Cross-Border Family Adventure: Exploring the Iguazu Falls from Paraguay

Ciudad del Este isn't winning any beauty contests. This Paraguayan border city thrums with commercial energy—a sprawling, somewhat chaotic marketplace where electronics, perfumes, and knockoff designer goods flow across borders with varying degrees of documentation. But beneath this frenetic surface lies an ideal launching point for Iguazu adventures.

We chose the Hotel Casino Acaray as our base, a decision that satisfied both my lifelong gaming hobby and our need for comfortable accommodations. The hotel sits alongside the Paraná River, offering surprising tranquility given its proximity to the bustling city center. The rooms are spacious enough for families, with reliable air conditioning—a necessity in Paraguay's humid spring climate.

After settling in, we ventured into the city's commercial district, not to shop (though the prices tempt even the most disciplined budgets) but to observe the fascinating trilingual dance of commerce. Guaraní, Spanish, and Portuguese blend in musical cadence as vendors and customers haggle. For dinner, we discovered Bolsi Restaurant, where traditional Paraguayan dishes like surubí (river fish) and sopa paraguaya (a dense cornbread) provided our first taste of local cuisine.

That evening, I indulged in a few hours at the hotel's casino while the younger members of our group explored the hotel pool. The gaming floor wasn't Vegas-caliber, but it offered enough blackjack and poker tables to keep this mystery novelist entertained while imagining characters for my next book.

There's something deeply symbolic about crossing the Friendship Bridge (Puente de la Amistad) that connects Paraguay to Brazil. Built in 1965, this 552-meter concrete structure spans the Paraná River and serves as both physical connection and metaphorical gateway between nations.

Crossing with family requires patience and preparation. Immigration lines can stretch interminably, especially during peak tourist seasons. We arrived early, around 8 AM, armed with our passports, hotel reservation printouts, and completed immigration forms. Even so, the process took nearly two hours.

The bridge itself teems with pedestrians, motorcycles weaving dangerously between lanes, and vendors selling everything from bottled water to questionable souvenirs. My wife's executive-level organizational skills proved invaluable as she shepherded our group through the bureaucratic maze while I entertained everyone with improvised stories about our fellow travelers.

Once across, Foz do Iguaçu presents a stark contrast to Ciudad del Este—more orderly, more tourist-oriented, and significantly more expensive. We hired a local guide recommended by our hotel, which I'd arranged through a travel planning notebook that's accompanied me on adventures across four continents. Having a Portuguese speaker navigate the Brazilian side saved countless headaches and provided cultural insights no guidebook could offer.

Our guide, Paulo, immediately suggested we adjust our itinerary to visit the falls the following day rather than immediately. "Tuesday is quieter," he insisted. "Monday brings weekend holdovers." This local knowledge proved invaluable—travel flexibility remains the greatest luxury, especially when crossing international borders with family in tow.

"You'll want to protect your camera," Paulo warned as we approached the falls on the Brazilian side. "The mist has claimed many electronics over the years." I nodded, adjusting my waterproof camera bag that has survived downpours from Chennai to Cape Town.

The Brazilian approach to Iguazu Falls (or Cataratas do Iguaçu as they're known locally) offers the panoramic perspective—a series of walkways that provide progressively more impressive views of the 275 individual drops that constitute this natural wonder. The anticipation builds with each step, the roar of water growing from background noise to all-encompassing thunder.

What struck me most wasn't just the falls themselves, though their power is undeniable. It was watching the expressions on our family members' faces as they experienced this marvel for the first time. My brother-in-law, typically stoic and reserved, stood slack-jawed at the Devil's Throat overlook, the spray painting his glasses with tiny rainbows.

The Brazilian side requires about half a day to explore properly. We took the elevator up to the panoramic lookout point, then down again to board a boat that brought us unsettlingly close to the base of the falls. The Macuco Safari boat ride isn't for the faint of heart—or those precious about staying dry. Despite wearing the provided ponchos, we were drenched within minutes, laughing like children as the boat captain navigated perilously close to the thundering water.

Lunch at the park's Porto Canoas restaurant offered surprising quality for a tourist destination, with traditional Brazilian dishes and cold caipirinhas to celebrate our soaking. As we dried in the spring sunshine, colorful butterflies and inquisitive coatis (raccoon-like creatures) provided entertainment, though we heeded warnings not to feed the wildlife.

While the Brazilian and Argentine sides of Iguazu Falls draw millions annually, few travelers venture to nearby Saltos del Monday, Paraguay's own impressive waterfall system just 8 kilometers from Ciudad del Este. After experiencing the grandeur of Iguazu, we almost skipped this lesser-known attraction—which would have been a tremendous mistake.

