When we reached the elegant Hotel Tropical das Cataratas early one Saturday afternoon last fall, its charming pink facade was shrouded in a thick, soupy fog. More sensible travelers might have settled into the leather sofas in front of the Belvedere Room fireplace and waited out the weather with a tumbler of Scotch. I have to admit that was tempting.
But my two friends and I were on a very tight schedule; we had a long weekend, less than 80 hours, in South America. We couldn't let bad weather stop us.
We scrambled across the road to the edge of a cliff high above the Rio Iguaçu, squinted into the misty curtain and prepared to be dazzled, like the first European explorers in 1541, by the majesty of Iguaçu Falls.
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