And now the news…

The 3.30am alarm interrupts our fitful slumber and desperately trying to get it together, we shower, dress and prepare for today's travel. Go into the lounge and put the telly on for some noise while I do my exercises to try and loosen me up for today's flight to Peru…

"And the headlines again, A state of emergency has been called in Peru where an earthquake measuring 7.9 on the rhicktor scale has devastated the region. And now the weather" …

…"A state of emergency…"

…"An earthquake…"

…"In Peru."

…Peru!

OK so lets think about this. It is 4.15 a.m. We have 2 fully paid for- non-refundable tickets to Peru at the approximate cost of loads. Everything is in place - apart from the floor in south Peru which, by all accounts keeps moving. The taxi to take us to the airport is due in 45 minutes. Everyone else will be asleep here in the UK - and no one is answering the phone in Peru. We have half an hour to decide whether to stay in the UK or go to an international disaster area.

Umm.

So we get to the airport more than a little nervous and ask at the desk what the latest about the earthquake is. The girl's Neanderthal frown tells us that certainly no one here would be much use. On the toss of a mental coin we opted to screw it all and just go.

An hour after leaving Newcastle's watery summer predawn light, we landed in Amsterdam's balmy morning, with hares playing and boxing next to the runway. We headed into the complex maze that is Amsterdam airport to look for some information points and to ring our parents before they see the news and have kittens! It took fully half an hour for us to suss out the bloody 'clever' phones in the airport. My only consolation was that no-body else seemed to be able to use them either! Regardless, messages were relayed and we resumed our trip to South America. If there's anything left of it that is!

Soon enough we were sat on Flight 0741 in seats 37A and B for the next 9 hours of our flight to the Americas. The flight itself was unremarkable except for the almost crippling back pain that accompanied me all the way - even to the point of making me ask the stewards for a place to lie down! The descent over the Caribbean Islands was beautiful and exotic and by and by, we stepped out into the breath-taking heat of the Venezuelan afternoon at Aruba airport. The chance to stretch my legs was heaven sent and I managed to spend most of the hour or so her either doing exercises or lying flat on the floor!

The next three and a half hours were a little more bearable and eventually we found ourselves cruising over the Andean mountains. We descended towards Lima while the sun's setting rays turned the Andean foothills a stunning terracotta red, eventually fading into the nights shadows. Nearing the capital the clear skies beneath us ended abruptly - washing ashore a beach of cloud and smog that pervades over the city between May and November. We were almost there! As we landed we saw millions of camp fires, marking the shanty districts of the city, whizzing beneath us as we reached journeys end. To a resounding round of applause! - and then I KNEW that I was back! - Only Peruvians applaud when the plane lands - (isn't that just great?!)

Having negotiated Baggage Reclaim and Customs we them found ourselves at something of a lose end… As our flight had landed early, no one was here to meet us yet! So we just waited for quarter of an hour until we saw John's oasis of clam dwarfing all the hustling and bustling locals. Hugs and kisses distributed - we headed out to the main the road and flagged down a taxi for the journey through Pandemonium that is Lima.

The traffic in Lima is to put it lightly, Shambollically chaotic. Cars swoop and career in and out of lanes randomly and without any thought for other drivers. The Traffic Police dare not stand in the road and instead have little boxes half way up lamp-posts from which they scream, shriek and blows whistles at the automated madness below them. The view from within the car is enough to convert all unbelievers, half an hour in Peruvian traffic could lead to a new god being created such is the need to pray for safe passage to something! Cars skid to a halt - occasionally with the help of another car used to cushion the impact! Desperately scrabbling around for a seatbelt - which may or may not be there, you find your self looking with stupified amazement at the milling, thronging throbbing veins of the city, all pulsing and gushing with rusty, coughing exhausted vessels - and perhaps most crazily of all - all working.

Soon, however, we were on the coast road gazing out to the giant white crucifix which, in light of the drivers around you, has an uncanny ability to demand your attention and even the occasional prayer!

Eventually we arrived at Clare's and Neil's luxurious house and were instantly plied with beer and demands for news, offers of showers, tours of the house and a veggie Sunday roast, complete with cracking potatoes - ('Gromit'!) Only problem was that we were dog tired. As much as we wanted to stay up and burn the midnight oil with Clare, Neil and John, exhaustion and delayed motion sickness were winning. In the bathroom I kept undergoing great waves of seeming turbulence - so much so that at one point I had to concentrate on the items standing on the sink to check that there wasn't an earthquake happening - such was the extent of the sensations of movement around me!

Don't even remember going to bed!

Paracas

Managed to get up about 8ish feeling relatively normal and not too jet lagged. Went for morning constitutional and promptly managed to block Clare's bog! Not the most auspicious start to my stay here! We sat down to try and arrange the days movements, then ventured out into the Lima's watery light to go to the bank - get some money and see a little of where Clare lives. It didn't take long for memories of our previous visit - to come back. Cars all pipping at us - wanting to give us a lift, money changers hanging outside the banks waving their wads at us, security guards all fully armed looking every bit as dangerous as a fully primed broccoli floret. Had the joy of being kept waiting ages by the bank teller who went to check on my passport, photocopy it, probably send it off the Inter-pol and God only knows what else. Clare had already warned us that the Peruvians love paperwork and as this journal will reveal - don't they just!

Once back at Clare's, John made us some of his special 'getting to grips with the day - porridge' - fortunately this set us up a treat and before long we were heading off on our first big adventure.

The Ormeno Bus station is nothing new to us - having arranged previous trips there last time we at least knew where it was. Of course last time we had Ali to hide behind as she tended to handle - well - everything really. This time around, Gill and I have to try and be growed up and deal with these things ourselves (such has been my dedication to this holiday that I even had a crib sheet on my PC at work) so with much self conscious shuffling we grunted and ummed and erred our way to this poor fellow who probably didn't deserve to have to deal with us:

'Right then bonny lad, dos bolletos por mia destination preferrez pretty bloody chop chop and non of ye patter either sunshine'

Fortunately our impressive South American vernacular proved a phenomenal success and soon enough we were clutching our tickets feverishly trying to figure out what we might have done wrong! However our brilliance can not really be understated and by and by we boarded the coach and pulled into the Lima traffic.

The drive to the Paracas reserve is three and a half hours down the Pan American highway. It takes about an hour or so to shrug off the thought provoking shanty districts of Lima's outskirts and as we left the capital behind, the sun emerged - no longer obscured by the thick blanket of smog and grime particular to Lima's exhaust ridden roads. The Pan American highway pretty much follows the coast south, with the mighty peace of the Pacific ocean on the right and the vast sprawling wastes of the desert on the left. Occasionally vultures and eagles would soar overhead while on the roadside people seem to be waiting for something. Nothing particular, just something. Mothers hold their babies, gaggles of men sit around on cardboard boxes, smoking, drinking or just waiting. But I never did find out what for. Maybe they only do it to tweak the interest of nosy tourists!

By 4.30 pm we pulled into the grounds of the Paracas Hotel - journeys end. And another opportunity for us to display our not inconsequential linguistic skills:

'Ah - Bon Appetito mon good man - me and et mia birdios voudrais uno roomio apara dos personas avec le grassyarse, bitte danke'

Ah the joys of multi-diverse linguistic application!

Well something worked because we found ourselves being led towards a chalet with a direct view of the sea. Dumping our stuff straight away we wandered out to explore our new domain.

Having been in Peru less than 24 hours and most of that spent in Lima's chaotic hive, to describe the serenity of the Paracas reserve is like comparing day to night. Sitting at a little mini peer with the water gently lapping beneath our toes, we let the beauty of the place sink in.

The sun meandered towards it's bed on the horizon, while Pelicans lazily flapped along occasionally splashing into the water and looking around with a seemingly self contented air. Small terns screamed and wheeled, stooping and diving to pick out sand eels. On the shores edge, egrets stalked the shallows and sandpipers peeped and scuttled along the beach.

We wandered aimlessly along the shoreline for a while lost in our own thoughts and wonder, to where a group of pelicans were diving and scrambling around for food, then as the sun bade us goodnight, we returned to the chalet for wash and to get ready for dinner.

As we are a little unsure of our entitlement (we are here on a special prepaid mid week offer) we opted for a dish of the day which although edible, didn't really do much else for us. But that said, the beer went down a treat! Following dinner we tried to make a few arrangements and took a stroll along the front but tiredness soon got the better of wonder and we retreated back to our chalet for our first night in Paradise.

Paracas

Sh*t City Central

So here I am- sat in the balmy mid morning in the tropical oasis that is Paracas reserve unable to stop smiling as I mull over the morning events, let me tell you all about it…

A 7am alarm call for breaky before heading out to the marina and we boarded our boat 'Condor'. As we set off from the peer I spied a flamingo flying over head, it's long legs trailing far behind the rest of its gangly body. A flamingo! A bloody Flamingo!!! at 7.30 in the morning! A bloody trousery blinking flamingo!! Reality check!

Soon we were powering across the Pacific towards the Paracas peninsular. The Paracas reserve is basically the entire peninsular and the nearby Ballestas Islands, kept fertile and full of life thanks to a special blend of ecological happen-stance, Pacific wind patterns, geological structure but mainly, bird shit. The main point of interest as we passed the peninsular is the famous Paracas trident. This is basically a huge engraving in the side of the slope down to the sea. It is approximately 200m long and 100m wide and as it's name suggests takes the shape of a huge ornamental trident. It is only visible from the sky or the sea and therefore begs the question - What's the point!? - like the Nazca lines some 100 miles further south, the trident could be either purely ornamental, a warning, a sign to travellers (though what kind I unsure!) or perhaps an interesting conversation piece to lure gormless tourist to the area! - Regardless - it is a charming and thought provoking sight and in itself is as good a reason as any to take to the sea. We DO have other reasons though and after a further half hour slicing through the mornings choppy waters we close in on the Paracas Islands.

The Islands are a chain of rock and crags standing defiantly above the sea providing ideal shelter for local animal and bird life. Such is the abundance of bird life here that the Islands are also known as the Guano Islands. During the agricultural revolution Peruvian guano was exported to England, but enough of the geo-historical rambling and back to my own self absorbed reminiscent ramblings…

As the boat neared the Islands, the sky turned dark - a heaving, swaying, screaming, polkadot constellation of birds all swooping and turning above us and providing us with a deafening roaring accompaniment to their own spectacle. The guano stained cliffs all around us are a seething mass of birds: Terns, Boobies, Pelicans, Caracates, Cormorants, Black Vultures and even Penguins. The Caracate is smart looking dark tern like bird with an eye catching colourful moustache and a bright red bill. Further on we spied some Humbolt Penguins clambering up the Rock faces and staring at us - doubtless wondering what we all thought we were gawping at! The Humbolt Penguin is the most northerly found penguin in the world even being found as far north as the Galapagos Islands - There are no penguins in the northern hemisphere – which made the sight before us all the more special and poignant.

All around us Boobies swooped and dived into the sea while overhead on the cliff ledges, Cormorants and yet more Boobies leaned over, peering down at the funny multi-coloured things pointing back at them. Every inch of land is filled by squawking birds arguing and bickering with each other!

Further on, we closed in on the Island real tourist-pullers - the seals and sea-lions. The seals here number 1000s, Looking at the seas around us I realised that the waters were alive with the writhing agile shiny black bodies slipping between the rocks, coral and each other. In the coves and on the nearby rocks the seals and sea-lions moaned and roared at each other, occasionally breaking into skirmishes with each other while the younger ones played with each other happily trying to knock the others off the cliffs and back into the sea!. A couple of the Bull seals were a particularly impressive sight the width and weight of the neck providing some idea of just how terrifying it would be to get between one and it's pint! At other points the very young pups proved to be a constant source of 'oohs' and 'Ahhhs' while the rest of the colonies looked on with the bemused air of the nonchalantly curious.

