Slimer's Adventures in South America

Today is workers day, a Bolivian Bank Holiday. (Isn't that a contradiction in terms?) We check out of the hotel and catch a local mini bus back to La Paz - 3½ hours for 15 Bs (£1). It's nice and empty, lots of room and we're all admiring the views until we reach the top of the mountain. We drive up into the clouds and are flagged down by a broken down coach. A horde of working women approach us with an insane amount of luggage and sacks and start piling it onto our mini-bus. I exit and help haul the bags onto the roof, doubling the height of the bus, On return to my seat it's shoulder to shoulder, more sacks are pushed on and in and surprisingly agile 60 / 70 year old women scramble over them to cram into all available corners. The driver reaches behind his head, turns on the TV and adjusts the volume by feel alone. A DVD begins to play, only it's half static due to dodgy connections. The women talk loudly and openly get their boobs out to breast feed. It keeps the babies quiet. A couple of bad smelling men squeeze on at the Police check point. Our Bolivian bus is complete!

The bus drops us off at an outer township in La Paz meaning a 8 Bs taxi ride to the centre. Ana & Isabelle from the Uyni tour greet us as we check back into the El Solario hostel - guess where they're staying!? They didn't recognise me with my clean shaven look! We take them to dinner at our favourite Angelo Colonial Cafe. Sean & Monika have their usual early night while Ana, Isabelle and I walk up the road for a drink at the Hard Rock Cafe. We, um, stay for several more than just the one! The place fills up (mainly with Israelis) and turns into a Night Club. Wicked! Time to get our groove on... Bed for 02:30.

Up early at 07:00 to ready myself, today Sean and I are to do some hardcore Single Track Downhill Mountain Biking as seen on the New World Order Volume 6 DVD! Sean is dismayed with my "quick drink" last night. Oh well. We're out with B-Side again and have the same crew, Stephan the driver, Ariel the professional competition rider and Paul, the token British hippie. The tracks are for intermediate / advanced downhill riders (like Sean) - I don't think the crew are too impressed then I tell them I lied on my application form. I'm a complete beginner and never done anything like it before! I mean, how hard can it be?

It's a long windy drive to an altitude of 4,600m where our decent begins - speeding down a dirt track, then off road, over bumps catching air, round a downhill slippery corner where I jam on the front disk brake and find myself leaping head over heels over the handlebars. The extent of the sympathy given is Paul shouting out to the others, "Steve's just done a classic!" I need to move my weight further back behind the seat.

I'm wearing full body armour. I get a feeling I'm going to use it. A bit further on the single track starts - very steep, narrow paths down and along cliff faces, over rocks, boulders, dips and holes. I find picking your line difficult to judge because it all depends on your speed. Too slow when traversing along a slope and your front wheel looses grip, skids and slides down it into the ditch, throwing you off. Too slow into a boulder and the front suspension absorbs all the bikes speed, throwing you over the top. Too fast and everything slides, you miss the turn which usually means pain.

Foolishly I forget to bring water and towards the end of the morning I overheat in the blazing sun and body armour. I exhaust myself at altitude, dehydrate and loose energy. Coming down an amazingly steep zig-zag path with acute corners I loose it, can't find the ground and twist my right ankle. Bollocks. Still I make it back to the van for lunch of fried chicken fast food and pain killers.

We drive to the top of another mountain for the afternoon run. This one is harder, much harder. Same as earlier but with added sheer death drops down the side of 1 foot ridge paths, littered with gaping holes and canyons. These paths are so nasty you would think twice before even walking down them! I can honestly say I was very concerned for my safety (read afraid!) for the first time in a very long time (a decade maybe?). Especially after I came off and mushed up the 3rd finger on my right hand. It swelled up, is bent at a funny angle and looks broken.

Paul says he's genuinely impressed with my riding given it's my first time and says he wouldn't have chosen this as his first track! I'm also pleased that everyone else fell off at some point too (but to a lesser extent). I make it down the mountain, skimmed over a rickety wooden bridge and was greeted with a cold beer. A fantastic day out!

Dinner at Sol y Lunar and Ana & I go for a night cap at Oliver's Travels. I'm sorry to say that due to the heat, altitude, fear, hard work and attentiveness of the day I was exhausted and had to keep it to just the one. I'm up early again tomorrow...

Had a lie in to 07:00 as oppose to 04:30 as a note in the hostel last night informed us that our Jungle flight to Rurrenabaque had changed from 06:50 to 09:20. Due to time constraints I didn't pack for the jungle, rather un-packed for it! i.e. Threw out what I knew I wouldn't need, e.g. sleeping bag, roll mat, etc. That still left me a full 18 Kg pack with all my clothes.

Stepping out of the hostel we were happy to immediately flag down a taxi for 45 Bs but then unhappy when we hit the main road. The taxi was only firing 2 of it's 4 cylinders and was severely underpowered. It's a half hour ride uphill to the airport and we were chugging along being passed by everything. A mini-bus full of passengers attempted to undertake. As it drew level it pulled out to overtake a lorry in front, causing our driver to take evasive action. We swerved into the outside barrier and slammed on the brakes. Our vehicles were so close I was absolutely certain contact had been made. I was wrong, we must have missed each other by an inch or so. Our driver simply blew his horn and shrugged it off. Sean and Monika went quiet in disbelief and I, riding shotgun, considered wearing a seat belt. If it had one. To add insult to injury, the lorry then powered off leaving the mini-bus dithering on the hard shoulder.

Our aeroplane was cool, it looked like a small Lear Jet. 2 single rows of seats (some 30 in total) and a clear view of the cockpit and pilots. i.e. no door, security or otherwise. We take off from the highest commercial airport in the world at 4,100m. Our mere 40 minute flight took us over some mountains before descending to land on a grass strip in the Jungle. As we couldn't see the landing strip it looked like we were crash landing in the tree tops! Opening the cabin door was like opening the door to a furnace. La Paz was a cool 15°C, here, just 40 minutes down the line was a stupidly humid 35°C! I had to take my jumper off.

Amazsonus is the only commercial airline to operate in Rurrenabaque and they have a mini shuttle bus that ferries people the 5 minutes to and from town. Now considering they monopolise the airport I think it's a right cheek they charge 5 Bs for the service. Still, I cough up the 33p. Humph.

We arrived at the Madidi Travel office for 10:30 to find their boat didn't wait for us and that we'd have to wait until 13:00 for the next one. Sean complains. Although it's not their fault our flight had changed, they did know about it yesterday and could have made provisions, especially as we paid to have activities today. Phone calls are made and its agreed it's unfair for us to wait until 14:00 for the boat, a box lunch provided and the boat confirmed to leave at 14:30 though it may be 15:00. We did eventually leave at 16:00.

To while away the time we were given a boat ride up stream for an hour and a half. It was pretty but not much to see. We turned around when we reached the imaginary border to Madidi National Park. There was a hut on the side of the river. As we approached park rangers sauntered out to watch us - we're not allowed in the park. Our driver taunted them and kept motoring on. The rangers drew guns. We kept motoring. Sean wasn't happy and nervously shouted at our driver to "Volver!", "Return!" We didn't. Sean shouted again. We did. The rangers holstered their weapons and returned to their hut, presumably to eat donuts.

Rurrenabaque is a tiny town and only appeared on the map some 10 years ago and exists solely as a tourist gateway to the Bolivian Jungle. It is remote, despite the 40 minute flight from La Paz, it's also an 18 hour bus ride. It has a feel of lawlessness about it. I like it. Had I not been travelling with Sean & Monika, who are short on time (hence the flights in and out), I would have stayed for longer.

