The trip to the Paraná Delta starts rough — an hour on your feet, packed into a cramped, jolty, far-too-hot train; another hour gathering up the food and bug spray you can’t leave the mainland without; then the hunt, giant jugs of water in hand, for a little lancha to carry you into the Delta. But here’s just one of the many magical things about a lavishly long summer weekend spent on an island where the Paraná meets the Rio de la Plata: You get off the boat, and none of it ever happened. Because you’re on another planet. One where rivers have taken the place of roads and boats cars, where your nearest neighbor is just beyond shouting distance, where at times it’s hard to hear over the birdsong. Nothing could connect this place to the sweltering megalopolis you’ve finally managed to escape. You’ve got no steps to retrace — and you’ve never entertained a happier thought. Click play above, check out the pictures below. You’ll see what I mean.