When not gazing at the turbulent skies or the writhing cliffs, a brief inspection of the waters by the boat showed the sea thick with fish and some bright red crustaceans all scooting and punting their way from the masterful sea-lions and dive-bombing birds. Once our awe had been sated and our curiosity had dissipated to mere wonder we turned back towards land and jetted off to terra-firma.

As we disembarked and made our thoughtful way back down the jetty, the sea around us was absolutely teeming with fish, using the jetty as some kind of shelter from the threat of Pelicans and terns, the fish - of varying sizes, milled in and out of the peers legs, more like a vast cloud than a shoal. It seems that even the everyday things here that the locals just accept are amazing and delightful to the travelling tourist.

What a morning!

Following lunch Gill and I tried to arrange a land tour of the reserves peninsular for the afternoon. Here things turned a little sour. We had been told that the Hotel would arrange tours for us if we asked them to, but the tosspot in the tourist office flatly refused to help us. Nonplussed and a little annoyed but not beaten we decided to bugger the hotel and go and arrange a tour ourselves!

So armed with a camera and a day pack filled with bold determination and typically English naivety we ventured down to the nearby port and did the only thing you need to do to get attention here. We minded our own business. It took approximately two minutes for a wide boy to come bounding over to us offering his services. He must have thought it was Christmas when we nodded brightly and told him to bring it all on!

So five minutes later we're bundled into Carlos' car, bouncing over the near mythical cobbled path out into the Paracas desert. Carlos' grasp of English matched own ignorance of Spanish perfectly which meant that we had roughly two dozen words with which we were mutually familiar. Still, all things told we got along famously. First stop was a visit to the reserve's museum - it should be pointed out that as Gill and I had not the slightest idea what and where things of interest were here, we were soley at the mercy of Carlos. Fortunately Carlos was a capable and willing guide and what we didn't understand, he would patiently repeat, or flap his hands around until we made more affirmative noises.

Judging by the amount of modified remains and accompanying cranial drilling scars it's wonder that they had any descendants to pass onto the later civilisations who didn't howl at the moon and chase imaginary pink rabbits across the dunes.

Once out of the museum, Carlos with an encouraging grin, pointed us to a platform out in the middle of some mud flats, with a shrug we followed his directions and trudged the half mile or so to the platform. Having negotiated sloppy mud and wind whipped sand in our eyes, we climbed the steps and gazed out over the mud flats and it's occupants: Pink Flamingos. A group of about 50 or so were straying up and down the shoreline filtering the mineral rich water and doing that weird thing with their legs. Occasionally the honking call of the birds would float up to the stand were we gazed out over them and further across the bay - back to the hotel.

A trudge back across the sands later we piled into the back of Carlos' car and headed out into the desert's wilderness. The road to Leguna is hilariously enough nothing of the sort. By that I mean that we DID get to Leguna but this was more by Carlos driving skills and divine providence than adequate carriageway provision! OK Maybe I'm being a little harsh, there DID seem to be a road of some description through the desert sand - it was just so knackered that it was easier on the car - and it's passengers, to drive parallel to it rather than on it! After a wee while however we crested a dune and headed down towards the fishing hamlet of Leguna. Here Carlos waved us up the nearby cliffs them legged it off for a cup of tea! A brief clamber up the hill later we found ourselves gazing out to the eternal Pacific ocean, while around and below us Pelicans and vultures sought to use the cliff thermals to gain height, wheeling and soaring all around us.

On our return an increasingly enthusiastic and chippy Carlos took us for a walk along the beach pointing out this and that and chatting away to us like we were old friends! Despite the fact that we couldn't understand much of what we were hearing - we found ourselves doing exactly the same back!

Once back in the car we left any traces of road completely and ventured out to the desert plains proper. Stopping at seemingly featureless places Carlos bade us get out and putting thoughts of gun point tourist robbery firmly to the back of my mind we followed a couple of yards from the car - where he explained simply 'Cha Cha'. As this didn't sound particularly - 'stick em up-ish' we frowned - the universal sign of ignorant incomprehension. 'Cha Cha' he repeated with one expansive wave of his hand showing us the full panorama of the peninsular. The salt lakes, desert dunes, the beach and in the distance the Islands - Cha Cha. From this single precise location you can see all around the peninsular from North to South and East to West. Impressive!

Following 10 minutes of car born sand surfing we pulled up at ‘The Cathedral’, an impressive free standing rock arch rising 100s of feet from the churning sea below crested with a rock formation uncannily resembling the figure of a person kneeling in prayer. In the surrounding’s wild and spectacular setting, the Cathedral is an impressive and serene giant amid the madness of the peninsula's vibrant seas and the deserts relentless timelessness.

Carlos delivered us safely back to the dock where I think we paid twice what we where meant to, but that is still nowhere near as much as the afternoon was worth! Tired but filled with the elated satisfaction of having done the trip (in-spite of the hotels refusal to help us and possibly having enjoyed it all the more because of this), we returned to the complex and promptly fell asleep as soon as we sprawled on the bed! - We managed to raise ourselves for another Hotel Paracas culinary delight - this time including green/grey spinach soup!?! A couple of beers and a quick walk later we shuffled back the chalet so tired we couldn't even be bothered to watch TV!

Paracas - Lima

After the wonderous madness of yesterday - today is basically given over to sloth and waiting, the coach will collect us at 4.15 p.m. and we have the rest of the day to amuse ourselves. After a leisurely breakfast we wandered right along the sea front. Ambling at our own pace beneath the boiling heat of the desert sun - (but with gentle coastal breeze to keep the heat bearable!) we made our way right to the edge of the towns borders. On route we stopped to watch two beautiful falcons on the nearby telegraph wires - seemingly un-phased by our presence they allowed us to get almost underneath them. Out to sea the Pelicans scrabbled in the water while beneath our feet scampering lizards and a single dawdling cockroach made they way through their own lives - while Gill and I had a blissfully easy amble through our own.

Following lunch we left our bags at reception and waited for the afternoon to idle by at the edge of the pool, occasionally taking a break from our reading to cool off in the waters shallows, under the benevolent gaze of the group of black vultures in the trees above us. The coach arrived on time and we enjoyed a beautiful sunset, watching the sun sizzle into the calm waters of the Pacific.

Once back in Lima we successfully managed to jump a cab whose driver didn't have the slightest idea of where he was going, following a quick burst of directions at a Police Station we arrived at Clare's with 15 minutes to spare before being whisked off out for dinner.

Steve is a Mancunian. Apart from this there is nothing really wrong with him. He is a teacher at Clare and Neil's school and loyal readers may recall, he managed to make a fool out of us all last time by pretending to be a Cusconian llama farmer!!?! (If you think that's daft - we all fell for it!?!). Well he has just announced his engagement to his Peruvian girlfriend / Fiance Fabienne - so we all went out to a local restaurant: 'Si Signors' to celebrate. The food was good, the beer better and the relaxed atmosphere round the table most palatable. As the evening drew to a close Steve and John both decided that a 'Taquilla Slammer' was called for (For Steve to celebrate his engagement and for John to celebrate his arrival in Peru).

The staff brought over Steve's Slammer and insisted that he involve his fiance. So basically he was forced to lick the salt from Fabienes neck, down his Slammer and them bite his lime - currently held in Fabienes mouth. A tradition I feel I should try and introduce back home. Smiling enthusiastically John grinned - 'I'll have one of what he's having!'

Not so my dear boy…

I think John first sensed trouble when they approached him with a hard hat.

Once the hat was unceremoniously dunked on his head his initial fears increased.

Then they assaulted him.

Violently and mercilessly.

It was like watching a gangland abduction:

- Salt (OK),

- Taquilla - (again - OK), then he was grabbed from behind by the first assailant and a cloth held over his mouth by a second. He was then violently shaken by the head for about ten seconds, then the chair tipped right back and his whole body was subjected a fierce physical discourtesy. The first assailant continued to cover his mouth with the gag the second then picked up a chair and the victim was struck repeatedly over the head with the stool until the waiters, seemingly under the impression that John was dead, let his body go.

That your honour, concludes the case for the defence.

Obviously we couldn't move for laughing!

John took it all with remarkable good grace - given that when we got home his phrenological condition was hugely altered - let that be a lesson kids - alcohol IS bad for you!

I managed to get some revenge for John by insisting on kissing the two head waiters who, were too awkwardly placed to want to upset the customer by denying his wish, reluctantly acceded to my demands for a kiss, but both ran screaming into the Kitchens as we left!

Lima

And then there were three…

From today, the content or vernacular of these chronicles may alter from previous entries. Tonight we will be receiving Rachel into the ranks and I will have another objective subject to scrutinise my observations, provide confirmation or otherwise of events and helpfully point out mistakes, minor embellishment and down-right lies. I'll have to be careful from here on in then.

We started the day with some of John's post assault, hangover porridge and damn fine porridge it was too! Gil and I then sat down to sort out, prevaricate about, hypothesise to whit and basically fart on regarding finances, schedules, if, whats and where-fors. Once we were both fully confused I rang Tulio (Iglasias - Ah Shaddapayaface!) and made arrangements to meet him at the bank to pay for services rendered, and excursions arranged. Dressed in knee length shorts and with my plaits in, Tulio had little difficulty discerning us from the other people in the bank and after arranging payment details with him - he kindly offered to give us lift into Mira Flores. Here we buggered about eventually buying nothing but certainly made plans to return later with our pennies to spend.

We made our way to the coast dodging shoeshine boys, beggars and street vendors and found ourselves in the Plaza de Armour, where the giant statue of a couple in a passionate clinch even shows the boys toes curling up in physical ecstasy. Unfortunately it also (for reasons known only to the artist) has the letters VD etched into the seat pocket of the boys trousers. Maybe a little dark warning of the possible perils of too much l'armour!!! - at least not without a noddy anyway.

We followed the coast path back to Barranco but by the time we made it back to the outskirts we were all knackered and too tired to speak very much! Things probably were not helped by me insisting on stopping every 5 minutes for a picture of the coast line! Little things aside from everyday England always delight me - so the hummingbirds and parakeets playing in the trees of the parks is remarkable if only for the simple happiness it gave me.

Within an hour of getting back, Gill and I headed back out the streets and flagged at taxi to go the Airport:

'Ah gracias et biennvenue! unos Ich Motche le aeropuerto (accompanying hand / plane signals and brooming noises) por le now muchos tarrios me plenty good fella!'

And so we found ourselves waiting for Rachel in the newly refurbished - 'waiting for people while watching them get their luggage restaurant thing' - knowing that Neil would have dinner waiting for us when we got back - we opted for a cheeseburger and chips combo! Eventually Rachel wandered into view, but had been chosen by the god of international luggage transport to be the last person to receive their luggage. A full 20 minutes she spent waiting for a rucksack that at one point looked like it would never materialise!

As she collected her bags we piled downstairs and met her as she walked out into the seething mass of Peruvian mayhem constituting taxi drivers, security guards and of course people waiting! - After hugs and kisses we stumbled out to the road and flagged down our destiny! - This is because we nearly died in the damn thing! As we made our way down the coast road the gentle hum of Gillian and Rachel chatting the back seat was rudely interrupted by the sound of squealing breaks and the looming image of a bus filling the view of the left side of the car. Rachel's trouser filling terror was discernible by her staccato would-be epitaph:

While Gill and Rachel tried to rearrange their thoughts and doubtless there underwear, the rest of the journey passed in uneasy silence, while our driver skilfully sought to avoid any and all smooth or flat bits of road, opting instead for the gung-ho off-road approach. After driving round the outskirts of Barranco for a while it became obvious that Pedro Dipshit didn't have the slightest clue where he was or where he needed to be. In the end we ended up ringing Clare from a petrol station, I went to help him with the call in case he buggered that up too.