Being low on local Bolivian cash I go on a mission to change a travellers cheque. Obviously the bank doesn't so I'm directed to a hostel instead. On the way the heavens open and a down pour ensues. There is no shelter. I get drenched. I wander round the deserted hostel for a good 10 minutes looking for staff. I find one and get directed to the Chain Saw shop next door! It all seems good, I like the exchange rate, I photocopy my passport, sign the cheque and only then am I informed he has no Bolivianos. Instead he hands me a $100 US note and demands some 30 Bs commission. As I've already counter signed the cheque it's now useless to me and I'm held hostage to his demands. He has me over a barrel. Begrudgingly I hand over the last of my local groats for the US note. Damn it. Luckily, but for yet another commission fee, the bank changes US notes.

The boat trip to the lodge took 2½ hours down stream. We only grounded in the shallows twice! The driver had a stick with him which he uses to punt with every now and again to check the water depth. We arrived at our landing for sunset which meant the next ½ hour jungle hike was in the dark. Yes, I had a head torch but the guide took it!

Sean, Monika and I share a jungle hut. The camp has no electricity, just candles, but does have running cold water for the tap, toilet and shower. The hut is posh, is on stilts and has see through Mosi-webbing for walls. Sean breaks out his iPod and speakers and delivers Guns'n'Roses "Welcome to the Jungle". It's a 5 / 10 minute walk to the main lodge for a candle lit dinner. We ask for a midnight walk but told there's no point because it's a full moon and they'd be no animals about. So we resign ourselves to listening to the grunting ruckus of pet pigs outside instead.

We get up in the dark, dress and make our way to the lodge for 06:00 for our early morning walk. We're a bit dismayed that our guides don't turn up until 06:30. Still, in the mean time we chase pigs and I find some bright green glow-in-dark beetles! We form a single file train into the jungle and immediately discover swarms of mosquitoes. I wish I'd brought out my mosi spray. I get bit instead. The walk was pleasant and we saw centipedes, insects, spiders and moths. Not exciting, but pleasant. After a brekkie of pancakes and scrambled eggs at the main lodge we jump in a canoe for a paddle around the lake.

"Jungle" comes from a Latin word meaning "impenetrable" and was given to name the rain forest by people paddling along rivers and not seeing a means to enter land. We saw plenty fine examples of this from the lake. We also saw Stinky Turkeys, an Ecuadorian name given to this foul tasting bird. A Caiman also let its presence be known to us before sinking below the surface.

A big lunch back at the lodge and another jungle walk where we encounter a massive spiders nest straight out of an Indiana Jones film set! As it was strung straight across our trail we had to walk around it. Definitely not the sort of thing you'd want to stumble into in the dark! After everyone else (but me) almost stepped on it, Sean spots a brightly coloured snake resting on the floor! We all conclude (after our guide wasn't sure) that it was the highly venomous Coral Snake. It does have a harmless look-alike cousin but we're sure it wasn't that one! We wanted to get a long stick to clear some leaves away (for better photos) but our guide wouldn't let us fearing it may attack the next group to stumble across it. Boo!

We see more huge spiders and toads, all toxic according to our guide. He's not a native and his knowledge seems weak and second hand and I don't believe him anywhere near as much as my indigenous Guyanese friends! We get a boat lift back to the lodge for dinner before a night time walk.

It's dark. Very dark. Especially when we all turn our torches off! It's nice to fumble around but we don't see anything. Except for a giant tarantula in the wood pile near the main lodge! Woah! Cool!

After brekkie at 09:00 it's a jungle trek to Lago Gringo. Today I came prepared with mosi spray but didn't need it. I think they only come out before breakfast. We jump in a canoe and try our hand at Piranha fishing using prime beef as bait! No-one catches anything, except our guide who picks up a couple of fresh water fish.

We wander into a large hut on stilts where someone from the lodge must have pegged it over with lunch , because it's still very hot. Vegetable soup, chicken pasta and salad with jelly dessert. The floorboards look like tree bark and feels as flimsy too! Everyone is careful where they step as there are large holes in it!

Next we're off to Lago Negro for more Piranha fishing via a little trek. The trail gets muddy and 2 logs appear on it acting as a bridge. There's another 2 logs after the first 2. The guide asks us if we need / want a walking stick to help steady ourselves. Monika takes 2 (1 for each hand) whilst Sean and I refuse. It doesn't look difficult and it isn't. But then at the end of the these stick bridges we discover more, only these sticks are raised and the mud gets deeper. Then more still and the mud turns to water and more still where the logs are not secured properly causing them to roll as you walk over them. Then the 2 logs turn into 1! Eargh! Monika squeals a lot but slowly makes her way over, walking stick in each hand. Sean looses it half way along and gets a wet leg. I have a rocky moment but keep dry!

In the canoe on the other side we paddle through the reeds on Lago Negro until we reach clear water. Here we try for Piranha again, all except me because I left my line at the lunch lodge. Our guide catches a large one quickly followed by Sean, then Monika. The Piranhas make a wheezing noise in the boat as they gasp for air (water?). This disturbs Monika who decides she doesn't want to catch Piranha any more but wants normal fish instead! But fishing is all about luck and tough titty for her as she reels another one in. Not to be out done the guide baits one more before we paddle back.

Back to the log bridges, only this time knowing what's coming and fearing wet feet I take a walking stick - easy peasy! Sean stops. He hears something. Movement in the foliage. "Small Cappuccino Monkeys," our guide smiles. We all stop and wait in silence, the crashing in the undergrowth getting louder and louder. It sounds like a marauding Rhinoceros rampaging towards us and we're just standing there like lemmings! But no, tiny Cappuccino monkeys it is, just lots and lots of them and we were standing right in their path. They appeared in the palm tops, stared at us, squeaked and jumped over our heads before disappearing into the jungle beyond. Smiles all round!

A half hour walk back to the main lodge for a cold shower and dinner. I hang around after, waiting for everyone to leave. I wish to be last back for tonight I go on my creepy crawly walk. Armed with new batteries in my head torch I use high beam sweeps around the jungle path looking for sparkling eyes reflecting back at me. And boy do I find them! Hundreds and hundreds of spiders, everywhere! Blue and green eyes staring right at me. Moths tended to have red eyes. I spot a bright slimy thing too!?

After packing up our stuff we walk to the main lodge for breakfast. Sean, Monika & I leave this morning for our 14:30 flight, everyone else was staying for another jungle day for their flights weren't until the evening. Or so they thought! Madidi Travel didn't have enough boats to transport everyone back for the different flights so they changed all the flights to 14:30! Although they didn't actually say that, just that the flights had changed and everyone was leaving after breakfast.

A fast paced 30 minute walk with my 20 Kg main pack and day pack and we arrive at the river to our awaiting boat. It's a lovely calm 3 hour cruise back to Rurrenabaque. By means of an apology for flight fathing we were all treated to a fantastic tasting, huge fish lunch. Only because they hadn't quite got the timing right we only had 20 minutes to shovel it all down before boarding the airport taxi (another cheeky 5 Bs).

It's a 40 minute flight from sea level back to the highest commercial airport in the world (4,100m). The plane doesn't do much other than take off, ascend and land! (Note the lack of a descend there!) 45 Bs (£3) taxi and we're back in the highest city in the world, La Paz. We book into the El Cactus hostel because Sean & Monika wanted somewhere a little quieter. For 30 Bs per night I get a room of my own. A little later Mark & Mindy, an Aussie couple who stayed with us at the Jungle Lodge, also check into El Cactus, cool! Mindy's cute and Mark owns / runs CVS Dude, a CVS / Subversion online server company.

