One security official and his ego
After a successful night of stealth camping, we left the village behind and headed for Encarnación. We needed to go there to get a Temporary Import Permit (TIP) for Ruby, as we were still technically driving around illegally. I had heard that the police in Paraguay could be somewhat strict, and there was a checkpoint just outside the village on the main road to the city. This particular point also came with several warnings from fellow travellers that the police here were out to make a quick buck. To avoid a potential headache, we opted to bypass it entirely.
I guess there was a good reason the checkpoint was situated where it was, as missing it meant a substantial detour. We drove down rough, bumpy dirt tracks — thankfully now dry. It took us at least half an hour to navigate around it, but on dry roads, it was far less stressful than dealing with difficult security officials. Ironically, our detour didn’t prevent us from having trouble with officials that day, but right then we were blissfully oblivious as we rejoined the open main road. Encarnación is only about a 40-minute drive away, so our plan was to stop, sort out our documents, and then drive an hour or so to the next decent camp.
We arrived in the city and drove until we ran out of road. As is often the case near border zones, it was pretty chaotic. Both sides of the street were lined with vendors selling street food and cheap clothes. I drove down slowly, searching for somewhere to pull in and finding nowhere. When I reached the end where the barriers were, I spotted a car park across the road. This was where cars were entering from Argentina, but that was precisely where we needed to be. I turned across the road and headed for it, only to be brought up short by a furious uniformed guard with a whistle. Apparently, this was a borderline terrorist offence. He stopped me mid-turn, shouting at me to go away, park somewhere else, and then come back to talk to him.
Lee got out to guide me back, but failed to mention that there was a large metal barricade directly behind us. I assumed that since he was standing there, he’d give me a shout if there was an obstacle. So, I reversed and hit it—much to the amusement of the entire street and the absolute rage of the border official. He shouted at me; I shouted at Lee. I felt Lee should have warned me it was there, while he thought I should have seen it in the mirrors. We were still arguing as I drove further back down the road to park at the curbside.
We walked back to the border official, who was practically seething. He was extraordinarily rude, asking what on earth I thought I was doing, stopping in the middle of a busy road—even though he was the one who had halted me. He threw his hands in the air and asked why I hadn’t just parked, gesturing vaguely at a street teeming with vendors, handcarts, and zero parking spaces. I was getting thoroughly annoyed by this point. I explained I was trying to get to the car park, but he looked at me as if I were a complete idiot and told me I couldn't park there—as if I was magically supposed to know that. He then declared that I shouldn’t be allowed to drive a vehicle if I was so incapable, before demanding I pay him for the traffic cone I had supposedly damaged. The offending cone sat in the middle of the road, looking a little rumpled but upright . I apologised for his cone (which I’m fairly certain I hadn't even touched), which calmed him down slightly. I felt it was a bit rich; I’d like to see anyone stay calm while being yelled at by multiple people while reversing a panel van with no rear-view mirror.
He then asked where we were heading later. We couldn’t remember the exact name of the town—Carmen del Playa? Del Paraná? He shook his head incredulously. How could we possibly not know where we were going? What kind of idiots were we?
Next, he asked what we wanted. We explained we needed a TIP for the van, to which he announced that we were in the country illegally. We tried to explain that the previous border crossing had no means of issuing vehicle permits, but he insisted we were wrong and that all borders provide them. He told us we couldn’t get a document here and that this was a major problem. At this point, it became clear he wasn't interested in listening to a word we said. In the end, it didn’t really matter—it had nothing to do with him anyway. He wasn’t immigration or customs (Aduana); he was just roadside security on a power trip. We stopped trying to explain and stopped arguing, simply nodding along until he finally gestured toward the main building and told us to go inside—adding that we had to report back to him afterwards. I thoroughly wished we’d never spoken to him in the first place.
We headed over to the Aduana office. After asking around for a minute, we spoke to a friendly officer who called over the right person. We explained our situation, and he waved us inside the shipping container office, telling us it was absolutely no problem at all. He filled out the paperwork for us on the spot while chatting about travel and how he hoped to go on his own big adventure one day. In less than ten minutes, we had our official document signed and sealed.
We had zero intention of reporting back to the security guard. I certainly wasn't giving him any money for a hypothetical cone accident, and despite the slight temptation to wave my new vehicle permit in his face, it wasn’t worth the hassle. We walked slowly past him on the opposite side of the road, waiting for the whistle. Sure enough, we heard him screeching after us. We ignored him completely, melting into the crowds milling between market stalls selling socks. Back at Ruby, I threw the keys at Lee and made him drive, still blaming him for the barricade incident.
With the paperwork sorted, I tried to put the unpleasant hour behind us. We drove on towards our actual destination, Carmen del Paraná, to inspect potential camp spots. The afternoon had turned overcast, and rain was forecast for later. We checked the town's only campsite; it was closed, though available on request. The price wasn't bad, but it was partially flooded and too close to the main road. We carried on to look at the free options, eventually pulling over in a sandy layby along Playa Tacuary. It was near the main road, but situated right by a speed bump in a built-up area, meaning passing traffic was going slowly. Traffic was sparse anyway, and being right on the banks of the Río Paraná, we decided it would do nicely.
The afternoon may have been cloudy, but it was warm. I went for a lovely swim in the river while the cats explored the shore. We had made our way along the southern edge of the country and were now only about four hours away from Stefan’s place in Melgarejo. It was the 11th of April — three days until Lee’s birthday. We planned to stop off for one more night to break up the journey north, although options were limited. That evening, storm clouds brewed over the river.
Lexi decided this was the ideal moment to wander further than she ever had before, trotting along the roofs of little closed-up beach shacks around 400 metres from the van. Every time I got close, she darted under a building, clearly in no mood to come inside. Meanwhile, lightning started streaking across the sky, and heavy raindrops began to spot the ground. As always in this part of the world, these storms go from zero to a hundred in seconds. I ran around in the dark with a tube of Churu treat, trying to coax her back while Lee cooked dinner. I finally managed to scoop her up just in time. The heavens opened, the road flooded, and lightning cracked all around us.
It was a noisy night as the storm raged on into the morning. Our layby was basically underwater, making us very glad we hadn't ventured down any dirt tracks off the main road. Over morning coffee, we decided to skip the planned overnight stop (which was probably inaccessible in this deluge anyway) and head straight to Stefan’s. Our leisure batteries would be running low if we didn't drive to charge them, and sitting in a flooded layby in the pouring rain wasn't much fun. It was time to go say hi to our friends and enjoy a proper hot shower.
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