45 minutes and lifetime after leaving the Airport, we pulled up outside Clare's house and so relieved was I to be alive, that I tipped him heartily wishing him a long and imminent retirement. Once back in the safety of Clare's place we settled down to a fine meal courtesy of Neil. Beers and chit-chat flowed and eventually we graciously allowed Rachel to get some rest and tottered off to bed.

Lima - Huaraz

Over the hills and far away!

With Clare off work for a long weekend we had the luxury of leaving (or should I say Allowing?!) her to arrange the days transport to the mountain mining town of Huaraz.

We arrived at the Mobil bus station and with so much time to spare I opted for a quick lie down and a waggle. It wasn't until a laughing woman kindly pointed out that they clean the floors in these places with petrol! - Er - well, yeah, I knew that, great! yeah, er, I don't feel like a flammable twit. Much!

We got on the coach and my worsening mood wasn't helped by a family of 3 and above in the two seats behind me and one of the brats altering between playing kicking back of my chair and screaming it's bloody head off. The drive north out of Lima afforded memorable views of Lima’s substantial hut and shanty districts as well as it's inhabitants pissing in the central reservation - not that it offered any cover you understand - maybe it was an alternative, if cocky (sorry!), way of flagging down a taxi - er - if you see what I mean.

Once out of the worst of Limas dirty shanty districts we followed the coast road north for a couple of hours - with the sea and occasional pelican for company on the left and the dusty crop fields and further on the horizon distant mountains to our right. About mid afternoon we turned right and struck off in the direction of the hills. For an hour or so the view was merely beautiful, the hills and mountain coming first into focus and them drawing in around us as we wound our way along the valley floor. Above, vultures and Eagles soared on the afternoon thermals high above the lengthening shadows and our own plodding bus. Gill later asked me about a bird she saw - a big vulture, mainly black with white patches, I think this could well have been a Condor.

As the sun's rays struggled to fill the valley we found the road climbing up the side of the increasingly daunting looking mountains and leaving the valley floor far below. At this point I will try and adequately describe the route through the mountains. Basically if I hadn't travelled it I would not have thought it possible. The road to Huaraz rises from sea level to over 4500 meters. If you try and envisage driving three miles - entirely vertically - this gives you some idea of the rate of climb the road demands. Clinging to the precipitous mountain sides - winding, twisting and swooping back on itself, reaching ever higher and ever steeper, the heady heights whirled in and out of view as we wound our way onwards.

The light failed early as we were ensconced in the mountains - but also because of this, the evening was a long drawn out affair (this close to the equator evenings and dawns are a brief affair - rarely lasting longer than thirty minutes from one extreme to the other). Barrenly beautiful but gradually fading in the slow approach of night, the day worn sand brown dust of the mountains gave way to bluey purple slopes of the night-time mountain trail. Finally breaking out at about 4500m we found ourselves now amid the snow capped peaks and began our gradual descent towards the Callejon de Huaylas and ultimately Huaraz.

Just as my back was really beginning to hurt we pulled into a busy but dark and forbidding looking town. Bienvenue y wilkommen a Huaraz!

Under siege from a myriad of hotel reps and taxi drivers, we picked one at random who happened to work for the hotel we were booked into! Bonza! Luck or skill - you decide. Regardless, we were soon stumbling down the unlit streets, tripping over curbs and stones while our rep explained that the town was suffering a region wide power cut! - Great. Nice piece of timing there then.

Our hotel was a long, ten minute walk from the bus station and we were all relieved to fall into the foyer, fill in our bits and pieces and dump our bags in our rooms. As we are now at altitude - Huaraz sits at a height of 3090m, even a short walk down the street takes the breath from you so the three flights of stairs to our rooms I can only consider a malicious joke on behalf of the Hotel!

After an hour or so to freshen up and sort stuff out we ventured out for a bite to eat. With the street lights all out of action, the only illumination came from the passing cars, random street vendor barrows and ourselves. It is therefore testament to God, fate or good luck then, that John happened to glance down just a nano-second before almost falling down a bloody great hole in the pavement! Obstacles and darkness aside we eventually found a restaurant befitting our status and settled down to dinner and chat. The evening pleasantly slipped by while stories were swapped and the bar generator occasionally hiccuped causing the delightful sounds of 'Burt Bacharach pan pipe selection' - or whatever was playing to occasionally slur and die!

A days travelling and altitude however were taking their toll on the group - apart from Rachel and John who don't seem in the least affected - so we made our way back the hotel and settled down the for night. It's nice to be here though with Rachel and Clare and John all together there is a nice feeling of togetherness and despite, back pains, breathlessness and altitude headaches everyone seems genuinely happy and relaxed.

Huaraz

Woke up about 7.30 a.m. and with the last day or so being so hectic, we lounged in bed chatting and catching up. One surprise to me was how chatty Rachel was. Years of friendship have taught me that Rachel is not, in general, a 'morning' person. Numerous morning walks into Uni with me jibbering away and Rachel balefully mumbling single syllable grunts in reply to my witterings have stayed with me and I vowed to try and not be too annoying. However we had a right old chinwag and finally badgered Gill into consciousness as well.

Once up, we all took turns in the 'mega-blastic, skin peeler 4 Industrial cleaner power-shower' - most of us getting away with only superficial hydro-friction burns and impact bruises (speaking as a bloke though - you made a point of making sure the water didn't strike you any lower than the abdomen!). Then we ventured out into Huaraz's dizzy sunshine in quest of some breakfast, money and a plan!

It's fortunate that Clare has been here before as we were able to simply follow her around while she took us wherever we wanted to go. With the added virtue of sunlight, we were able to make out a bit more of Huaraz than last nights shadows allowed. One of the first things we walked past was the Plaza de Armas with quite possibly one of the most grotesque statues I've ever seen. The Spanish colonisation of Peru in the 16^th century enforced a Catholic status on the whole country but looking at statues like these you wonder whether or not there is some kind of silent subversion going on. The hands of the Christa Blanca in the main Plaza are about twice as big as the rest of the statues proportions require - and the overall scene is more of ridicule then reverence. Really Weird!

We decamped for breakfast at a café with Clare's endorsement and true to form all had a fantastic meal - setting us up nicely for the day! Once fed and fattened, we split up with Clare and John sorting some stuff out for John's Santa Cruz trek next week and sorting out a place to stay tonight, while Gill, Rachel and I had a nosey round and to get some money. Ah yes, money. Ahem.

So Gillian and Rachel go into the nearby Banco Intercontinental to change some Travellers Cheques so I have a five minute walk around the Plaza, and then another one. Then Gillian asks me to check if there are any other banks or independent changers around as the queue in the bank seems to be about as fast moving as a geriatric mollusc. So, a walk up and down the street tells me that all the banks seem to be equally full and the money changers who harangue you for custom all draw blank looks and shakes of the head when you venture the words - 'Cheque de Voyage?' - bastards! I return to the bank where Gill and Rachel have managed to move up to about 20^th from the counter! - Half an hour gone! - I take Gill's place and wait with Rachel for bit so Gill can have a sit down. Then with time marching on towards our hotel checkout deadline, I walk Gillian back to the hotel so she can sort out our sortables and head back to meet Rachel who no doubt is being served at this minute and will probably bump into me as I head back down the street.

The narration of this next paragraph, probably demands adequate contextualisation so please if you will, tune in to our flickering episode with the 'Keystone Bank-clerks' all heavily mascara'd while Rachel and myself keep staring at the camera in desperation - possibly waggling improbable moustaches and sighing over-emphatically…

So I get to the bank and find Rachel propping up the counter while the bumbling arse-parts check her passport, photocopying this and that and then finally after a few minutes of studiously avoiding eye contact and trying to pretend that Rachel and I are pieces of furniture, tell us that they MUST ring American Express to verify the Travellers Cheques. But they don't have the phone number so they are sending Henry the janitor out to look in a phone book!!! - Well for a phone - then in it - a phone book.

Aaarrggghhhhh!

Then, like Obi Wan Kenobi guiding the young Jedi hopeful, the haunting words of Obi Wan Clare rang and echoed through my mind - 'They just love paperwork…' but what else could we do but wait? And wait. And wait. When you're being treated thus, conversation hardly flows so to the sound of people jibbering and my beard hairs growing - we settled down.

'Here sire, I've got it, I've got it'.

The words : 'Now then I've never used a phone before I wonder what you have to do' fill the screen.

We now settle down to 10 minutes of frustrated phone antics - probably with the clerk speaking into the wrong bit and so on. So after an hour and fifteen minutes - AN HOUR AND FIFTEEN MINUTES! - Rachel receives her passport, some money and a receipt detailing 12 dollars - yes! - 12 DOLLARS as admin and service costs. With awe-struck wonder overcoming incredulous outrage, we exit the bank - grateful only that it is still daylight outside.

The End - (in flickering fading light)

Soon all five of us were piled into a taxi headed further along the valley to Pasada de Yunga - some 18km from Huaraz. Leaving behind the frustrations of the morning, we wound our way through the mountains eventually pulling off to a series of Chalets nestled into the hillside, looking across the valley to the mountains opposite. Our chalets were humble but adequate yet perfectly placed to take in the beauty of the mountains all around us and utterly charming. After the busy mentality of the town, here we found ourselves immersed in serene tranquillity. Oh and hungry horseflies too!

Once unpacked and rested we wandered up to dine (and be dined on) under the welcome shade of the alfresco dining tables. With coke and Mate de Coca poured we all settled down and revelled in the blissful lack of any obligations! Idle plans for horse-riding and walking were banded about, but with lunch gently settling and the hot sun calming any intentions of activity, we just let life ooze snoozily by!

We did manage to raise ourselves for a short walk to check out the mighty mountain of Huascaran (6768 meters) and behind it the one of the Alpamayo peaks. But as the sun was dipping behind the mountains, we headed back to the Chalets only receiving general arterial lacerations from some nearby rabid dogs!

We ventured back into the town for a bite to eat but for some reason - possibly altitude - my legs were incredibly sore (circulation?) and this was causing complications with my back - so my countenance somewhere between grumpy and pained. I brought little to the group apart from people asking what the bloody hell I was doing lying on the floor in the foyer - waggling my legs about! Once again the meal was good however - and spirits were generally high. Not least because we had brought our head torches out with us - which in the light on the ongoing power cut - made navigating our way to and around the otherwise pitch black bathroom much easier!

The taxi journey back to the chalets was beautiful. I love driving through wild places at night and the absolute still of the mountains, save our own taxi, was calming and restful. Chatter subsided in the back as we all succumbed to the ethereal peace of the midnight blue mountains. Once back we were all ready for bed - but not before five minutes outside gazing at the clear sky and the hills and marvelling at ourselves here, a world away from anywhere, lost in the timelessness of the Andean mountains.

Huaraz

The day's events I am about to relate to you are in effect a crime. In the stunning majesty of the Andean empire, the need to explore and discover is probably imperative. The fact that we spent pretty much the whole day lounging around in the sun then, pays tribute either to everyone showing concern for my previous evenings back pains - or to the fact that everyone embraced a day of sublime laziness without too much of a struggle!

In the baking heat of the mountain sun we sat and watched industrious Scarlet Rollers flitting from tree to tree until the heat became too much even for them. Congregating on the porch of our chalet we all just chilled, read, lay, chatted, swatted flies and scratched itching bites - pretty much through the whole day - occasionally taking time out of the sun to lay inside and take the odd freezing shower. I don't know whether there is hot water when there isn't a power cut but right now the only running water is very cold indeed! I think John summed it up best when he said he just spent his whole shower hyperventilating!