Stuff dinner we all have dessert at an ice-cream / cake cafe and watch Spiderman 3 (English language with Spanish subtitles) at the pictures. The film was great although, as is all far too common nowadays, they tried to fit in too many bad guys. Why not save them for their own sequels and let you explore their personalities more, eh? Sigh. Then it's straight back to bed as because Sean & Monika don't drink, there's no such thing as last orders or a quiet one. Humph!

Kind of a non day really. I plan to hang around La Paz (at an altitude of 3,700 m) for a few days to acclimatise. There's a mountain nearby, Huyana Potosi, with a summit of 6,088 m which I hope to climb. I spend most of the day wandering around market stalls shopping for souvenirs. There are lots of crafts around and being Bolivia, it shouldn't cost too much to ship it all home.

At first I was little taken aback when approached by a shoe shine boy wearing a full face balaclava. But it's all good, many wear then for anonymity, ashamed of their jobs, meaning they won't get recognised when they go out clubbing at night. Out of all the beggars encountered, the most unusual was an old man with no hands playing the harmonica! I figure a lot of everyday tasks must be very different for him! It's also time for another cut throat shave. At 10 Bs it's cheaper than buying a disposable razor!

For dinner Sean & Monika, Mark & Mindy and I go to Sol y Lunar, only it's heaving! We take the last table upstairs and order beers and food. A few beers and 1½ hours later, still no food and the place is rammed to the hilt. We ask the overworked staff about our food, they haven't even begun to prepare it so we pay for the drinks and head back to the Angelo Colonial Cafe instead. Many sarcastic jokes are made about couples enjoying romantic candle light dinners together with Stevie! I remark they'll all miss me when I'm gone!

A normal start to the day - wake up, shower, dry and "Argh! What the hell's that!? And that! And that!" All over my left shoulder and upper arm are tens and tens of bites. There are so many it looks like a rash, "Argh!" There's more on my left upper thigh too. I spot Sean hanging outside my room and show him my shoulder, "What's that look like to you?" "Bed bugs!" he shrieks and dives into action. Before I know it he's stripped my bed and is scouring the seams and folds for the little nasties. Sheet, blanket and pillows, all clean. Not even any little blood splatters marking out where they, and their full little bellies, walked off.

I'm pretty sure the marks are not from the Jungle for I was aware of all the mosi bites I acquired on the last night's spider hunt. Sean's also confused as to why I'm not in constant agony. He knew one guy who got bitten by bed bugs who had to go to hospital for a shot of Cortisone to quell the itching. He muses that the only other creature that may bite in a similar grouping pattern is a spider, but they only bite some 6 or 7 times. So great, I may be sleeping and rolling around in a nest of spiders! I decide to move hostels tomorrow. I figure what ever is eating me isn't going to kill me so I'll survive the one more night.

More souvenir shopping today. Sean & Monika send a parcel home from the Post Office and I take notes on what I'll need to do it myself. Come 20:00 Sean & Monika start to get really worried. They talked Mindy into doing the Death Road today with Mark. They also recommended and urged them to do it with B-Side Adventures. Mark & Mindy aren't back yet and should have been hours ago. What if they had an accident? What if Mindy fell off the road? It'd be their fault. I was just concerned they were late for dinner for I was hungry so I talk Sean & Monika into eating out without them. Another candle lit dinner with Stevie!

On our return Mark & Mindy walk in, all limbs attached. They had a great day only they had a slow group which took their time and the van had a flat tyre on the way back. Relieved Sean & Monika turn in early whilst I join Mark & Mindy at Sol y Lunar for a few drinks with their fellow biking buddies. As the night draws on I realise I'm coming down with a cold. Bed for 01:30.

I wake up hearing Sean's voice. Sean & Monika are leaving me today. They're heading into Peru for a pre-booked Inca Trail trek. I get up to say goodbye buy they're no where to be seen! I figure they had to rush for the bus.

I buy a few last bits'n'bobs and move back into a dorm room in Hostel El Solario, I figure it'll be more sociable. I have a cold and wish to spend the day in bed but decide to soldier on instead. I pack up my souvenirs and head to the Post Office. Sean gave me a step by step guide on how to post stuff for he spent hours yesterday battling against swarms of rude Israelis.

1. Bring 2 x Passport photocopies per parcel

2. Bring a roll of Sellotape

3. Arrive just before 14:00 when the office opens

4. Go to the 2nd counter CA9 to pick up forms X23 and CA71

5. Keep your sending address the same as the delivery address

6. State the contents as Ropa Personal

7. Pay 15 Bs for a Blue Bag in the wrapping room

8. Write "No Volver Bolivia" on the bag

9. Write the delivery address on the bag

10. Pack your stuff in the bag and tape it up

11. Take the bag to where the forms came from

12. They weigh, you pay, send it Economica.

On the way back I pass a huge protest blocking the main street. I later find out 3 towns want to claim independence together from Bolivia. That would explain the passionate chanting and the Police all tooled up in Heavy Metal Riot Gear! These boys were armed to the teeth with pump action shotguns, tear gas and belts and belts of ammo!

More odds'n'sods in the afternoon, found an Internet cafe with a CD burner, cashed a travellers cheque, bought some blank CD-Rs, toasted some photo CDs and met up with Mark & Mindy for dinner at Sol y Lunar. They're leaving for the Uyni Salt Flats later that evening. I have the Goulash, it seems to be good cold food. From them I get tipped off about San Pedro Prison where you can "pay" to be "invited" on an unofficial tour. It has its own mini-ecosystem where inmates can literally work their way up the hierarchy. e.g. from being a Bitch in a dorm room to having their own en-suite TV room. And Cholitas Wrestling on a Sunday night, no bars hold female wrestling with local women in their traditional costumes! Sadly I'm not going to have time to visit any of them.

Back in my dorm I chat to Anika, a cute blonde German girl who's just moved in, before bed. Although she was lying down the whole time, I suspect she has large breasts. Sweet dreams.

I've been at 3,700m for long enough, time to go higher, much higher, to 6,088m higher. I begin to tout around all the climbing and tour agencies. Most are offering a 2 day, 1 night package, if I join an existing group, for $150 US. I happen across a place offering 3 days trekking (complete with a pack donkey!) and the 2 day climb, all on my own for $205 US! It's so cheap there must be something wrong with it! I figure my guide will be an 18 year old Spanish only speaking drop out who can't spell "Mountain" let alone climb one; I can see us having to eat the donkey to survive. The company's called Adolfo Andoino and they have a Hotmail email address.

I sit down at a cafe to mull over my options with a beer. Anika, the German girl, walks by so I wave and call her over. We chat and agree to meet up for dinner later that night. I find "The Base, the One Stop Shop for Adventures". Wow! They have everything! Camelbak bags and accessories, Thermarest repair kits, waterproof sprays, sleeping bags, branded fleeces - all the stuff you wouldn't expect to find in South America, let alone Bolivia! I've always disliked my flimsy Berghaus daypack that zips onto my main pack and all these delightful Camelbaks are staring me in the face!

There's a 24 litre Cranberry Red Camelbak bag with elasticated side mesh pockets, a dedicated shade & MP3 pocket, a detachable waist strap, chest strap, compression straps, front compartment, padded mesh back, hydration pouch and bag and it all weighs in at 1 Kg! I try it on, it fits perfectly. Plus it's called "Rim Runner", how delightfully rude! I get really excited and can't resist. Ian Summers, I know how you feel! I buy it for $99 US along with a new pack towel, a Thermarest repair kit and rain covers for both my new day pack and my main pack - essentially stuff I should have bought in the UK. A happy man I head home to prepare for my dinner date.

