Paraguay's Jesuit Ruins
After only a brief week in Argentina, we headed for the border again. This time, we were taking the tiny ferry from the crossing in town. We drove down a muddy track to reach the crossing after days of rain, handed our papers in, and bought a ferry ticket. It didn’t feel like we were about to cross an international border at all. The tiny ferry only fitted a few cars, and it turned out we had timed it perfectly to snag the last spot. We drove on and were underway immediately.
It’s only a very short crossing to reach the other side of the Río Paraná, and soon we were driving off into Paraguay. Everyone at immigration was very interested in us — I think we were definitely the most exciting thing that had happened all week, if not all month. We chatted a bit, completed our personal immigration paperwork, and then hit a brick wall with the vehicle documents. Despite having a shipping container office explicitly labeled "Aduana", apparently no one there could process the vehicle paperwork. The officer told us we’d have to drive all the way to Encarnación (the city opposite Posadas) to get our Temporary Import Permit (TIP) document. There wasn’t much we could do about it right then, so we shrugged and carried on.
We stopped off to grab a few bits from a shop and then decided to head to a nice-sounding spot by the river. I always feel like I need a day to get my head around a border crossing, even if it’s a country I’ve visited before. It sounded like a great setup: directly on the banks of the river with tables, barbecues, and electricity. On the weekends you had to pay, but during the week it was free, and we do love a freebie. We popped the location into Google and set off.
Google decided to take us on one of its famous "shortcuts". Instead of driving down the main road a little further and taking one simple left turn, Google decided we should zigzag across fields and rivers. It wouldn’t have been too bad if it hadn’t just rained for days, but these back roads were narrow, hilly, and caked in mud. With every section we slipped through, I dreaded the next, inevitably worse part. True to form, the climax came just before the main road. After creeping down muddy hills and steering around huge, bottomless puddles, the ground leveled out where a bridge crossed the river. Large muddy ruts chewed up every inch of the road that wasn’t completely underwater. There was no good line to take, so I put my foot down and hoped momentum would carry us through. We skidded through sideways—rear traction totally gone—and hit solid ground on the other side just in time. We rejoined the lovely, tarmac main road with the entire undercarriage dripping and covered in thick sludge. When we tried to open the door upon arriving at our new spot, the runner was jammed solid with mud. Lovely.
Aside from the mud bath, the spot itself was fantastic. We camped just behind a small dirt track on the riverbank. On the other side stood some palapas, grills, and picnic benches, along with an electrical socket. We set up our hammocks and sat swinging in the breeze, looking out over the river back towards Argentina. We were definitely staying here for two days.
Since we finally had nice weather and a bit of downtime, I took on one of Ruby’s side projects the following day: repairing the quarter-light catch. After some drilling, Dremeling, and riveting, I managed to bodge it back together. This was a relief because, firstly, we could actually lock the door without someone being able to reach in and open it, and secondly, it kept the rain out. Next, I tackled the sliding window, which also wasn't lockable. Previously, Ruby had been easily accessible from either side regardless of whether we locked the cab. The sliding window track had worn down so that the latch no longer engaged. I fixed this side by gluing a plastic strip into the bottom of the channeling to raise the glass as it slid down, allowing the catch to engage with the runner again. A full day's work, but two free repairs meant Ruby was secure again, which I was pretty chuffed about!
Now just the door to fix...
The weather had cleared up and was predicted to stay dry for a couple of days before the rains set in again. To make the most of it, we packed up and headed out to visit the famous Jesuit ruins. On the way to the first site, we stopped at a local welder to ask about repairing Ruby’s sliding door runner. He was happy to do it and had a great reputation—in fact, our friends Christine and Horst had had a lot of bodywork done on their van there previously. The problem was that it was now Friday, and with Lee’s birthday coming up in a couple of days, we didn’t want to get bogged down at a workshop for the two days he estimated it would take.
For now, we left the door as it was and continued driving until we reached the ruins of Jesús de Tavarangue. We parked in the shade of a tree and bought our tickets—around £10 for both of us. At the entrance, we downloaded a free English audio guide and walked around the mission. Dating back to the 17th century, this mission is a dedicated UNESCO World Heritage site. It was established by Jesuit priests with the goal of converting the local indigenous population to Christianity and protecting them from the forced labor system of Spanish colonists.
The church here was never fully completed because the Jesuits were expelled from the region, but it would have been one of the largest churches of its era. Much of the intricate stone carving remains remarkably well-preserved. We walked through the church, the school, and the kitchens, trying to picture what life was like back then. Today, it stands as a peaceful ruin overlooking a flat, picturesque vista.
It’s not a massive site, so after about an hour we had completed the audio tour and headed back to the car. We wanted to visit the second main site at Trinidad later in the day, so in the meantime, we decided to try something different: a tour of a nearby yerba mate factory.
(A quick note to readers: whenever you see the word "mate" in the upcoming paragraphs, remember to pronounce it "mah-tay", not "mate". It refers to the regional herbal tea, not your local pub buddy, despite the identical spelling!)
In our usual unplanned fashion, by the time I got around to checking tour times, I realised there were only two specific slots per day, and we were set to miss the last one by about five minutes. We decided to head over anyway, as there was reportedly a nice little café where you could sample mate-flavoured treats and try free mate. Once again, we found a shady spot to park and walked up to the main gates. Since it’s a working factory, we signed in with a very friendly security guard who pointed us toward the café.