Having wasted the day in the nicest possible way we headed back into the town for dinner and to see Clare onto the night bus back to Lima - we will stay the night and get the bus back tomorrow - once we've seen John off. The Bus station was absolutely heaving - as it is the end of the bank holiday everyone was jostling and hustling to go back home so the wait for Clare's bus was busy and manic. Eventually however she pulled off and we ventured back to Chalet having finally managed to find a taxi driver who knew where we wanted to go. Our previous taxi hailing attempts resulted in blank looks of dull incomprehension, of course what we thought we were saying and what the taxi driver actually heard were probably two completely different things. - while our ears heard us say in perfect Spanish - 'Ho there taxi driver - please whisk us away to the charming mountain side chalets at 'Paya de Junga', keep the journey smooth and quick and there will be a little treat for you!' - he probably heard 'Bottom fish banana my egg has lost its hairs can I borrow your hoover comb bowl'…

Once back at the chalets we took care to warn John about the Andean Chuckocabra - reminded everyone that earlier we had seen a huge blooded machete and that no-one would ever know if we were butchered in our beds and went to bed!

Not before another five minutes gazing at the night sky in silent reverence - obviously.

Huaraz - Lima

Greetings from Shitsville

The night was punctuated by a blinding flash of light, illuminating the whole sky. In terrified silence, I lay waiting for a nuclear blast impact or the breaking front of a giant comet shock-wave - but nothing happened. Then all the lights came on! - The power-cut, it would seem was now officially over.

After that, sleep was difficult to regain so when Gill stirred to make sure that John had got up in time to get his lift to begin his Santa Cruz trek, it was a blessed opportunity to get up and out and shrug off the demons of night. As we approached John's chalet he came ambling towards us with bags packed to head down to the road. We went with him and waited for his ride to come. Looking a little nervous and unsure but excited, we bade the littlest hobo goodbye - and while he was trying to ask the driver what, where and how much, his bag was flung into the back and he was ushered into the van and off on the next four days of his life!

Heading back to the chalet the dawn light on Huascaren and Alpamayo cast a glorious auburn / pink glow over the world and while the Andes came slowly into focus we made our way back to the chalet and began packing.

After breakfast we asked for the bill - as John and Clare had left their payment with us to settle up. Having been quoted and budgeted for X amount - you can imagine our stupified incredulousness when we received a bill for over three times that amount. We confidently informed the guy that had made a mistake and asked him to bring us the real bill. However he insisted that the rates were correct and pulled that trick of not understanding what we were talking about when we tried to explain to him that we had neither the means nor the money to cover the cost of the bill.

Suddenly we were all very alone in a foreign land and unsure what to do. The problem is that we are used to people trying to rip us off and that we have to keep our guard up - but the guy wasn't playing any haggling game - his price was what he charged and as far as he was concerned it was not his fault if we had been given wrong information at the towns tourist office.

In the end we agreed that Rachel and I would go back into the town and change some money while Gill stayed at the chalets. Once in the town, we soon found out to our mounting frustration that the cash machines were out of order!! So we queued in the banks un-intelligible queuing system - tried to jump in in-front of other people and finally managed to change the travellers cheques we very nearly didn't even bring to Huaraz! Then it was back in the taxi - (our driver must have thought it was Christmas doing three runs for the sake of one) back to the Paya de Junga - pay the bill - absolutely NO tip! and then back into town!

After a small forever of a morning we were in the town with enough time to wander around the museum and get our breath back. The museum wasn't too amazing except for the gardens housing dozens of stone effigies - looking like a cross between some totem tops and the Easter Island heads. They are dotted around the region - I saw one in a field near the lodges this very morning - and are simply beautiful and utterly intriguing. (It's dead cute the way they all have their little feet tucked in at the bottom so that the sculpture is of a complete character!)

We headed to the bus station and booked in our heavier bags and sat down to wait for the bus. Our half hour wait was punctuated only by some old guy asking if we had dropped our tickets drawing our attention to something on the floor. Nothing to do with us however. When the bus came we got up and gathered our bags to embark - when I realised that my video camera bag was not there!

Feeling like some method actor in tacky travel insurance advert I frantically searched the area but instantly knew that it had been stolen. Feeling empty and cold I desperately ran around the station checking the door - hoping to see some stereotype thief figure with my bag - hoping that I could catch them and chase for the bag - praying that I could do something. But of course I couldn't. It was gone and un-tracable. Remonstrating and pleading with the staff at the station was yielded no joy as they simply weren't interested in some gringo's poncy camera - all they wanted to was get the coach under way.

In the end we had to give the camera up as a lost cause and get on the coach - If we missed this coach the next one wasn't for another twelve hours and we had a pre-booked flight to catch early in the morning. Feeling sick and infuriated by the impotence of not being able to do anything, I climbed aboard the bus slunk into my seat lost in my own fantasies of violent revenge, tried to resign myself to the facts. I was unable to look Gill or Rachel in the face - even though I knew it must be just as bad - if not worse - for them, after all, they only wanted to help me - yet there was nothing they could do! Eventually, physically exhausted and emotionally weary from mornings trials I fell into a fit-full slumber.

A little rested and with an hour or so to come to terms with events, I did a little contextualising and reasoning of events. OK this morning had been shit - but we'd had a camera stolen - not money or travellers cheques and more importantly no-one had been injured. One superfluous item had been taken but there was nothing that could greatly ruin the holiday further. Finally managing to look directly at Gillian and Rachel for the first time in hours - I apologised for my mood and resolved that we wouldn't let this spoil the rest of the holiday. And although obviously I was still very upset - and Gill and Rachel were sensitive to this - the need to get over the days events became paramount. It became a grim determination not to let those thieving scum-sucking bastards hurt me any more than they already had.

The seven hour journey back to Lima was thoughtful and somewhat more sombre than the initial trip three days earlier. The only point worthy of mention was a group of about three dozen vultures all circling over one of the mountain tops - to the right of them was a larger vulture with black and white markings - similar to the one Gill told me she had seen on the way up. With only two seconds to see it - identification was tricky but it is certainly possible that what we saw was a Condor.

Once back in Lima we rang Clare to warn her about what had happened, then tried to get a taxi, all of which tried to rip us off silly (after a day like today what else did I expect?!). In the end we opted for the best of a bad bunch and with only the occasional wrong turn (non of the taxi drivers seem to know where Barranco is) we finally arrived back at Chez Clare.

Clare managed help the days events fall away somewhat with a great curry and a sympathetic ear. Ringing around a few people she figured out what was to do and then ventured out to the local police station with me to try and file a report.

Wandering into the Police station, we were regarded with pompous suspicion by the gaggle of men by the desk. Instantly I felt very small, very ignorant, very inadequate (vocally at least) and hugely grateful to have Clare there with me. She explained what had happened to the supercilious, fat policeman who seemed to have problems handling our simple request to have the crime reported. Eventually we were given a phone number by the condescending Copper who seemed to look down on Clare as an unimportant woman - and as a tourist, I was obviously beneath contempt. Although we tried to explain that all we needed was a form to fill in for insurance - he wasn't up for being any real help although did at least remain genial.

Having left the Police station we headed back to Clare's, where she made far more headway ringing some well placed friends than all the patient explanations at the Police stations in the world! Eventually she managed to find out exactly what I needed to do once we got to Cusco - she jotted everything down for me. Finally I managed to get a couple of beers and some bags packed and eventually fell into bed.

Note:

Looking back on the day I realise that circumstances beyond our control dictated events. If the morning hadn't been manic - we may not have been so tired and off guard at the bus station… but then again we will never know. I guess, I hope that whoever nicked it really needed the money - but the certainty that they will sell it for about 10 dollars and that the poor daft bastard that stole it won't be able to make a real change to his life makes the whole episode seem so worthless. Part of me however, hopes that their genitals fall off tonight. In retrospect if we had been held up at gun point - I would have given them the camera but I would have taken the film out first! - It's the lost footage that is the real shame!

I became acutely aware as well just how lucky we are to have Clare here. Once we got back to Lima, Clare really was a marvel. Calm and collected, she dealt with the police fantastically and helped me feel a little better about what we had to so. Nothing was too much trouble for her - bearing mind she had work early in the morning. She stayed up late, phoning people and sorting out issues for us. It's easy to take friends for granted but moments like this make me re-assess and reconsider the importance of friendship. Today everyone, Gill, Rachel and of course Clare showed such compassion, consideration and sympathy to make me feel humble. Nothing beyond Thank-you can adequately repay my feeling of gratitude - I just hope I can be as much a friend back someday.

Lima - Cusco

Up with the lark - or at least with the Clare and Neil, and some last minute packing later - we were venturing out into Lima's watery predawn light and piling into a taxi to the airport. After last times problems with our flight to Cusco (We didn't get one!) - It was a pleasant surprise to swan through check in, onto the plane, a quick allez-oop over the mountains and we were circling over the Cusconian bowl and down into the Andean sunshine.

Fortunately that great mate I was just telling you about earlier had arranged our accommodation and transport, so negotiating Cusco's taxi scrum was a breeze - assuming that the sign for 'Roewll' was for us we hopped on and hopped off again at the Hostel Corihuasi. While they finished cleaning our rooms we sat and had a cup of Coca tea and gazed out over the beauty of Cusco in the sunshine. Soon enough we were led up the stairs, across the landing, down the stairs, round the corner, down the stairs, round the corner, down the next two flights of stairs across the courtyard up the stairs, across the landing… to our room. Had to lie down.

Once we had regained our senses we sifted through some pretty lively laundry and then ventured out to one of the many laundry fronts just down the hill. Our skills of communication were put to the test by a young lad who quoted one price per kilo - gave a different overall price, wrote down a number of his own invention and when the washing was finally returned to us charged a different amount again!

Very hungry and thoroughly confused, we decamped at the Cross Keys Inn for some lunch, a drink and an assessment of where we were. While waiting for our lunch we were gotcha'd by on of the many not quite beggars. Basically what they do is shuffle up to your table and give you note in poor English stating words to the effect:

'I am a deaf, mute, blind, leg-less, arm-less, headless dead person and as part of a co-operative I make these repulsive looking effigies that will probably give you nightmares - if you accept my offering and give me some money - I will leave you alone'

As far as begging goes it is preferable to most approaches and in general I find myself reaching for my wallet - at this point however, non of us had any change so I just had to treat him to a big grin and cheerfully tell him to bugger off!

After a lack lustre curry we wondered back to the hotel and promptly fell asleep. I guess the early start and hassles of yesterday caught up with me and I didn't stir again until 6pm!

Managed to drag ourselves out and had a lovely dinner basically revolving around chips and soup (at altitude the body tends to prefer to eat little and often rather than great big meals so appetites were a little curbed. Well mine and Gillian's were - Rachel appears to be completely unaffected by the altitude - never pausing for breath, able to eat any time anyway anywhere and always up for a drink. The girl is impervious to anything! )

Took a quick wander around the square, got mobbed by menu flaunting restaurant reps - ' ' "Ju come to my restaurant yessss - it isss the besssst…" etc etc. Dodged maniac taxi drivers, ignored postcard selling little urchins and took in the gentle madness of Cusco at night.

Wobbled back to the hotel and settled down for the night.

Wednesday 4^th July

Cuzco

Fertile fountains and Sexy women!

Discovered an interesting fact regarding our rooms location last night. Having travelled a small Inca trail and 64 steps to get here we are directly under the main reception and staff quarters. How did I manage to ascertain this you may well ask? - Well by the fact that we hardly got any bloody sleep last night due to the continual squeaking of the floor boards that constitute our ceiling. Lying on the outskirts of sleep continually dragged from the abyss of rest by incessant squeaking and groans I began to wander if the place was haunted but nothing quite so interesting I'm afraid.

Woke up feeling groggy and tired. After feeling our way around breakfast we ventured out into the morning sun to make some tour arrangements and change some money. We found the bank and hung around to obtain some form or other I need to make a claim for my camera then retired to a veggie restaurant for lunch.