It may well have been a dinner date too for we both arrive at the hostel early to shower, cleanse and change into our travelling best! I of course take her to the Angelo Colonial Restaurant. Dinner goes fantastically well and we chat about Bolivians and travelling in general. It continues back into the dorm room where I show her my gammy looking broken finger. Well, I'm still impressed with it!

I open my eyes to see Anika across the room. She ups, packs and leaves without saying a word of goodbye. Nada. I wonder what I said? Maybe it was my wonky finger? Anyway, I decide I've had enough of being shunned and left behind by girls and decide to kill myself instead. I book myself on the 5 day trek and climb of Huayna Potosi for $205 US.

I leave tomorrow morning. So I do some last minute shopping, buy a shed load of chocolate and a giant bag of Coca leaves. I'm also able to wrap up and post some photo CDs back to the UK. It's a busy run-around day and I rest for a pint at Oliver's Travels. Only the waitress gives me the address of a tailors she uses and recommends. So I finish my pint and jump in a taxi. I've been thinking of having a suit tailor made for Timbo's Wedding as the only one I have back in the UK is 2 sizes too big! I'm not taken to a suit shop but rather to a suit zone - 100s of tailors and material shops all back to back around several streets and squares.

It took me a while to find the recommended "Soliz & Mendoza" at 911. The tailor didn't speak English and I have trouble ordering food in Spanish, let alone discussing the intricate details of suit design! I was taken to a material shop where the kind husband and wife team tried to help me pick out a colour. Man was that difficult! I had no vision or idea if this roll or that would translate into a good suit or not!? I also wanted stripes so it could potentially be used in a work situation too. I finally picked one through a long process of elimination. Picking a suit style was substantially easier as I simply opted for a "Classico" look! The suit set me back 520 Bs and will be ready in 5 days, meaning I can pick it up straight after my mountain climb. Perfect timing!

Around the tailor shops was a superb market where I was definitely the only Gringo around. I celebrate by eating off a market stall for 8 Bs. As I chow down my fried Chicken and Corn I mull over my suit. I think I chose the wrong material. I think the green with yellow stripes will make me look like a clown.

A taxi ride back to the centro and I decide to enter the very local establishment next door for a quiet beer. No such luck. All eyes are on the gringo as I stroll to the bar. Before I could order anything an older man at the bar insinuates in pigeon English that I drink with him and share his beer. He wears a brown leather jacket, aviator shades from Chips and is very drunk. I decide to accept his offer.

We sit at a table and I ask his name. He rolls up his sleeve to reveal a skull tattoo in a WWII German helmet and something unpronounceable scrawled underneath it. It's his name. He seems pleased with my attempt to pronounce it. In his rambling state he clenches both hands in the air and tells me he's so "Macho, macho, macho!" I think I'm supposed to be impressed with the bicep muscles I can't see under the jacket. I tell him he's "Macho." He's happy. He then tells me he's a policeman and systematically starts shooting everyone in the room with his finger to prove the point. To substantiate his claim he produces a piece of green laminated card from his wallet. For all I knew it could have been his library card. Regardless, he's a psycho and I formulate an escape plan.

I go to the bar to buy my share of beer. The barman motions to my drinking buddy, shakes his head and says, "No amigo." I shrug my shoulders in agreement, "But what can I do?" I return to find him drumming the table to some tunes he just put on the jukebox. He leans over, puts a hand on my shoulder, stares me in the eye through his dodgy shades and says, slow as a retard, "I love you." I hold a blank expression. He shakes his head, disgusted he can't speak English and slowly says it again, "I love you." I was wrong. He's not a psycho. He's a gay psycho. I hurriedly finish my beer, make my excuses and leave. As I stand, waiting for the hostel door to be answered I'm anxious that Mr Gay Macho Psycho doesn't venture outside and realise I'm sleeping next door! The Gods are smiling down on me and I slip inside without being seen.

Up at 07:00 to pack, pay the hostel and stash some bags into storage. I'm at the company's office for 08:30 where my guide is waiting for me. Eliseo (say El-lee-seo) is 24 years old and knows a few more English words than I know Spanish. We get a taxi to their main office on the other side of town where we collect our equipment. For me alone this includes white Long Johns, 4 season plastic boots (Scarpa!), crampons, fleece hat, balaclava, gloves, mittens, wind stopping fleece, leggings, gaiters, over coat, down sleeping bag, roll mat, 2 man tent and miscellaneous climbing gear. Something tells me it's going to get cold! We pile everything back in the taxi and head out to the Cordillera Real mountain range, stopping at several markets en route for food supplies. This gives me a chance to pick up water and a Saltenas breakfast.

An hour down a dirt track and we reach our starting point - a large farm house. These 5 buildings, or village Tuni, is where Eliseo grew up. There's a bright yellow company signpost, sticking out like a sore thumb, telling me I'm at 4,448m. We eat lunch (cold crunchy rice and chicken from a market), ditch our equipment, shoulder our day packs and start walking. A woman is to load up our donkey and follow later. We walk around lake Tuni and head into the hills.

I bump into a Swiss couple walking the other way. "Where you going?" they ask.
"Huayna Potosí," I answer. "The small mountain."
"Believe us, it's not that small!" they sneer.
"Oh, did you climb it?" I muse.
""Us? No, we're not that stupid!" they laugh. "Oh, and beware of night time," they say admiring my rolled up sleeves. "Temperatures drop below freezing to as much as -10°C"
"Oh."
"Have fun, bye!" My guide grins knowingly, shrugs and walks on.

3 hours later we round a crystal clear lake to some old building ruins on the other side and wait for our pack donkey to turn up. When it does I pitch tent, crawl in and peacefully doze in the hot afternoon sun for a good ½ hour. I felt really sleepy even though I'd not achieved much that day, I came to and found Eliseo cooking on a little stove in his 2 man tent. The tent had no fly sheet and mainly consisted of ventilation gauze giving way to the harsh elements outside. I comment on it. He nervously gazes up to the stars above and sheepishly says, "Si, no beuno. Es possible para dos en tu camp?" "No." I say apologetically and shake my head. Cruel, aren't I?

The moment the sun dropped below the horizon the temperature followed suit and dropped considerably. We eat dinner in Eliseo's incomplete tent; Vegetable soup followed by beef in tomato salsa & crunchy rice. Pretty good for a camp meal! Water takes forever to boil at this altitude (4,700m), nevertheless dinner is followed by Coca Matte before we both settle into my small, cosy 2 man tent for 19:30! (Yeah, I let him share with me in the end!) Not being that used to the camp environment and the cold I didn't sleep too well. I kept tossing and turning and waking up every few hours to check the temperature. I noted a minimum of -7°C. Still, at least I didn't have to be up until 07:30 in the morning, some 12 hours later!

The guide gets up at 06:30, it's barely daylight and still below freezing. I stay in bed until I'm summoned at 07:30. Breakfast is Coca Matte, Sugar Puffs in strawberry yogurt and bread'n'jam.

There's an old man bumbling about who looks after the campsite (but its in ruins!) and I have to pay him 10 Bs. He needs to borrow my pen to write out the receipt. Only then do I discover I have no change and neither does he. I have 7 Bs or a 50 Bs note. Stalemate. He doesn't just want the 7 and I'm not giving him the 50! Compromise. I give him the 7 Bs plus my bic biro!

We walk up a pass to 5,050 m and at the top I get my first sighting of Huayna Potosí. Woah! She's a big girl and looks cold, steep and technically difficult! We walk back down into the valley to 4,700 m and stop for lunch. It's fried cheese and pasta, still warm and in the pot it was cooked in at 06:30 this morning. All the time Eliseo was clutching his old Nokia mobie, anxious for a call from the office, something about equipment. Despite his worried look he claimed it wasn't important. Just as well because the call never came. I console him with hot sweet coffee from my Thermos that I made at breakfast. I wanted to try chewing some Coca leaves today to see if it did anything but I found I'd mislaid my personal stash last night. Who needs it anyway?