Inside, another cheerful staff member asked if we wanted to take the tour or just order a drink. When I mentioned that I thought we’d missed the final tour, she explained that their online booking system wasn’t working properly, so even though we were late, we could have our own private tour right then! It cost about £10 for both of us and lasted around an hour and a half. We were assigned a tour guide and given hard hats. The tour was entirely in Spanish, but since it was just the two of us, it was easy to keep up and ask questions along the way.
This particular factory belongs to Selecta. While the brand was officially established in the 1950s, production began earlier when German immigrant Mr. Reinaldo Brönstrup and his wife, Mrs. Malvina Bohn, purchased land containing an existing mate plantation to learn the craft. The couple spent eight years mastering the cultivation and processing of this iconic drink before founding the company.
Our guide showed us the original machinery used when production first started and explained the whole process: how the branches are harvested, dried, and ground. They are flash-dried early on to prevent oxidation and maintain the green color of the leaves.
After a thorough explanation of the processing, we walked over to the adjacent plantation (past cute foals), where she explained how the plants are cultivated.
Surprisingly, yerba mate is tricky to grow because seeds naturally dropped on the ground struggle to germinate. They germinate far better after passing through the digestive tract of birds, which softens the tough outer shell. She gestured to large trestle tables behind us where workers manually germinate seeds before transplanting them near mature trees. In addition to its tricky germination, the plant demands very specific soil, sunlight, and climatic conditions, making South America the only region in the world where it thrives. Today, Selecta is one of Paraguay’s largest exporters, shipping worldwide across Europe, Asia, and North America.
Next, we visited the primary factory buildings. We poked our heads into the processing plant, where massive industrial mills grind and dry the herb before it is transferred into the packaging room. That room was buzzing with activity, with workers operating assembly lines dedicated to various flavors and packaging formats for export markets. It was an impressively large operation.
Our final stop was the dedicated laboratory. Inside this modern facility, spotless stainless steel counters and specialized equipment are used to test nutrient levels, monitor quality control, and develop new flavor profiles.
That concluded our private tour, and we were led back to the café, where we were shown how to use the self-serve mate bar and given a menu of homemade food items. We sampled chipas (traditional baked cheese rolls) as well as regular bread infused with yerba mate. For dessert, we ordered mate ice cream and waffles. I can’t say I picked up a strong tea flavor in the food, but everything was delicious and dirt cheap.
With the sun sinking behind the plantation, we headed back to the van and drove over to Trinidad to see the second set of ruins. By the time we arrived, we had about an hour of daylight left to explore under the warm, golden glow of the setting sun.
The ruins of Trinidad are similar to Jesús de Tavarangue, though slightly larger and better preserved. There was no audio guide here, so we simply wandered through the grounds at our own pace. We even spotted several owls nesting in the stone walls, which absolutely made my day!
Afterward, we sat outside the van in our camp chairs, waiting for nightfall. The site guard had mentioned that a light show would start at 7:30 pm. Before long, someone called us over to join the start of the tour. We weren’t entirely sure what to expect—just that there was some kind of night event, which sounded cool.
The light show was spectacular. Strategic spotlights lit up the entire complex, highlighting intricate rock carvings, grand archways, and ancient walls. Smaller lights scattered across the central courtyard looked like fallen stars, while atmospheric music played through hidden speakers.
Accompanied by a guide and a guard to keep everyone together, our small group walked through the grounds once more while learning about the site's history. Though brief (around 30 minutes), experiencing the ruins illuminated at night with ambient music was well worth coming back for.
By the time it wrapped up, we were starving. This had easily been one of my favorite days of travel in a long time. We’d explored rich history, learned about Paraguay’s cultural staple drink, eaten great local food, walked around stunning daytime ruins, and finished with an evening light display. There was only one thing left to do: find a spot to sleep and get some dinner.
Earlier, we had spotted a large grassy lot by the road back in the village of Hohenau. A few trucks were parked there, and it looked like a fine place to pull up for the night. First, though, we wanted to sample the pizzas at a popular local spot called Beer Kingo, along with a cold beer or two.
We parked outside and went in. The ordering process is unique: you order and pay at a small window beforehand. If you order a drink, you’re given a token to redeem at the bar; for food, you fill out a paper order slip. There are no traditional menus. We started with two beers, and when I asked the bartender what a "caipi chop" was, he kindly poured me a sample on the house. It’s a mix of a caipirinha cocktail and draft beer—which sounds bizarre, but was surprisingly refreshing (think lager with a generous splash of fresh lime).
After relaxing with our drinks, we decided to build a pizza to share. Next to the counter, an A-frame board held rows of leaflets resembling lottery tickets. You grab a pizza ticket and tick your preferred crust, base, and toppings. Some travelers on iOverlander had complained about the system being confusing, but we actually thought it was great. Since it was fully custom, we opted for half-and-half, giving me the rare chance to put pineapple on my side. Today really was turning out to be top-tier!
Full and sleepy, we pulled into the grassy lot for the night, parking as discreetly as possible between two parked lorries. It was set far enough back from the main road to be reasonably quiet—certainly quieter than sleeping at a petrol station. We fell asleep completely content, feeling like we’d had a proper day of travel adventure.
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