Poor Monday

Paraguay was eight minutes away for four years. Getting there took a three-day drive and a dog who never once offered to take the wheel.

The country across the bridge

Four years of "next time" finally turned into this time. Alongside my fluff-muppet of a road-trip buddy, Magnus, I drove to Paraguay on a whim.

Paraguay (Paraguái in Guaraní, the country's other official language) has evaded me ever since our honeymoon and first trip to Argentina. That's Jay's honeymoon and mine, not Magnus's. He's single, friends. Just saying.

Trip after trip, it sat just across the bridge at the Triple Frontier, where Brazil, Argentina and Paraguay meet: a landlocked country, taunting me from the far bank. Not this time.

Three days, two sleep stops, countless puppy treats

We pushed for three days from São Paulo, with two no-frills sleep stops and countless puppy treats, before rolling back into Foz do Iguaçu.

First stop: a tiny vegan bakery, for me. Then Magnus trotted off to a local creche (doggy daycare) to charm a pair of pocket-sized pups. He did not look back. I chose not to take it personally. He was staying in Brazil on paperwork grounds: we were moving soon, and a Paraguay entry on his documents was one complication the move did not need.

Eight silly minutes

While Magnus networked, I walked the silly eight minutes across the Friendship Bridge into Ciudad del Este. Motorbikes buzzed past. Markets spilled onto the sidewalks. Shoppers balanced towers of duty-free bags. Murals of tropical birds on the Paraguayan side echoed the ones on the Brazilian side, as if the two countries had agreed on a mascot and never told anyone.

When the noise of the city got to me, I hopped in an Uber to Saltos del Monday, Iguazú Falls' underrated cousin. The elevator creaked on the way down. The mist clung to my face. The waterfall thundered like it had something to prove. I had a major attraction entirely to myself.

Poor Monday

Somewhere between the spray and the border, I thought of the line everyone attributes to Eleanor Roosevelt at Iguazú: "Poor Niagara!" The quote is everywhere and its source is nowhere; the people who repeat it tend to add "reportedly." In that same spirit, and with equally thin evidence, I would like to propose the Paraguayan sequel: poor Monday. Criminally overlooked.

The staircase under both waterfalls

Iguazú and Monday are about 30 kilometers apart, and they are standing on the same rock.

In the Early Cretaceous, which is to say while dinosaurs were still very much in charge, enormous volcanic eruptions flooded this part of South America with lava, flow after flow, until the basalt stacked up into a plateau roughly a kilometer thick. The flows cooled in layers, and the layers behave like steps. At Iguazú, UNESCO describes the river dropping about 80 meters over a basalt edge almost three kilometers wide.

Geologists who have studied the falls think they did not start where they are now. The Paraná, the big river, cut down into the basalt faster than the Iguazú could, leaving a drop of roughly 70 to 80 meters where the two rivers met. That step is where the falls began. Ever since, the water has been undercutting the rock at the base until the ledge above collapses, which moves the falls a little further upstream. Over one and a half to two million years, at a centimeter or two a year, Iguazú has chewed its way about 21 kilometers back from the Paraná.

Monday looks like the same story with fewer tourists. Its three main falls drop about 40 meters off basalt walls, across a front roughly 120 meters wide, just before the Monday River runs into the Paraná. The Monday chapter has not had the same scholarly attention as Iguazú, but every ingredient is there: the basalt steps, the smaller river, the big one cutting deeper next door.

The dinosaur park, with apologies to Magnus

After a sparkling-water toast to my new stamp in the mental passport, I crossed back into Brazil, past the flags on the river, and picked up my furry bestie.

We celebrated at Vale dos Dinossauros, the dinosaur park in Foz. Magnus was terrified of the sound effects, and then a flock of peacocks chased him inside. In fairness to him, the rock under the waterfall I had just visited was laid down when the real ones were around. He was afraid of the right era.

If you go

• The bridge. The Friendship Bridge (Puente de la Amistad, or Ponte da Amizade from the Brazilian side) is about 552 meters long and walkable. It is also one of the busiest crossings in the region, carrying around 100,000 people and 45,000 vehicles a day by the Brazilian government's count. Weekday traffic crawls; Sundays tend to move. Walking is often faster than driving. Carry your passport.
• Getting to Monday. The falls are in Presidente Franco, about 10 kilometers from Ciudad del Este. A rideshare from the city is the easy way.
• The elevator. A panoramic elevator drops about 40 meters to a platform near the base of the falls. Go down. That is where the thundering happens.
• The other view. Parque Aventura Monday, a private park next door, has viewpoints across the gorge, plus zip lines and a ropes course if standing still is not your thing.
• Hours. Published opening hours disagree with each other. Check the park's current hours before you go.
• Driving. A second bridge, the Integration Bridge, opened to traffic in December 2025 between Foz do Iguaçu and Presidente Franco, closer to the falls than the Friendship Bridge.
• The dog. Magnus stayed on the Brazilian side at a doggy daycare in Foz while I crossed. We were moving countries soon, and a new entry on his paperwork was a complication we did not need. If your pet's papers have to stay clean for something bigger, a day at daycare is the simpler option.
• The stamp. I came back without one, and I did not ask. Frequent travelers burn through passport pages, and renewing gets expensive. If you are heading beyond the border area, check Paraguay's entry rules before you cross.

Paraguay, checked off

On the long push home, Magnus never once offered to drive (rude), yet he was the best company on the planet.

Four years of "next time," undone by an eight-minute walk. Most of the places I keep postponing are probably closer than that.