From lunch we ascend to 5,000 m again. Much to Eliseo's dismay I clamber to the top of a steep peek for a look around. He didn't like me racing off on my own. On my return he points out Lake Titicaca} below the horizon - cool! It's my first sighting.

On the way down I had to administer First Aid. My big toes were paining, it felt as if they were rubbing in my hot sweaty boots. Fearing blisters I applied layers of micro-pore tape as a preventative. A trick I remember Brett Jones preaching during our treks in Spain. What can I say other than it seemed to work! But then my knee joints kept giving twinges of pain. I put it down to nerves, being oversensitive and hoped it wouldn't get any worse.

I observe many caterpillars wriggling rapidly around on the grass, relentless in their pursuit of new pastures. Breathing hard and gasping for air myself I can't help but wonder, "Do Insects have lungs?"

We hop over a wall in a small pass that was built to keep Llamas out! Down to 4,700 m again we walk along a dirt track to our next campsite - some long abandoned farm site. Our pack donkey was replaced with a motorcycle which soon overtook us. We set up camp under the towering Huayna Potosí. I note it's getting closer. I got a little concerned when our "auto-donkey" broke down soon after leaving. For a good ½ hour it sat revving in the distance seemingly unable to engage gear. A friendly dog appeared out of nowhere and I didn't see how it could survive the freezing night. Eliseo seemed adamant that my prediction of 3 people and a dog in the 2 man tent wasn't going to happen. He was right, the motorbike magically fixed itself and the dog ran back to it's shelter over the hill.

Eliseo said he's really impressed with the speed of my walking at this altitude. I would usually say he's just being kind but I'm also aware we've not been going slow either! Dinner and bed again for 07:15. Lying in the tent we exchange words from my English / Spanish dictionary. Eliseo is keen to learn English, shame he's unable to say "The"! Bless.

Having become more used to the intricacies of my sleeping bag I sleep much better. Still it must have been much colder last night because the fly sheet was frozen solid. You couldn't roll it back, it had to be folded back like cardboard! After getting up I waited patiently for the first rays of sunshine to appear over Huayna Potosí - instant warmth! Then bizarrely this boy appears out of nowhere asking for 10 Bs camp site fee!? The fee is fine, I just wanted to know where the hell he came from?

I stashed some coca leaves upon my person and chewed them on the way up the pass, back over 5,000m again. On the way down the other side I began to feel a little queasy so when I stopped to iodine more water I spit the leaves out. Further on I spot a building at the top of a hill. "Is that the base camp?" I enquire hopefully. "Yes, but there are two. We go to the second one." "Bloody typical," I muse.

We walk around a large reservoir under the watchful eye of Huayna Potosí to some buildings used by the nearby Hydroelectric station. They kindly let us camp behind them. No toilets or long drops, you just hike up the hill and find some out-of-sight rocks. It's lunch time, 4,700 m, and I'm to rest here for the day so I go walkabout. The reservoir is a dam at the top of a huge drop off into the Zongo valley. It is hugely impressive, like Wow!

There is a red metal fence running along the edge of reservoir and the huge drop next to it. I was a little confused by the fact the fence running along the drop was a lot more flimsier than the one running along the water!? I hole myself up, out of the wind, on the side of the mountain overlooking the hydroelectric station for a few hours and update my journal.

On my return, the camp has been joined by 2 girls. Katrina, a bulky, stereotypical looking East German girl who's here to experience the pain and discomfort of altitude. And Shannon, a cute little Irish surfer girl, who's besotted with her absent boyfriend. She's here because some of her friends climbed Huayna Potosí a few years ago and she's up for the challenge. Like me they each have their own guide and it looks like we'll climb up together. Eliseo joined one of the other guides in his tent leaving me to myself.

Looking up at Huayna Potosí we can see the High Camp that we'll climb to tomorrow morning and from there the tracks leading up high in the snow'n'ice. The only water available at the High Camp is from what ever snow they collect and boil so we fill up what we can now. I take 4 litres. Foolishly I didn't check a "Hot Water Bottle" that a guide filled before chucking it in my sleeping bag along with some clothes. It leaked. Being a down sleeping bag, which doesn't dry well, and knowing how the temperature would soon plummet I was very concerned. Especially as my night clothes also got wet. Ulp! But fear not, an hour with a super absorbent pack towel and hot water bottles dried most of it up! Phew! Bed again for 19:30.

No donkey today, "auto" or otherwise. I'm to stuff it all into my main pack and lug it ½ km up to High Camp resting at 5,200m. I also strap my heavy day pack to the outside using various compression straps. It gives my pack a really awkward weight, I have to lean forward a lot to compensate. The 3 hours is a scramble straight up shingle, rocks and boulders. Eliseo wanted to take some of my awkward weight, fearing I was going to wear myself out, but I was adamant, if I bring it, I carry it. The girls by comparison didn't carry their boots, day packs or any water. Pah!

We pass 8 sturdy, athletic looking Antipodeans coming down. They had attempted to summit that morning. Only 2 out of the 8 made it. The odds look grim.

High camp is a newly built 2 story shelter above the glacier where the snow line starts. Eliseo's favourite saying of the day (well, past few days really) is, "Vamos a la Playa!" or "To the Beach!"

The rest of the day is along the lines of chill, lunch, rest, dinner, sleep, breakfast! There are not many people at the camp, only 8 punters who'll try to summit in the morning. Except for me and the girls they all look athletic and super fit. Amongst them is Sean, a very rich Ecuadorian with an interesting character. It seems he wants to utilise the wealth bestowed upon him to try and address some of the social injustices in his country - but once he's finished travelling of course! To that end he recommends a book called, "The Open Veins of Latin America".

Speaking to Shannon I find out she's a physiotherapist. She gives my gammy bent finger a 30 second diagnosis. It has a ruptured extensor tendon, meaning it will never straighten on it's own until I have an operation. I only hope it won't be too late for it by the time I get back to the UK. She looks at my finger, looks at the mountain and tells me I'm a hero. I always knew it!

It gets dark and we all head upstairs to bed. The upper story is full of loose mattresses. We're getting up at 12:30am to start out on our final ascent (final assualt!?). We're up early partly for the whole summit at dawn thing but mainly because the snow gets too soft during the sunny daylight hours. People have disappeared down the numerous deep crevasses.

Up at 12:30am. I didn't sleep as well as I had hoped, I was too hot! Ended up using my down sleeping bag as a blanket. I pile on clothes and gear and double check the contents of my day pack, it includes a 1st aid kit and map! Brekkie, Coca tea and we all set off into the dark for 01:30.

We trapse awkwardly down to the snow line in our unforgiving 4 season boots where we don our crampons. Eliseo seemed to have trouble fitting his and we set off last, very last. In fact, the others are no-where to be seen. We walk single file, my guide in front, I'm roped to him following behind. Initially I find walking very awkward and extremely tiring but then I find rhythm and settle into a pace. We continue, walking in torch light, for hours. I keep the rhythm but vary the pace (according the to gradient), just like great sex!