After lunch we ventured into 'SAS' to arrange our return flights to Lima and to book Rachel on a two day Inca trail. I gallantly informed everyone that I would pay for everything on my card so I would look all growed up and in control. It took the wind out of my sails a little then, when I realised that I had left my cards in the hotel safe - 'er Rachel… did you say you had your purse on you…'.

The afternoon was given over to a whistle stop tour of Cusco - despite having taking pretty much the same tour last time we came here we felt that the tour was worth a second visit and indeed we were not disappointed. Various members of our tour party were suffering with altitude sickness - so at a fortuitous stop at a Coca café, our guide suggested that those affected have some coca chocolate or coca tea to combat the effect of the altitude - (which having suffered the last time we were here I can fully sympathise with those effected). But this bloody American bag wouldn't let one of her party have any, insisting to the guide (who only lives here and helps people with this EVERY day!) that people should just have asprin and that they shouldn't try any ethnic drugs! - Tosspot!

Idiot Americans aside the rest of the tour was stimulating and instructive taking in

Temple of the Sun, The Cathedral, and then on up to Saqsauyhuaman - to take in the might of the ancient Cusconian Fortress. The shape of the fort is impossible to see from ground level - Like so many of Peru's wonders) but does in fact take the shape of a pumas head - with the old town - assuming the position of the cats body. Even without this bizarre and impressive fact in mind, the Fort is awe inspiring and in many ways the incredible feat of accomplishment almost passes you by. It takes a seconds reflection to fully grasp the enormity of the site and then to consider that materials were brought here through the mountains from as far away as 30 miles away by a civilisation 500 years ago!

As we boarded the coach we were stopped by a man selling postcards with our very own mugs on bidding all and sundry a Happy stay in Cusco. He had pounced taking our pictures earlier on in the tour and obviously hotfooted it home to create his art and bombed it up here to flog to us! Gill and Rachel wouldn't have any off it so I bought a few! - well it IS a holiday and I haven't seen any stuffed donkeys yet! Fought our way though groups of Llamas and local in 'traditional' costume and finally made it back to the coach!

Leaving behind Saqsayhuaman we then went on to Pukapukara to see the natural fertility fountains - and also to buy a magic water vessel! Then on to the Q'enqo riuns but by this time the light was fading so despite the beauty and historical significance of the sites it was finally something of a relief to return to the Central Plaza.

Once back in Cusco, Gill and I had a lie down while Rachel went to catch up on some e-mails at one of the Plaza's internet cafes.

Went out for tea at a restaurant called 'Los Peros' which proved a great success. I had my first taste of Alpaca, which was very nice, such is our gradual comfort with the altitude that we even dared drink beer! - (well like I said earlier Rachel's been eating and drinking as normal - it's been Gil and mainly me who have been taking things easy). Finally Rachel met her match in some Chocolate cake thing that although apparently very nice was just too much even for her!

Back to the hotel - pack and sleep!

Jungle

Into the Lost World

Got up at an obscenely early hour to get down to the airport for our 9.30 am flight to the Jungle port town of Puerto Malderado. Got sorted easily enough and while waiting for our flight to be called we had the dubious joy of a questionnaire to fill in regarding our sexual habits: 'Did you come to Cusco expecting any sex?' - well… if your offering…

If that wasn't odd enough while sitting each lost in our own thoughts - a lanky blond guy stalks up to us and says - 'John? - Gillian?' - It was only bloody Miles from University who we haven't seen since 1994!!! Once we have retrieved our collective jaws from the floor, we caught up on 7 years worth of gossip. Miles had actually been in Arequipa when the earthquake hit. In his own words: 'after the quake I shat me pants and spent the rest of the night wandering around the main square ' - probably looking for a toilet and an all night pants shop. Eventually we both went our separate ways - Well him to Lima and us to Puerto Malderado. But still bemused that we live 50 miles from each other and have never renewed communications - then on the other side of the world we bump into each other. Weird!

Soon enough we piled onto the plane and piled off again in the Jungle. Unfortunately the skies were overcast and angry looking - owing to a major rainstorm the previous day. This didn't stop it feeling both bloody hot and very humid however. We kept our Yellow Fever certificates to hand but we were studiously not asked to produce them! Stumping up to the Explorers Inn reps we announced ourselves and invited ourselves onto the coach.

A brief sojourn to the offices later and we were filing onto the boat in preparation for our three hour boat ride down the river to the Explorers Inn Complex. The journey down the river is a beautiful calming trip, relaxing in the gentle heat of the Jungle letting the river breeze keeping the worst of the heat at bay, taking in the sights of vultures and eagles lazily soaring above the trees... Beautiful!

One of our company - a VERY keen birder who couldn't sit still for rubber necking and peering through his binoculars at the river bank, proved a useful chap to have to hand. He pointed out, in raising tones of nearing hysterical excitement, a Turtle, Macaws and a pair of Capabara. Gil then pointed out a gaggle of Peckaries - the South American wild pig. Finally Norie our guide pointed out a Tira - a small cross between a weasel and a mongoose scampering by the side of the river! - Delightful!

Chatting to other members of the party I got an intriguing insight into the pig ignorance of some people abroad. Not that the people I was chatting too were stupid or rude - just eyebrow raisingly naïve! Do you have any lions here? Asked one of the guys who I later found out was something of a big knob in the digital developer whizz-kid! - LIONS!! Eh?! He also asked about giraffes and asked if there was anything interesting in the jungle….

HELLO!!!??

Got to the lodge enjoyed a drink and a very late lunch then picked our wellies (- like I said it had rained an awful lot, the night before), having selected her boots Gil then delved her foot into the boot, retracted the said limb, turned the boot upside-down and evicted a dead cockroach - nice!) Five minutes later we ventured into the jungle for a quick early evening walk. Well - when I say quick - it lasted a little longer than our guide had anticipated. And when I say 'early' due to afore mentioned delay it was actually a bit later than early!. And when I say 'evening' it may have been evening when we set off but it was bloody pitch black by the time we made it back to marked land!

The walk began ideally enough making our way through the trees and vines listening to the jungle settling down for the night and catching faint glimpses of this and that disappearing into the foliage. As the evening slipped towards night, and the shadows lengthened and merged, with the chatterings of roosting birds and far off cries of monkeys ringing in our ears… the only torch in the group packed in! Undeterred we bumbled on into the jungle or at least what we could see of it - with the light quickly failing it became tricky to see more than a few feet head! The real joys of the jungle then became apparent to us, invisible webs from God knows what, whisping along your face, vines and long grasses ticking your legs and arms, roots and branches tripping you up and occasional small boulders cheerfully trying to send you arse over tit!

And so, as the daytime jungle creatures bedded down for the night, and the nocturnal residents poked their collective noses into the Humid night, new, unidentified calls broke the silence:

'Oooooff - damn! - ROOT!'

'Root!'

'Root!'

'Root!'

'Wha ?- urgh!! - ROOT!'

…..

'Arghhhhh! - Web!'

'Web!'

'Web!'

'Arrrgghhhhh!'

…..

Splashing noises - 'Urgh - puddle!'

'PUDDLE!'

'PUDDLE!'

Pud- -oh bollocks - it's right here everyone!'

Pause

…..

Clunk! - 'ahyabastard!!!! Bloody big stone!'

'Bloody big stone'

Bloody big stone'

'Where? I can't see any-- aghhhhhhh! - BLOODY BIG STONE!'

Then came the winner…

- Commotion akin to the sound of someone falling down the stairs…

'STAIRS!'

'Ooooh! STAIRS!'

'Stairs - everyone look out'

'Stai---- aggghhhhhhh! -oof!'

'Hahahaha - wahhhhhhhh! - oof'

Eventually dazed and somewhat we bedraggled we emerged from the pitch confines of the jungle blackness ruefully grinning from ear to ear with the memories of our nocturnal jungle blunderings!

We were given 10 minutes grace before dinner at the main lodge and a quick talk about the South American Giant Otter - but as we've already seen it last time we were here we didn't have to pay too much attention! The joy of being in the jungle and the bliss of being nearer sea level - means that beer is most definitely allowed, more over, owing to the heat and humidity, it goes down a treat -' ah yes put that on my tab Pedro!'

After a couple of drinks and a chin-wag we all slunk off to bed tired but happy in this new wonderland. Once in the electric-less huts we all retired to our bunks snugly hidden away under our mosie nets. Rachel ruthlessly accused me of tickling her feet when I was merely concerned enough to adjust her mosie net to keep out all the creepy-crawlies - bearing mind we had to shake off a small menagerie from the roofs of the nets before got in the bunks!

Settled down to sleep with the Cacophony of howls cries and whoops from the jungle outside our lullaby - and yet it's just so peaceful here!. Tried to stay awake a while to enjoy the sounds and feelings of the jungle night - and who knows? maybe I did!

Jungle

Our 5am alarm call allowed half an hour for breakfast before venturing into the Jungle. Sitting at the table we chatted to our guide marvelling at how wonderful it was the wake up the stirring sounds of the Jungle - shrieking into life. The kitchen noises rattles and coffee and tea urns groaned and hissed. Then our guide stopped, cocked her head and said ' that is the sound I like best' - but all we could hear was the coffee machine hissing in the kitchen. We said as much and she frowned and said 'No we do not have a coffee machine! It is the Howler Monkeys waking up in the forest!'.

Soon enough, with sleep still clearing from bleary eyes and stretchy yawns still belying our drowsiness, we blundered into the vast jungle. It is difficult to adequately describe the sensations of being in the Amazon jungle. The air is thick with noises, calls whistles, howls squeaks and shrieks. Around us butterflies flit by at head height, in the undergrowth animals like the Red Amazon Squirrel bound for cover, Macaws and hawks squawk in the canopy overhead. Around us the wolf whistles of the 'Gentleman bird' (Tinamens) bring to mind ancient dreadful Carry-on films! Even the trees are on the move, the aptly named 'Walking' tree covers up to a meter a year - adjusting it's position to gain as much light as possible.

Spider webs drift down at about head height - some holding single big spiders while other house whole colonies of mini arachnids. On the ground, closer inspection reveals rivers of Leaf Cutter Ants flowing along carrying miniature boats of leaves along micro-motorways to their congested, milling metropolis nests. At times the path gives way to dubious bridges and steps, or simply disappeared into sporadic quagmires, emerging on the other side bedraggled but still in tact! At one point we were ushered to a stop and shown a Puma print still fresh enough to be clearly visible in the mud. Further on we saw the scores down the side of a Jaguars scratching post - As the marks started way above head height - it gave some indication of the size of the beast!

Once at our destination we clambered into the canoe and were royally rowed around by Norie and Doug. The lake was calm and placid… apart from the two girls at in front of us, who in deference to the stunning beauty of this tropical lake housing rare otters, ancient dinosaur birds and huge cats - insisted on talking about bloody wedding dresses! Duh!

As we drifted up the side of the lake we approached a gaggle of awkward heavy birds clambering and flapping in the trees near the Lake-side. These turned out to be Howitzins, a peculiar cousin of the ancient dino-birds like the Archeoptarix With claws on their wings they re one of the only links back the dinosaurs - and are particular to this area of the world. With mini and some not so mini spiders bombing all round the boats and over the occasional leg and the odd macaws flying over head we enjoyed the relative cool of the lake before heading back inland.

Once back on dry land we saw an enormous nine hundred year old tree and then headed back towards the complex passing CoraCoras (a large Jungle hawk), knob trees, Giant ferns and more stunningly beautiful butterflies and Moths.

By the time we emerged blinking into the sunlight from the Jungles gloom it was afternoon, the sun was brilliantly bright and we were all ravenous, tired and sweaty! Walking 10 km through jungle forest for 7 hours - in wellies - really takes it out of you - trust me on this!