Saltos del Monday may be smaller (about 40 meters high compared to Iguazu's 82 meters), but what it lacks in size it compensates for with tranquility and accessibility. We arrived mid-afternoon to find fewer than twenty other visitors exploring the network of trails and viewing platforms. The entrance fee was modest (approximately $5 USD per person), and parking was free and plentiful.

The falls cascade through dense Atlantic Forest, with wooden walkways offering multiple vantage points. For the adventurous, a steep staircase descends to the base of the falls where the thundering water creates a perpetual mist. My knees reminded me of my sixty-one years on this planet during the climb back up, but the perspective from below was worth every protesting joint.

What made this excursion particularly special was the impromptu cultural exchange that occurred at the park's small café. The Paraguayan family at the next table noticed us consulting our South America travel guide and struck up a conversation. Despite language barriers—their limited English meeting my rudimentary Spanish—we shared a memorable hour exchanging travel stories and family photographs. Their teenage son practiced English while helping translate, and they insisted we try their homemade chipa (cheese bread), refusing payment but accepting our sincere gratitude.

These unplanned connections often become the most treasured travel memories, far outlasting the photographs of even the most spectacular waterfalls. As a novelist, I collect these human interactions like precious gems, each one potentially inspiring characters in future stories.

As someone who's written twenty mystery novels, I've always been fascinated by how cities transform after dark. The Triple Frontier region—where Paraguay, Brazil, and Argentina meet—offers a particularly intriguing nocturnal personality split.

In Ciudad del Este, we discovered that most tourist-oriented businesses close surprisingly early, but local life continues in neighborhood choperías (beer halls) where Paraguayan polka provides the soundtrack to evening conversations. Hotel Casino Acaray offered reliable nighttime entertainment, with live music on weekends and the gaming floor active until the early morning hours. I'll admit to spending more than one evening testing my poker skills against locals and Brazilian visitors.

Crossing to Foz do Iguaçu for evening activities requires advance planning, as border crossings become more complicated after dark. We arranged a private transfer service through our hotel that handled the logistics, allowing us to enjoy Brazilian churrascarias (barbecue restaurants) without worrying about transportation back.

The highlight of our evening explorations was undoubtedly Rafain Churrascaria's dinner show in Foz do Iguaçu. While admittedly touristy, the performance showcasing traditional dances from Brazil, Paraguay, Argentina, and other South American countries provided context to the cultural influences we'd been experiencing. The all-you-can-eat grilled meats satisfied even the heartiest appetites in our group, while the open bar kept spirits high.

For a more authentic experience, we ventured to Bar do Alemão in downtown Foz, where university students and locals gather for cold beer and heated political discussions. My decades living abroad have taught me that local bars often provide more insight into a country's current situation than any guided tour. Here, with the help of our guide Paulo translating, we engaged in fascinating conversations about border economics, environmental conservation, and the impact of tourism on local communities.

The contrast between Paraguay's more reserved nightlife and Brazil's exuberant evening culture creates a fascinating border dynamic that reveals much about both national characters.

Travel has always been my most effective laboratory for observing human behavior—a novelist's field research. This cross-border adventure proved particularly revealing about how family relationships adapt to unfamiliar circumstances.

Our group consisted of three distinct family units: my brother-in-law's traditional nuclear family with teenage children; my old friend Jim's blended family including stepchildren; and myself, traveling solo but embraced as honorary uncle to all. What fascinated me was watching how quickly the children formed their own micro-community despite age differences and having met only days earlier.

The teenagers appointed themselves translators and cultural interpreters, their smartphone-enabled research and fearless approach to language barriers putting our adult hesitations to shame. They navigated the chaotic Ciudad del Este markets with confidence, haggling in improvised Spanglish while we adults hung back, amused and slightly intimidated.

Parenting styles revealed themselves in stark relief against unfamiliar backdrops. My brother-in-law, normally strict about screen time, relaxed his rules when his daughter's quick Google searches repeatedly saved us from tourist pitfalls. Jim's typically reserved stepson blossomed when given responsibility for documenting our journey with a travel camera I'd brought as a backup.

Meals became our daily parliament—a time to negotiate the day's victories and compromises. We established a rotation system for restaurant selection, giving each family member (regardless of age) authority to choose one dinner venue. This simple democratic approach averted the typical mealtime debates and resulted in culinary adventures we might otherwise have missed, including a memorable Paraguayan asado (barbecue) at a roadside stand none of the adults would have selected.

By week's end, these improvised family systems had created a temporary culture of our own—a blend of our American backgrounds and the Paraguayan-Brazilian influences surrounding us. The children exchanged social media details with promises of future reunions, while we adults acknowledged that traveling together had revealed strengths in our relationships that might have remained undiscovered at home.