We pass the girls, encounter our first wall and have to start climbing. It is exhausting and I gasp for air and oxygen. My guide doesn't let up, "Summit by torch light!" he screams, "Vamos!" I scramble higher, filling my lungs best I can, racking my brains for Spanish for "Stop!" I see Eliseo rise over the lip at the top but he doesn't stop there. He scrambles and runs further on shouting, "Vamos, vamos!" Roped to him I have no choice but to follow, lungs bursting. He stops and sits down in the snow. I collapse down next to him and rip open the zips on my coat and fleece, relieving pressure on my chest in a vein attempt to fill my lungs with more oxygen. The climb was 30 meters, he tells me, the next one is 200 meters! "Despacio!" (slowly) I gasp. He grins and tells me we're making good time.

I look around and take in my surroundings. I can make nothing out beyond the 8m of torch light. I have no incling of where we are going or what we're walking in between. It's just head down and follow the path. I can see the mass of street lights of La Paz below. It is an amazingly clear night and the electric stars above put La Paz to shame, the milky way clearly visible. The night is calm and still. I check the temperature, -10°C. That would explain my frozen Camelbak tube (despite blowing air back in it after each sip). Luckily I also packed my Sigg and Thermos as well! I discover frozen chocolate is difficult to eat.

We plod on, up steep bits, along shallow bits. I keep checking my altimeter. "A new personal best!" I yell reading 5,900 meters. "I'm higher than Kilimanjaro!" Eliseo looks up, unimpressed, "Good, now we climb." I look up also, this is it, the last 200 meter ice climb to the summit. I take a deep breath and sigh, "Despacio." Eliseo grunts and powers on.

It's a different rhythm now. I climb for 5 / 10 steps, shout "Pare!", stop, get some breath back, shout "Vamos!" and climb higher. During one rest I look around and notice that I'm surrounded by the other climbers. I've caught them up. It's the first sparkle of daylight and as I survey my surroundings I'm aware I'm perched on a wall of snow & ice, some 150 meters up, dangling off a rope from my guide a few meters above my head. With only an ice-axe and crampons sticking me to the side of the mountain I feel vulnerable and a slight sense of vertigo. The others are all wheezing hard and lack elegance in their climbing. "Vamos!" yells Eliseo and climbs higher, dragging me with him. I get a feeling it's a race to the top and that he's made bets with the other guides as to who gets there first. I know I'm making it to the summit but I can't breathe and have no driving desire to be first.

Feeling like Spidermen we all crawl up to a small ledge, the summit of Huayna Potos�, 6,088 meters above sea level. I'm the 2nd to summit, missing 1st place by a matter of seconds. Still, I'm happy. I gained some ½ hour on these super fit lads! It pleases me for I never think of myself as particularly fit or athletic. Breathing heavily I grab my hip flask (Bacardi Black Rum) and pass it to Eliseo. He immediately pours it on the ground. I step in to lamp him one but refrain when I remember it's an offering to Pacha Mamma, Mother Earth. Besides, there is still plenty left to offer around. As the sun peaks over the horizon, Huayna Potosí casts a huge funky pyramid shadow over the land and clouds opposite. Huayna Potosí, summit by torch light. Job done.

Eliseo hammers an ice anchor into the ground, I lean back and rappel down the wall. Weeeeee! It takes 3 hours to walk back to high camp. The sun's out, it's hot and it's hard. Trudge, trudge, trudge. The untouched snowy landscapes laid out before me looks fantastic. On my way up I was completely unaware any of it existed.

At high camp it's no sleep and no rest for we need to descend to Base Camp for transportation back to La Paz. I shun all my climbing gear and stuff it back into my main pack. One by one, everyone else returns. Only Katrina didn't summit, she turned around at the bottom of the final 200 meter ice wall. The steep climb down to Base Camp on the loose rocks with a heavy, awkward back pack was very difficult. Being exhausted, progress was slow as I sure footed every step. I didn't want to twist / break anything at this late stage.

Base Camp was full of wide awake, happy, bouncy, Huayna Potosí hopefuls. "How was it?" they enquire. I collapse by the wall opposite looking like a bedraggled picture. I take a swig of water and reply, "Hard. Very hard. Only 2 out of 8 made it yesterday." "Oh." They look shocked, I just burst their bubble. I close my eyes in the midday sun and wait for my taxi.

Back in La Paz I tip Eliseo $20 US, book myself back into the El Solario Hostel and take a well needed shower. The day isn't over yet for I book myself a bus out of La Paz for the morning. It's time I left Bolivia, especially as my 30 day Visa is about to run out. I then taxi it over to my tailors. I dread picking up my Clown suit! But no fear, it's ready and the material looks a million times better than I imagined it to be! (Dark green with lighter woven stripes and a slight blue pin stripe.) Better than that it fits me beautifully! Even the trousers, which I usually have a hard time finding for my short stocky legs! I thank Mendoza for a job well done and head back to the hostel for sleep. It's been a long day.

I'm booked on a tourist bus to Copacabana, the last town in Bolivia before Peru, situated on Lake Titicaca. It's to pick me up from the hostel at 07:30. A boy enters to direct us waiting few outside to the busy road with our bags. The bus is late and we bundle our bags and ourselves into porches, recesses and enclaves. After ½ hour the bus slowly filters down the street with the rest of the traffic. It doesn't stop. Instead the baggage hold and front doors open automatically. We haul our back packs into the hold and clamber onto the moving vehicle. Cool! The girls didn't think so.

We travel in my luxurious tourist coach until we reach Lake Titicaca. After a short speech in Spanish by the driver everyone jumps off. Not knowing what's going on I follow everyone else and join a queue by the square. There are some 8 to 10 rough looking dogs playing about making everyone feel nervous. Then 3 of them break out into a fight. Girls squeal and back away. Not to be out done, another mean looking 3 start fighting next to the queue. This time even the blokes back away. I stand my ground figuring the dogs aren't interested in humans. The next thing I know, I *am* the queue! Everyone had scattered! So I step up to the window counter and ask for "one"! If only I knew what "one" I was buying! Then I spot my bus driving on the lake. I look again, nope. It's on a very low wooden barge being floated across. I then realise I'd just bought a passenger ticket to get myself across. Cool.

The crossing was a lot more choppy than I expected and I wondered how may buses and coaches had been lost on the crossing. Money spinning idea :: Set up scuba diving expeditions to tour the wreaks!

On landing on the other side I'm singled out by a Policeman who asks for my passport. Hearing a lot about bogus Policemen working alone in phony uniforms scamming tourists I tell him it's on the bus (as oppose to my right zipped trouser pocket). We'll see how much he really wants it! He turns to his Police partner standing next to the mini Police station and says he's going to the bus. Bugger. I never saw any of that! So we walk to where the buses land and it drives straight past us, back to where we came from. My Police buddy gets annoyed and keeps demanding my passport. I'm adamant it's on the bus so we start walking back. I calm him down a little by handing him a passport photocopy from my wallet but he still wants the original.

At the bus I climb on, fath about a little by my seat and take my passport out of my trouser pocket. By this time the hordes of tourists are piling back onto the bus making it impossible for me to get off. I can hear the grumpy Policeman shouting for me. "I'm coming!" I hop off and proudly present my passport. He flips through it, stares at my Bolivian stamp, screams "30 diaz!" and drags me off to the Police station with a walk that suggests, "I have you now!" I leap back to the bus and tell the driver not to leave with my bags. Better than that he accompanies me back to the station. The Policeman shouts at me incessantly, he thinks I've out stayed my welcome and my 30 day Visa has run out. He can't count. I protest in my best Spanglish, "Si, 30 diaz, I salidar manana!" The driver converts it into Spanish and throws in some dates to boot. The Policeman is forced to back down. I have 1 day left. The fact cannot be denied. Not happy in the slightest he lets me go. I thank the driver. Phew!