A swiftly bolted meal later, we had the afternoon to ourselves to relax and get over the days excursions. With the sun brilliantly hot, we took it easy, relaxing and reading through the afternoon. As sunset came, following a wander around the herb and medicine garden - which housed one plant completely matted with hairy caterpillars, Gil and I left Rachel taking it easy and wandered to sunset point to watch - well - the sunset. Below us dozens of Sand-martins wheeled above the river while the Jungle around us settled down and daytime noises gently gave way the nightshift.

We wandered back to the hut to change and pack before heading out to the dining room for a talk about Caimen. By 7 p.m. we were walking down the jetty to boat for what would prove to be one of the highlights of the trip: the night-time river Caimen hunt. On route we passed a tarantula nest complete with Pink Toed bird eating spider sitting atop the webbed construction. Again it's things like this that really heighten the senses out here, - I mean - a tarantula - there like it's the most natural thing in the world! Well admittedly it IS but that’s the point - it IS here but not back in Newcastle!

Having wobbled onto the boat in the cool evening air we settled down to take in the night-time amazon river show! Our boat chugged along the river while Norie shone the bright beam along the water looking for the tell tale red eye gleam of Caimen. Before long we homed in on a distant gleam which on closer inspection proved to be the face of a young Caimen, sitting breathlessly still at the edge of the river bank. Eventually he ducked out of sight and we moved on.

The same scenario was repeated with a good dozen or so more Caimen. Homing in on them from a distance and then drifting as close as we dared to the animals. Some ducked out of sight when we got too near but others stayed put, putting up with our presence even when we got to within inches of them. At one point the beam of light picked out a huge bat - about the size of a large crow - cruising over the river using the light as a free food source! Further on we found a Caimen sitting one a rock outcrop - as we neared it slipped down the rock face and smoothly oozed into the river with barely a ripple!

Although Caimen will grow to a length of up to 15 ft, the animals we saw tonight topped out at about 3ft - many of them were very young. Their motionless rigidity in the face of a boat-full of tourists oohing and Ahhing, cameras whirring and flashes going off was quite astonishing. Not least in the light of the knowledge that some of these animals could one day be big enough to pose a real threat to ourselves. We must have had about 45 minutes on the river but for a time it seemed that time stood still while we drifted from one miracle to another. Eventually we drifted to the middle of the river and cut the engines.

Sitting silent and wonderous in midstream, we just took in the fantastic sounds of the night-time jungle. Frogs and toads maintained a constant chorus along the river banks while further into the Jungle, the night-world maintained an ongoing overture. Looking out across the river, the moon was just rising, peeping through the tops of the trees then clearing the canopy's confines, it set a silver fire lose in the sky! Peeping in and out of the night clouds, the ripples of moonlight cast a magical nocturnal spectrum across the ethereal Inca terraced sky - holding us all in awe filled enchantment.

My words can never do adequate justice to the lucid beauty of the moment, perhaps our hushed reverence was evidence enough of the evenings effect on us. Our thoughtful silence was soon blown away on the way back to the main hut when we were shown a viper in the central compound. We were assured that the foot and a half long snake was in fact fully poisonous and rarely seen this close to populated areas.

Once back at the main hut following food and beer, as the spell of the river relaxed and chit chat and beer fueled normality ruled once more, Gil and I watched the world famous gaming shark Rachel - win the 'Post it game' - a game cunningly christened in relation to it's use of - wait for it - Post it notes! Also worthy of note was an ENORMOUS moth plopped on the visitors signing book - which - when I finally managed to look in it still had my entry from 1999!

Had a wee wander out to check out a couple more tarantula nests and try and entice them out, but they would only shown their legs! - Then back to the hut to reflect on a stunning day to the soundtrack of the night-time Jungle symphony.

Puerto Malderado

A night in heaven, a day in Purgatory

The day started harmlessly enough. We finished our packing went to get some breakfast before wobbling back onto the boat. There wasn't much chat to be had as it was still 7am and suitably early! About half way back to PM we got a lovely view of a Capybara - sitting quite gormlessly on the sand bank - apparently in a world of it's own! With a couple of minutes to drift closer and get some photos we charged on down the river to dry land and the airport.

This is where our problems began, having booked ourselves through and negotiated tax etc we sat quite peacefully in the departure lounge and noticed that there didn't seem to be much in the way of plane activity going on…

Then we were told that the plane would be late due to a delay at Cusco.

Then we were told that the plane hadn't even left Lima - to get to Cusco - to be delayed!

Then the inevitable happened and we heard that the flight was cancelled full stop.

Bugger.

Thankfully our cloud had a silver lining in the form of one of the jungle guides Bertrund - who had to wait to pick up some tourists from the non-existent incoming flight. As we were stuck so was he - because he still had to stay until the plane DID arrive. So he helped us find the most dreadful hovel in Puerto to stay in. We were given the option of £20 per night or £2… As we didn't really want to be here anyway - we weren't too keen on spending a lot of money - so we opted for the tight option…

'Bienvenue!, Wilkommen! y Ola!! a Tambo de Oro' an absolute toilet of a hotel in the delightful Puerto Malderado - The intoxicating atmosphere of the fume filled streets can be easily access via the windowless windows, which also allow the visitor the chance to experience via the gift of hearing the exciting noises of the Jungle towns night-life!!!

Thrill to the sound of mopeds being driven through the hotel foyer!

Experience the sensation of dirty fumey gritty phlegm gathering in your throat overnight!

Hover over the dubious toilets!!

Our barely adequate beds come equipped with four legs and a base!!! - (mattress optional)

The rooms also come fully decorated with a table!!!

And why not try your hand at negotiating our thrilling streets, where the drivers will be happy to cheerfully mow you into next week, while our group moped display team will amaze you with their amazing 5 man moped stunts!!! (I kid you not!).

Having sorted ourselves accommodation wise, we ventured out into the filthy streets to find a phone to tie up some lose ends. Leading to a fantastic aural pantomime with the CoriHuasi Hotel:

'Hello?'

'Ello?'

'Hello, I need to ask you to cancel an appointment YOU made for US with another hotel'

'So ssorry Sssignor - iss no rooms forrr you tonight!'

'No, wait, hold on, I don't want to stay tonight'

Si Si is no rrrrooms'

'No wait - we stayed there a couple of nights ago and you made a booking FOR us but SOMEWHERE else.'

'No No No - Isss no rrrroom here tonight'

'But I don't WANT a room!!'

'Si - is no room!'

'Arggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!'

Eventually after half an hour and about 30 sols we managed to get a hold of our Fairy Godmother - (Clare) who sorted things out for us. We then treated ourselves to some lunch (well it was 3.30 - we were a little hungry by this point having last eaten at 6.30am! we went to the Wasi Lodge which was originally one of the options for us to stay - rather than go down to the Explorers Inn. I'm so glad we didn't stay there - Not that the complex wasn't nice enough - it just didn't feel like the jungle we'd seen further down the river.

After lunch we had a mooch around the plaza watching Peruvian beer bellies and sitting on freshly painted benches! - Oh and being chased by the friendly neighbourhood mutts too! With nothing much to do we wound our way back to hotel room and waited for afternoon to turn to evening.

Once night had fallen we wandered out to a restaurant called 'Chez Maggies' which seemed to be the only place nearly clean enough to dine at! Met up with Bertrund and chatted about his work at Explorers Inn. As night drew on we wandered back to the hotel to pray for tomorrow to come.

The night's peace was constantly interrupted by car horns, drunks and that little shit down stairs driving his moped through the hotel foyer all night. B*st**d!

(Note: It is a shame that we spent our time in PM wishing time away - but the surroundings were just so dire, added to our minds being elsewhere - trying to work out how to re-arrange the rest of the holiday - we just wanted to get out and get on! )

Puerto Malderado - Cuzco

A Wish away…

Woke. Shat. Showered. Dressed and left Tambo de Oro as quickly as possible with only a hand full of bed-bug bites for souvenirs.

Wobbled our way down to the Explorers Inn lodge to meet up with everyone else heading out to the airport - so we were all now in the same boat - except that they had had an extra day in Paradise while we'd just endure a night in a toilet hotel!

Got to the airport and negotiated a very tense and uptight check in.

The Tans staff (when they finally arrived) seemed unsure of what would be done with the previous days stranded passengers and we felt very invisible indeed!. Our saving grace was the van driver who generally took care of the tickety type things. He barged and haggled and complained and weedled and whined and finally seemed to have done enough to guarantee us seats on the first flight out (if it ever came!).

Finally with tickets in hand we wandered over to the café for a filling breakfast of 'Choc-sodas' (- a kind of chocolate cracker) and juice before heading back through to the departure lounge - de-ja-vu!).

Our spirits were not helped by an announcement that the flight would be delayed (here we go again!). We are now sat in state of agitated impatience waiting to see what will happen to us next. We are all really uptight and hardly anyone can raise a smile.

Just rang Clare - Tim Henman has just been knocked out of Wimbledon.

Thankfully our plane DID arrive (over an hour and a half late – okay then – a day and hour and a half late).

We did get back to Cusco.

And the sense of relief was almost palpable in the air. For the first time in 24 hours we all broke out in a grin once we where on the plane and we all allowed ourselves to relax a little. And looked forward to sorting out accommodation in Cusco.

Fate is a funny old thing - after trying a couple of other hotels - we decided to ask Hostel Corihuasi if they could suggest anywhere - but as look would have it - the very same flight that had stranded us in Puerto had necessitated the cancellation of the another booking - therefore there had one last room for three people available - That'll do very nicely thanks!

After lunch we took the afternoon at our leisure, wandering around the various stalls and drinking in the delightfully laid back peace of Cusco (which, after Puerto's filthy exhaust ridden dustiness made for an ideal tonic). Back at the hotel we all showered (separately that is!) and wallowed in the deliciously hot spray - allowing it to blast off the grime, dust and tension of the previous 24 hours.

Once cleaned and relaxed, we ventured out to a restaurant of Rachel's whim - called 'Le Mystique' which proved to be a huge success. The night was possibly made all the sweeter by the still fresh memories of PM, safe in the knowledge that we were no longer there! Instead, we were sat in these comfortable surroundings enjoying a fine meal (Alpaca!) good beer/wine and even dessert and good cheer made for a great night!

And then there were two…

Up at 5.45am to see Rachel off on her own adventure: a two day Inca trail to Machupiccu. Though part of me was a little jealous, the other side of me kept pulling our memories of 'Chocolate Pancake' fields of alfresco conveniences (or shitting off a rock as it's also known), food poisoning and altitude sickness and told me to stop being so wistful!

So having dumped Rachel on her bus and taken in the serene early morning haze of the plaza in it's pre-dawn peace - we buggered off back to bed for a proper lie in!

Yeah, yeah ! I know it's a sin - but we ARE on holiday! Eventually re-emerged about 10.00am and after much stalling and finding excuses not to take the bull by the horns, we finally plucked up the courage to contact the tourist police.

Things were not helped by the Tourist Advice bureau and the Travellers Help people both giving conflicting advice, so we decided just to go and see what happened.

The stairs to the Tourist Police station stank of piss and didn't especially bode very well. We were ushered into an office and told to 'sit!' while we waited. During this intermission we had a chat to a group whose predicament put our own in some perspective. Having arrived at Lima they went out to the road to hail a taxi - where they were held up at gunpoint! With a gun pointing at you - when the owner tells you to drop your bags - I guess you do what you're told. So here they were in Cusco wearing all they had. I really hope they managed to get things sorted.

The Policeman who dealt with us was thankfully English speaking and seemed to believe us. He took down some details and then accompanied us back to Hotel (presumably to check that we didn't have a video camera there! - but under the guise of giving us some advise on how to look after our possessions!. He left leaving us feeling a little more relieved and told us to pick up the report the following day. Feeling better for having at least started to sort the camera thing out, we ventured back into the sunshine for some (we felt) well earned lunch.

