away, she lay sobbing on the seat under a dry towel that Chalks had ingeniously wrapped in a plastic bag and brought along.  It was relief when she started talking again once we got off the boat.  She seems fine tonight and actually claims she is brave and happy that we went under the waterfall.  She didn't like seeing the video footage though.  I'm not surprised.

Heading up river

Dry and naively excited

Where are you bastards taking me?

Getting closer

Almost in

I forced Chalky to buy the footage that the adventure company took of us going under the waterfall.  I know those things are a rip off, but I watched the DVD after we dried off, and it really looked like we were having a great time.  This was opposed to the shaky movie Chalky made with our cheap camera inside a plastic bag.  I could hardly watch it.  Basically it was like this - Chalky yelling "We're going in the waterfall", me screaming bloody murder, Cordi howling her eyes out, with her head all wet, hair plastered to her face and lying on the boat's seat, and Valli going from excited joy to a bulging eyed look of fear, as a giant wall of water engulfed her.  It's the kind of footage people find after you die and say "Here was the Family Korman's last terrified moments on earth".  It was damning. I lay awake that night imagining the Today Tonight story to accompany the scary movie.....it began something like this:
"It was meant to be the trip of a lifetime, but excitement soon turned to horror when a boat capsized under the Iguazu Waterfalls in Brazil, tearing a family apart and sending two little girls to their deaths beneath the raging rapids....as the following footage will show you.....In the face of such disaster, many of us ask - how could the parents put their child's lives at risk in this way?".

My imagination is far too vivid, too dramatic, and much too gory......

Purple at sunset

So, we were going to drive on tomorrow, but we like it here, so we are staying another night.  The hotel is comfy, the people friendly and scene chilled.  Plus we have one of the most stunning views on the planet on our door step.  We watched the falls from a much more chilled vantage point at sunset tonight, after all the tourists had been booted out of the park for the night.  Amazing, beautiful, stunning, incredible.  All those sorts of adjectives.  Maybe we'll just move in permanently.

Pretty

More pretty

I'll never forget this view - Cordi much happier from above too

Orange glow

Magic