Arriving in Copacabana for lunch I realise I've caught a cold from the mountain. I look forward to cosying up in a warm bed for the night. I walk up the hill to Hostel Culpa. This place is recommended by my Travel Book and as I've not stayed anywhere mentioned in my book yet, I'm keen to try it out. They're booked up. Only a family suite left which he'll give me for $20 US. My head is pounding with a massive headache, I'm carrying large bags and I feel ill. I figure £10 isn't going to break the bank so I take it. Only the room needs cleaning before I can use it. So I drop by bags off and head into town for dinner. On my return some 3 hours later I startle some cute puppies and am attacked by the midget mother. I arrive at my room with it attached to my right boot. Sigh. I enter and notice a personal stuff scattered all around, clothes, food and toiletries. I return to reception. Unable to explain I drag someone back to the room. He understands. Between the 6 people at reception no-one knows what's going on so I have to wait ½ hour for the original (and English speaking) receptionist to turn up. It turns out to be a simple mistake, I'm next door. Room number 18, not 19!

The room is a beautifully designed, one of a kind, 2 story maisonette with a mini kitchen, stone bathroom and real hot water! The front wall is a giant window giving amazing views of Lake Titicaca below. Woah! I thought I had lucked in, or so I thought until I saw the Hot Water Bottles and the calendar. It then struck me that no place I'd stayed at in Bolivia ever had any kind of heating of any kind. Here was no exception, hence the Hot Water Bottles. Worse still, next month on the calendar was marked a festival to celebrate the Coldest Day of the Year! Bang goes my cosy night in!

I kip for a few hours before I wander into town for dinner. It is dead. I grab chicken, rice and a beer at a local cafe with no doors. I could tell I was ill and had a cold. I couldn't face my beer. Bed for 12:00.

I walk into town to buy more Paracetamol, I used up all my supplies yesterday on my coldy headache. I also buy a bus ticket to Cusco, Peru for 80 Bs. It leaves at 13:30. Copacabana is famous for its Inca ruins, both on and off the Isla de Sol but ½ day doesn't do it justice. And yesterday's narrow Police escape proved I need to exit Bolivia today. I decide to visit it on my next trip round South America. As the days roll on I'm more and more convinced there will be another trip.

I board my tourist bus, it's full. 10 minutes and we're at the border. I join the queue for the Bolivian exit stamps, it moves quite quickly until it gets to me. Passport, flip, stamp. Passport, flip, stamp. My passport, flip, hesitate, hesitate, hesitate. He stares blankly at my passport, stamp in hand hovering above it. I can the see the mental arithmetic adding up in his head, counting the days. Then finally, ka-chunk, it's stamped. Phew! I'm through. The Peruvian stamp was easier to obtain. As I was tipped by Ana I convert all my Bolivian groats into Peruvian solars (at a rate of 2.6).

At the Puno bus station I'm kicked off the tourist bus and given a local bus ticket to Cusco. What a rip off! And then the bus is some 45 minutes late. I wouldn't normally mind but I'd only just found out that from Puno to Cusco is some 7 hours! Doh! A couple of Brits sit behind me (also from Copacabana) and one of them sounded exactly like that Colin Bird that Timbo's marrying!

Arriving at Cusco I whip out the name of the hostel that Ana and Isabelle are staying at. Unfortunately the detailed address consists of, "Uphill from the plaza". Great. I try it out on the taxi driver anyway. "Hostel Resbalosa, yeah, up the hill from Plaza de Armes, I know it!" he says in Spanish. Result! Although he charges me 14 sols, I later find out it should have been 4. Oh well. I check myself into a coffin sized single room for 20 sols pn (£3) and told I can change into a dorm tomorrow for 15 sols pn (£2.50).

It's 00:30 am and as I slept on the bus, I'm feeling a little perky. Plus it's Friday night, I'm in Cusco and decide it's time for a quiet beer. Cusco is full of little cobbled streets and passage ways and they all look fantastic lit up in the streetlight. It's also a lively place with plenty of clubs around the main Plaza. All the would be quiet bars are closed so I try a more local bar called Ukutus. It plays great music and has a mix of locals and a few gringos. I stay for a few beers and head back.

The same lad answers the doorbell as last time. I ask for my key, assuming it's kept behind the desk as he didn't give me one when I checked in. He says he doesn't have it. Very funny. I ask again. He doesn't have one. Not amused I ask in my best Spanglish what I'm supposed to do until the morning! (Well, drink beer did enter my head I must admit!) He stares at me for a few minutes but I don't disappear. So he decides to wake up the owner and taps on his window. The old gentleman appears with my key. I apologise and thank him. To my surprise he smiles and slaps me on my back, "No problem!" Cool. Bed for 03:00.

I get up at around 10:00 make myself look presentable and go knock on the girlie's door. I was completely unprepared for the onslaught of hugs and welcome kisses I received. Ana, Isabelle and Monika all bowled me over! In my shock, a feeble, "Good morning!" is about all I could muster in response. It's good to feel wanted! Ana in particular had been awaiting my arrival last night, eager to go clubbing but ended up having an early night instead.

Whilst the others go about their daily chores Ana takes me on a tour of Cusco. More quaint cobbled streets, only this time they're full of market stalls selling everything from socks and mashed up circuit boards to soups and decaying donkey heads! And you thought our brac-a-brak was

We decide on dinner at Cusco's only Indian, Maikhana, it pleases the veggies Sean & Monika and Ana as, well, she's Indian! Myself, Ana & Isabelle arrive ½ hour late (we got talking to another couple from la Paz in the hostel) to find the curry house in the dark and Sean in not such a bad mood as we expected. Mainly because the power had gone out in the building and he'd been helping the electrician find the cause. All the lights and most of the appliances in the restaurant were dead but the rest of the building was unaffected. You would imagine a fuse or an isolator switch had blown but this is South America, things aren't that simple! Most of the food is cooked on gas so we can still order. It's another candle light dinner with Stevie! They have no madras so it's a Chicken Chili for me. It's as tame as but the extra hot sauce they bring over kicks ass! Fearing no chili Ana dives in and soon regrets it. Sean and I are more cautious. After dinner, we leave just as power is restored. The electrician had just cobbled an extension lead into the dead fuse box - very dodgy. I was glad I was leaving, I could see it all going up in flames!

We go to the Up Town Club where Isabelle is delighted they're playing Salsa music. She gives me a go but I'm too sober, too stiff and can't get into the music. Sorry Isabelle! Next time, I swear, I'll be better! The place turns into a night club and fills up with Israelis so we leave. I drag Ana and Isa to Ukutus, where I was last night. We see the end performance of an African band, the girls love it. I rule! Isa and I leave Ana dancing to start a game of pool in the chill out room. It's a large, well worn, American pool table with one ball missing, bent cues, no chalk and small pockets. I was able to sink a couple of balls but after a slow shot where the ball visibly wobbled and snaked along the table we handed it back over to the locals and grabbed Ana.

Most of the night was spent talking about pulling. Apparently, one of the (many) reasons I'm so lousy at it is because I usually only head out with female friends - it gives off the wrong vibe as it looks as if I've already pulled. A handy tip but not having any single male mates to go out with I'm not too sure what I can do about it?

Sometime after 02:00 I walk the girls back to the hostel. "Aren't you coming in?" they ask as I stand out in the cold. "No! I'm in Cusco, it's Saturday night and the bars and clubs are still open!" With that Ana suddenly gets a second wind, "Well said! Mind if I join you?" We try a local bar which, as it transpires, doesn't sell any beer!? Instead they have a local brew sold in bottles made from palm leaves. You buy a bottle and they mix it in a jug with a bit of lemonade. It reminds me of a strong tasting Pimms. Not bad. We then move on to Mamma Africas, a gringo club, where a couple of local girls were besotted with Ana's Indian appearance. I felt quite left out! Bed for 04:30.