At this point I will just stop myself to import the exact location of our Hotel - I had already explained that our room was a small Inca Trail from the hotel lobby - but the actual hotel itself was plonked halfway up the mountain to Saquyhuaman. Going down to town was a steep 5 minute walk down a thin alley / road. Coming back up the hill was a hyper-ventilatory red faced, huff and puff affair. Except that Rachel seemed permanently capable of running up the hill towing a lorry behind her. Cow!

So back to lunch - and one of the most delicious meals I have ever enjoyed while in Peru! - A couple of nights ago, Rachel had expressed an interest in a side street bar/restaurant called 'Los Peros' so following our charge to investigate. We ventured in for a bite to eat. I would never have imagined that a meal so simple as soup and potato wedges could be so delicious but this must have been enchanted or something. It was absolutely glorious (bear in mind that I'm not one to go over board for culinary delights!). So much so, that we were seriously contemplating pissing the whole day up the wall and just staying put with a few beers and some wedge top ups! Added to that they were playing some fantastic laid back jazz which perfectly reflected our mood and sense of relief from the mornings adventures.

However, eventually we did manage to pull ourselves away and venture back out into the hustle and bustle of Cusco's streets. After another quick circuit of the plaza's stalls we headed up the hill - past the hotel to Saquyhuaman. It was an easy, un-rushed 40 minute climb to the foot of ruins, where we were stopped by a security guard who asked to see our tickets. See if you can make sense of the following exchange:

'Your tickets please'

'Here you are (hands tickets over) we actually came here a couple of days ago and wanted to come back, we were told that we may have to pay a sur-charge to get in again?'

'These tickets are old!'

'Yeah! - Like I just explained we came here a couple of days ago we are happy to pay again'

'You cannot get in with this'

'Yeah we know - can we pay to get in?'

'You must pay to get in'

'We were told it would be $3…?'

'You must pay to get in'

'HOW MUCH?'

'$6 each'

'Are you mad!? - We've already paid once - we only want to see the ruins again - not purchase them!'

'Do you have a ticket?'

'Yes. But. We've. Used. It. Before. We. Just. Want. To. Go. Back. In!'

'But you have ticket yes?'

'IT'S. RIGHT. THERE!!!!!'

'oh right! - in you go then'

'?!?!'

Gillian then smiled sweetly and pushed me on before the guard had time to replay the incident and change his mind!

Visiting the ruins under our own steam and without an organised itinerary to adhere to, we had an opportunity to take our ease here and get more of a feeling for the place. With time and control on our side, we were free to explore the ruins at our leisure. Added to this it was still fairly early in the afternoon so there weren't too many tourist around, so the fort felt more serene and laid back. Crossing over to the far side of the ruins, we climbed the sloping terraces and gazed out across the ruins to the impressive walls, zigzagging in front of us. Down below in the field between the walls, a lone figure played tunes on some pipes and the sounds drifted and echoed around the ruins with a haunting charm. Finding a sun-trap out of the wind with a glorious view over the ruins we settled down and just let the magic of the place wash over us. Beautiful!

After an hour or so we started heading back to the town - but not before some old woman started chasing Gillian for trying take a picture of her Llama! - Well WE didn't know it was her llama - it was just hanging about eating and defecating!

After a rest and a shower we checked out a restaurant with Clare's endorsement called Greens - situated in the 'Sans Blas' area roughly 8 million miles from the hotel. And indeed the restaurant was a huge success and provided the perfect easy going hassle free end to a pretty much, hassle free day.

Sacred Valley

Struggled out of bed early, to bomb it down to the tours place to wait 40 bloody minutes for our chuffing bus. See - I still maintain that English sense of trying be places on time and expecting everyone else to be! - Well not in Peru chummy!

So we finally boarded the bus and were treated to a couple of laps of Cusco's one way systems and back streets - but for no apparent reason other than to waste another 10 minutes in the town. Presently however we climbed up past Saquayhuaman and on into the Sacred Valley.

Having been halfway down the valley before, I had some idea of what to expect, but the Sacred Valley is so breathtakingly beautiful that all the sights and sounds still hit me like the first time. Cresting the mountain tops at about 4.500m we began the gentle descent into the valley proper dipping down below the impressive mountain peaks following the flowing roads winding down the Andean slopes. After about 45 minutes we pulled into a market town allowing for 15 minutes shopping and toilet breaks. So Gill acquired some place mats and I acquired an empty bladder.

There appears to be some scam going on here where old women hang out by the dump houses trying to convince all users that they have to pay… using the reasoning that if could piss outside for free I wasn't go to pay for the pleasure of going into a smelly outhouse to do so - I treated the woman to a broad grin and just went straight in. In hindsight I half wish I'd just gone outside… kind of a warts n' all toilet this one.

Back on the bus, we headed on to the famous market town of Pisac to see how much money we could spend. The Pisac market never ceases to amaze me. A Huge sprawling mass of outdoor stalls the size of a moderate village, the air full of invitations to investigate wears and trinkets and of course 'chompas!':

'Signor! Signor! Chompas! Yes! Isss good, Extrrra larrrrge forrr you I think yes?'

As I had a personal plan to get me a nice chess set (I don't know where the whim came from! - I just really fancied that as my 'bring home treat') so I dragged Gillian round countless stalls looking at hundreds of sets that probably all looked the same! Prices varied as did some of the paint-work but the majority of the ones in my price range were all so good that I had a hard time choosing. In the end I settled on one and on asking the price, was so amazed at such a reasonable price that I didn't even haggle! Elsewhere we picked up a couple of bowls and managed to resist various other temptations - See - it's all very well buying all these ace pots and bowls but what you have to bear in mind in that you still have to transport them thousands of miles to get home! So heavier in shopping bags and lighter in pockets we got back on the coach and headed on further down the valley.

A few miles further down the valley and we stopped off for lunch. In the midst of this awesome trench running through the Andean mountains we were directed to a beautiful garden dotted with tables and chairs. There we were treated to a three course buffet - alfresco, with fine food and waiter service, blissful sun smiling down and the Andean hills looking down benignly on us from all sides. A bizarrely beautiful time in a surreal nirvana! On getting back on the coach we found out that not all of us were so well treated. Those who had not booked their lunch were basically dumped off at a road side shop to have some coke and crisps! Whereas Gil and I hadn't been given the option of opting out of lunch, the others, it seems, weren't given to chance to opt in and they were not best chuffed! We on the other hand were stuffed and ready for a nap!

Next stop was a farmers house (they were out) where we were granted access to the main utility rooms. Of interest here was the kitchen, in which were huddled a dozen or so guinea pigs and a couple of kittens - all snuggling for warm by a huge stone oven. - oh the delicious irony! Guinea Pigs keeping warm by the stove! Also, the guide showed us some meteorite rock which was astonishingly heavy. Apparently the Andes receives a disproportionately large amount of meteor strikes.

Moving on, we finally entered the village and fort ruins of Ollaytaytambo: the real reason behind our journey here. We briefly came through here 2 years ago but never got the chance to see it properly (boxed into a bus as we were on our way the Inca trail).

Quick History lesson: - Ollaytaytambo was the point at which the Spanish forces were finally halted by the Incas. If the Spanish had won - they would have gone on to find Machupicchu and down to the Jungles, as the fort guards the entrance to three valleys - The Sacred Valley, The Machupicchu Valley and the jungle valley. So the cultural and historical significance of the site can not be underestimated.

Basically Ollyantatambo is a huge wall, an outcrop on the mountainside all but blocking access further down the Sacred Valley to Machupicchu. There is access to the side but to continue - any intruder would need to be sure of being safe from attack from the fort terraces above. Steps leads up the hillside / fortress walls leading up through banks of terraces. With every terraced increment, the importance of the fort is made more clear, providing increasingly impressive sights down all the valleys and allowing early warning well in advance of anyone approaching the area from miles around.

A breathless half later we are gathered at the top standing next to a 300 ton flat stone and trying not to wander how the hell the Incas got that great stone up there. Around us falcons flitted between crags and buzzard and vulture calls echoed around the ruins. The ruins are absolutely stunning in themselves but it is from the ruins that some of the wonders of the area are brought to light.

On the mountain side facing us, terraces and steps lead the way to outposts positioned impossibly high on the precipitous cliff ledges, some cunningly disguised and invisible to the untrained eye. Others are the size of a church and again beg the question - how did that get there?

Then we were shown the face. Gazing over the Jungle valley side of the mountain directly opposite us, a rock outcrop is unmistakably in the shape of a bearded mans face. This has been accentuated by a series of turrets built on top of the head effectively giving the figure a crown. No one knows for sure if the face is a natural phenomenon exploited by the Inca people or a fully man made sculpture. If we don't know now, we may well never know - but perhaps more intriguing still, is the fact that the face is unquestionably western. The nose is hooked and the face sports a great beard (Andean people have little / no facial hair). The Inca people, we understand, were entirely cut off from western culture before the Conquistadors turned up - so what would possess the Inca people to sculpt a face so unquestionably European?.. or maybe they had access to other continents long before the European conquests…

The other question left unanswered is - regardless of cultural likeness, what is the face supposed to be? Suggestions include Huanococha (the first Inca), Saturn, Mercury, The Devil, God but no one actually knows. Or if they do they are keeping it quiet back here the whole issue seems a little un-important but sat on the fortress terraces gazing out to a face the size of a castle staring out to across the Andean hills, the who's, why's and what if's make for an intriguing conundrum!

The whole thing was awe inspiring and thought provoking - but surrounded, as we were, by milling throngs of other tourists, we had precious little chance to immerse ourselves in the wonder of the place! - Soon we were heading back onto the coach fighting our way past locals trying to sell us moonshine! (Along the valley, houses and shops have red flags outside them - this means that they have moonshine for sale. And it's VERY strong!) Once back on board we bade farewell to Ollaytaytambo and heading back along the valley then, striking out we began our ascent to the roof of the Sacred Valley.

It took about half an hour to climb up out of the beautiful valley floor up the dizzying heights of the breath-taking mountain plateaux. Just enough time to fall asleep in fact.

So I woke up just as the coach crested the final ridge and broke onto the top of the mountain. Near the sky top town of 'Chinchira'.

Looking out and around us was almost a Lillyputian event. The enormous mountains that dominate and overlook the valley were now all around us and far below the 'Rio Urubamba' crawled its way along the valley trench. Stretching down to the mountain sides, fields and crops populated the gentler sloping hills like some huge lumpy patchwork quilt! With the sun fairly low in the sky, a beautiful serene glow held everything in a gentle hazy cradle. The whole time and place seemed to have an almost liquid quality to it!

Of course it wasn't long before our romanticised revelry was besieged by the locals looking to sell us all those things we really never ever wanted. Trinkets, pots, dubious looking food and something so ugly as to escape classification. The little girls were the worst as they really over-play the pathetic hurt part to a disturbing extreme:

The following example should be understood to be all one noise - one word whinging into the other broken only by high pitched whines

'Oooooh-meeester-one-so-ol.-Pleeeeese-meeeester-is-only-one-so-ol,-meeeester…'

Obviously this was all far too heartbreaking to bear… so we told them to bugger off and bug someone else!

We had a walk up to the old market plaza (The steps at our altitude of over 4000 ft were NOT much fun) and wandered around the stalls desperately trying to avoid direct eye contact with the vendors while they called out their wears to us. I had a hankering for an Alpaca wool jumper but they are all too small for me here - we did find a couple that were the right size but Gillian kindly pointed out that I looked like a right Charlie in it - so I had to let that one go. Also tried out a huge flutey thing with a view to taking it home and forever talking about learning to play it some time. But while the stall holder was getting some beautiful noises out of it - I only managed a few wet farts and a lot of dribble down my chin… some things are best left to the experts!

However half an hour and a small rug later we were piling back onto the bus. As the sun slipped behind the mountain peaks and darkness descended we were all just about ready to get back to Cusco and maybe catch a wee nap on the coach in our contented drowsy happy exhaustion. I suppose therefore, it was almost destined that we should have a blow out 20 minutes outside Cusco and have to wait on the goodwill of another coach to take us all on board. Thankfully we only had to wait about 5 - 10 minutes before a good Samaritan picked us up and we dropped back down into town of Cusco.

After such a happy and breathtakingly beautiful day I would normally be ready for a nap and rest before anything else but with the holiday drawing to a close we are tourists with a purpose. So after a quick wash and change we ventured straight back out into the town to the Police Station to pick up our Police Report. Thankfully it was waiting there for us and although I felt a little uncomfortable at disturbing the duty officer from his 'Dogtanian and the three Muskerhounds' - (no honestly!) cartoon, it wasn't long before we were heading back out into the evening air (away from those piss-stinking stairs).

Even now with all our chores completed we weren't free to relax - I had a job to do. A task I had been meaning to accomplish all holiday and hadn't managed to get around to tackling. With us returning to Lima tomorrow, tonight was effectively my last chance. It was now or never. And Having failed in my quest the last time I was here I knew it was something I HAD to achieve. The psychological scars have remained with me since Claire's guinea pig widdled on me two years ago - the only way to beat this mental affliction and satiate my morbid curiosity was to take the bull by the horns and grapple with the inner tormentor.

Never in all my life have I managed to gibber as in the paragraph above - Basically I promised myself that tonight I would try a little something different for dinner. So leaving Gill at the entrance to the 'Kusi Kui' - or the 'Happy Guinea Pig', I ventured inside…

Once sat down and ordered - I contented myself with writing out my journal and keeping half an ear out for the Peruvian band - banging out a hat-full of very passable tunes. After a fairly long wait and a couple of beers however my dinner was brought to me. As the waiter walked across the floor the restaurant went deathly quiet while everyone oggled at my plate and whispered horrified mumblings to each other.

Well come on! - You don't go into Kentucky Fried Chicken and fall over with surprise to find someone eating chicken, it's not entirely unknown to see a cup of coffee in Starbucks Coffee houses and Burgers have been known to be found in Burger King. So… WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU EXPECT TO FIND IN THE HAPPY GUINEA PIG!?!?

Admittedly though it did look pretty bizarre. Roasted, the animal was served on a bed of roast potatoes and chillies and was stuffed with spinach. It was cooked whole, the head and claws retained (allegedly to ensure that you are not being fed rat! - although I rather think the locals love to try and disgust the tourists) and a half tomato perched on it's head at a jaunty angle by way of a perverse hat!

First things first and the waiter instantly asked if I wanted a photo taken. What a silly question - OF COURSE I wanted a photo taken! Then I had the joy of trying to eat the thing. The legs and skin provided most of the edible matter, much of the rest being bones and claws!!! Taste wise the meal was a non event with the meat tasting like a very old and tired chicken - but then again every miscellaneous meat tastes of chicken! - All in all the meal was worth it for the experience but it's not something I would readily do again. I must confess to a moment of doubt as to whether I could actually eat the thing - as it looks er very - dead meaty. But that said if I couldn't bring myself to eat it just because it looked dead then maybe I ought to revise my eating habits… However I managed to set about devouring the beast suitably and before long I was replete and ready for the bill. Gill and a freshly returned Rachel called in to say hi - Gil - steadfastly staring at anything else other than my plate, Rachel, meanwhile gawping incongruously at the remains before me.

Eventually - my curiosity and appetite satiated, I headed back the Hostel with some beers and snacks for Gill and Rachel as I understood they hadn't eaten - while I was gorging on pets! When I got back Gil was un-fed and Rachel was too tired and sick (Incas revenge!) to manage much. I had the courtesy to feel guilty enough to go out with Gil to try and find somewhere to eat but there was no-where forthcoming so we just slunk back to the hostel with a couple more beers and some snacks.

Rachel seemed to be in good spirits although a smattering (sorry!) of food poisoning had dogged her all day and had apparently necessitated a midnight alfresco toilet stop! I guess though, that Rachel's tales of the Inca Trail are her own - you'd have to ask her what she thought!

The rest of the evening was spent packing for tomorrows return to Lima and planning early morning forays into town to buy useless bits and pieces and presents.

Tans - AGAIN! aaarrrggghhhhhh!!!

We're sat here in Cusco airport scribbling at my leisure. It is 1.25pm. We have been here since 10.30am. Our flight is missing, assumed - somewhere else, alleged late, feared - cancelled. The morning was a mishmash of failed shopping attempts (non of the shops were open before 10.30!) and a tour of Cusco's back streets on route to the airport. We are waiting with baited - if increasingly pessimistic breath to see if we will get back to Lima today. Talk is currently that if we do make it back to Lima today it won't be before tea time! - If we're lucky. We were treated to a free lunch in the airport café where Gillian and Rachel were subjected to interesting looks when they explained that they were vegetarians. We kind of befriended some friendly yanks you proceeded to tell us all about themselves and ask Rachel if she had come out to Peru to find a husband!!?!

While waiting for our flight we also saw the bloke who sat in front on us on the flight from Europe over to Lima - We hid from him because I had a hard time dealing with him as he never smiled, ever. Every time I made a light hearted comment he would stare into my soul looking for sincerity and failing to notice any humour. He caught up with us anyway though… if this were a sitcom script, we would probably have swapped addresses and met up next year.

So at 16.24 we finally shuffled onto flight 238 from Cusco to Lima and landed back in the Peruvian capital about an hour later. Luggage reclaim was relatively painless and at 6.00pm, eight and a half hours after arriving at Cusco for a one hour flight, we crashed back into Clare's!

Although we were all planning on taking Clare, Neil and John out for a meal in an attempt to say thank-you for everything - we were returned to find Clare half way through a beautiful meal and John preparing the beer!

We had a fantastic night just relaxing and catching up, enjoying each others company and swapping tales and news.

A cup of wine and thou!

After a gloriously indulgent lie in, we roused ourselves to partake in some of Johns 'Start the day - the right way!' porridge, checked our finances and then ventured out into the old centre of Lima to take in the Plaza de Armas - which by Cusco standards isn't so beautiful, and to check out the San Francisco Monastery Catacombs.

The Monastery was a straight forward enough tour - all in Spanish - but the tour of the crypts containing the remains of 1000s of Peru's dead made for an intriguing experience. The skeletons in the catacombs have been er - re-arranged. That is to say that there are boxes and boxes of for example phema bones, then stalls of arm bones and so on. Quite who, how and why felt the need to divide the body remains up and house them such as they are - frankly makes the mind boggle!

One pit in particular went from interesting to macabre - not say artistic…

A circular pit about 10 ft deep with a diameter of maybe 3 - 4 meters was filled with an er - 'arrangement' of skulls and phemas. In the centre a circular collection of skulls gave way to an out-stretched ring of limbs (like the petals on a daisy) this was encircled by another ring of skulls followed by more limbs and so on. Like some kind of 'Greiger' nightmare-scape the whole experience made for a strange effect: half awe at the realisation that you are in the presence of multiple deaths - but also wonder and incredulous puzzlement at the sight of such a bizarre artistic piece.

Once out of the crypts and back in Limas watery sunshine we headed back to Mira Flores to fob around after Gil and Rachel while they visited every shop and in one instance almost bought the whole damn place! I was twice approached by a pure stereotype of a Peruvian drug pusher trying to sell me cocaine:

'Hey Meeester - you like Grrrass , cowcaine jesss? Gooood sheeeet!'

- ah - ha!

Our lunch was hijacked by two of the worst street musicians ever who proceeded to butcher all life out of some innocent tracks - worst offence being 'Hey Jude' - the decision the play the piece in two separate - unrelated pitches made our food curl and the beer bottles vibrate!

Eventually we made it back to Clare's - but not before Gill and Rachel had acquired 8,000,000 coasters and John had been accosted by some VERY friendly shop assistants who seemed very keen for him to investigate their store! We were granted an hours respite and showering time before heading back out, to visit an old friend.

My overwhelming memories of Ruby where of a slight, petite, forthright and determined package who could out haggle Peru's most accomplished Arthur Daly and also did the Inca trail with a child's sleeping bag! So to see her utterly unchanged was a re-assuring pleasure. Her pad is a beautiful place about a five minute drive from Clare's. Neil gave us a lift and so we had the joy of cruising the streets of Lima in a knackered out old banger, surrounded by enthusiastic if utterly incompetent Peruvian drivers. While we were stopped at some lights in the middle lane (of a three lane stretch of road), a bus came hurtling from out of no-where in the central overtaking lane, cut across two lanes of traffic virtually on two wheels and sped off into the night - while the lights were still on red. - Like Neil asked 'What the *%&! was that all about!?!'

The standard of living for our peers over here still makes me laugh so when Ruby explained that our meal had been prepared by her cleaner / chamber maid, it tickled me pink! Having had a day (pretty much) without travel issues and itineraries it made for a gloriously indulgent evening just to help ourselves to countless beers and wines, eat lovely food, munch on countless nibbles and relax in the luxury of comfortable company.

Once back at Clare's, bed was not to far away although I had a nasty feeling that I may have had a bit of a sniffle coming on. The nights sleep was to confirm this…

The littlest hobos - once more

Got up late following a poor nights sleep. Last nights sniffle is growing… Johns wonder porridge and William Shatner on Star Trek for breakfast. We spent most of the day at Clare's packing, unpacking, re-packing, checking monies and trying to pick up dubious films on the TV (they were all un-scramble-able). Rachel whisked John back off to Mira Flores to spend her last few sols on presents while Gil and I took things easy and tried to make sure that everything was packed and everything sorted. We were supposed to have a full massage to relax us for the journey home but the woman never turned up, so that was that stiffed!

As the afternoon wore on - journey time approached and we all became a-little more uptight. Not least because my little sniffle was fast mutating into the bubonic plague. With Clare and Neil back from work and our taxi hour an hour away Neil decided that we all needed a Pisco Sour to complete our Peruvian experience. So the kitchen was pretty much turned upside down and our Piscos arranged allowing roughly 10 minutes to drink before we had to leave! - That said they were VERY nice.

Goodbye hugs and farewell cuddles.

In the taxi back to the airport we were all full of thoughts of adventures past and a days travel still ahead - so there wasn't too much banter to be had! All the airport type things pretty much took care of themselves and as the plane company WASN'T Tans there where no delays and we soon shuffled on board - myself dripping and dribbling snot everywhere and blowing up a cloud a toilet roll dust - every-time I blew my nose!

The rest of the journey back was restless and from my point of view - snot filled. The films were OK and my back didn't hurt as much as I feared it might, but with my cold in full flow, I got no sleep. When I went to the bathroom in the dead of night, my eyes were so bloodshot that there was no white to my eyes at all. This REALLY shook me up - so although I couldn't sleep, I made myself sit down with my eyes closed for a couple of hours just to try and rest them! Aruba gave us a half hour midnight stroll but the rest of the flight was un-remarkable (apart from the fact that we flew half way around the world that is).

Once landed at Amsterdam we walked the length and breadth of the airport to find our terminal - then walked back to get a load of duty free / pressies - then I settle down for a rest on the floor at Gill and Rachel's feet like a good cat! Some might say - What a scumbag! And I wouldn't argue - but after 24 hours travel and 48 hours restlessness, with a knackered back and clothes almost capable of walking by themselves - I didn't really care what people might think!

An hour later we descended back to Newcastle's grey rain soaked evening and a sense of relief (at finally being back) and loss (that our holiday was now over) was eclipsed by a desire to get back home, and re-immerse ourselves in normality - and a good stodgy pizza!

It was nice to have a welcome party waiting for us with Clare, Martin and sprog to give us a lift, while Rachel's brother was there to pick her up. Group hugs and goodbyes, a car journey and yet more sniffling dribbly noises (from me) later, we fell back into the house grappling with the everyday once more - Peru and her fine hosts half a world away.