I struggle out of bed and meet Sean, Monika, Mark and Mindy at Jacks for brekkie at 09:30. Everybody is here in Cusco! Heading out to the main Plaza we meet crowds and crowds of people. It's to be a huge day long parade celebrating the anniversary of Cusco's University. I think they had a group for each year of every department in the Uni! In the parade it seemed to be mainly the older generation in traditional dress but then there were younger girls and boys wandering around in suits and short skirts. Very tasty! As were the female medical students in nurse's uniforms! Hey! I can't help it, I'm a bloke. It's genetic!

It's a big meet up for dinner but Ana and I leave the crowd and their cheap vegetarian restaurant to sample something more authentic. It's Ana's last night in Cusco and we go to the up-market Inca Grill for Cuy. Or to you and me, Guinea Pig! This Peruvian delicacy comes slow grilled in rosemary and appeared on the plate quartered. Not knowing any better we ordered red wine to accompany it. Picking meat of the bones of such a small creature is no job for a knife and fork - time for sticky fingers! I would describe the taste as a cross between chicken and rabbit with a distinctive after taste. Ana described it as Guinea Fowl. The others found us as we were finishing up and we all went to a Swiss restaurant for dessert and coffee.

It may be Sunday night but Cusco's still kickin'! Ana and I leave everyone to their early nights and get talked into going to the Israeli Up Town Club by means of a free drink. So we grab a free large Cubra Libra each, chat on the balcony and leave! We're then talked into going to Extrem, also by means of a free drink! More Cubra Libras. Only this time we stay for a more as it's a cool venue and rather quiet. It closes and we move on to Mamma Africas where we stay until it closes too. The conversation turns to pulling again. Ana reckons I could have any girl in the club and I'm, um, not so sure. She certainly thinks more of me than I do! She sets me homework whereby I should attempt to pull / chat up some girls over the next week as a confidence booster. I'm, um, not so sure! She doesn't want to hear of the results. I don't think she has anything to worry about.

As we exit the club and enter daylight outside Ana is concerned about staying out all night and going home the next day. "Don't be silly!" I say, "The street lights are on. That means it's still night time." We both look up just in time to watch the street lights flicker off. Doh! Ana may have to leave the hostel by 10:30 to get a taxi to the airport but I have to meet Sean & Monika for breakfast at 09:30! Bed for 06:30.

I struggle out of bed after a couple of hours sleep and meet Sean, Monika, Mark & Mindy at Jacks again for breakfast. They have porridge with apple sauce and cinnamon! We leave Mark & Mindy but promise to meet them in the afternoon as they're leaving Cusco in the evening. After sauntering back to Sean & Monika's place in Casa Grande we get side tracked by the TV, Tomb Raider is on! It's a must watch. For a multitude of reasons I think Sean and I appreciated it much more than Monika!

Back in Cusco we try to buy our Boleto Turistica del Cusco. For 10 days it gives you access to most of the popular tourist sites in and around Cusco including Inca ruins. Wicked. Sean & Monika both have fake ISIC cards and want the student discount. Only Sean is told he's too old for it, Monika is just old enough. Sean is out raged, he has a student card and he wants that discount! So Monika and I join Mark & Mindy for coffee while Sean wages his mission. He visits the central office and demands to see the manager in charge and the official documentation where it states only students under the age of 25 are eligible for the discount. He pretends to be Mindy in so far as he claims to have just finished his Masters in Marine Biology and is about to start a PhD in researching dolphin migration! The boy sticks to his guns and gets a signed letter from management allowing him to purchase a student ticket. We all reckon he's going to get bad karma as he's not a student anyway - it's a fake ISIC card! Besides we're more interested in the waitress at our Top Coffee Bar who's wearing a tight mini-skirt. Sean & Mark reckon the place turns into more than a cafe at night. I'm no so sure.

For dinner I head out for more Cuy (Guinea Pig) but this time I try a different place which promises to serve it whole. And whole it is! On a plate with a couple of roasties it comes complete with legs and head. By the look of it, I don't think it died a peaceful death! This one is plain grilled, has less meat, is mainly skin and bones, has the same distinctive taste but is less flavoursome. Still, it's a whole grilled Guinea Pig! I'm shattered. Need sleep. No clubs tonight. Bed for 23:00.

Up to meet Sean & Monika in the plaza for 08:00. We're off to see some Inca ruins and we catch a taxi to the bus station for 3 sols (50p). Sean & Monika being good wholesome people got up early and had already had breakfast. I, on the other hand, having a stomach of steel grab cake and pastries from the bus station. I also grab a glass of what can only be described as hot milky apple sauce! Yummy! Sean & Monika wouldn't touch it because the glass gets washed in local water. Whatever! I put my new talent into effect on the bus and pass out, only to be woken by Sean when we reach a bus station and need to switch buses. How dare they disturb my much needed beauty sleep!

The village centre of Ollantaytambo, although still quaint looking, has succumbed to day trip tourism with plenty of cafes, restaurants and craft stalls. I get a feeling all the sights will be the same. It was nice that Sean & Monika, even though they've seen the mighty Machu Picchu, still had an interest in these lesser Inca ruins. The ruins mainly consisted of a series of large agricultural terraces rising up to more traditional housing ruins above.

After admiring the giant boulder bricks we head back to the village square for lunch. It takes a while (much to Monikas annoyance) as Sean is the look out for a cheap vegetarian restaurant with an inventive menu. As most gaffs just do meat 'n' rice, it's a tall order! We find somewhere that'll do, order a beer and some sandwiches and watch the waitress leave, only to return some 5 minutes later with a shopping bag of bread, beer and sandwich ingredients! Just In Time Shopping and Cooking! Sean & I had spotted more ruins of an old church looking thing up the side of the opposing mountain and drag Monika up with us for a closer look.

On the way home the first bus was the usual local packed minibus complete with indiscriminate breast feeding. The second was a more respectable coach. I was picking at my tasteless super size corn and cheese (bought for 2 sols from kids at the bus station) when the girl next to me blurts out the name of the mountain we're passing. Only when I turn to talk to her so I notice that I'm sitting next to a slim attractive, well to do, spectacle wearing Peruvian girl. Her English was good, conversation was only difficult due to my poor pronunciation. She often answered a completely different question to the one I asked! It turned out she's a member of a climbing club and had climbed (with ropes and all) most of the mountains in the area. Cool! She also taught primary school kids computers in the morning and was training to be a lawyer in the evening. Fearing her to be too good to be true Sean jumps in and tries to arrange a social meeting between us all as means of getting me a date. It's too good to be true. She's flying to Lima at the weekend to attend a climbing convention. Being one of the most experienced female climbers in the area the convention was even paying for her flight! Sigh.

A bit of a non-day so here's a bit about Cusco. The city is centred around the Plaza de Armas which in turn is centred on gringo tourists. Except for the 2 magnificent churches the plaza is completely surrounded by restaurants, cafes and tourist agencies on both the upper and lower levels. One corner is home to the gringo clubs. In an attempt to extract as much cash as possible from tourists the clubs are even open in the afternoon but with different slant. They are kitted out with projectors and DVD players and openly advertise (with flyers) and invite everyone in to watch the latest Cinema releases, downloaded fresh from the Internet - for free! They only mandate you buy a drink or something whilst you watch it. Being a club, obviously the sound system rocks! Wanting to give it a try Sean, Monika & I rock up and watch Apocolyto, a Mel Gibson film about the Mayan race, some pre-Inca tribe in the jungle. Knowing what I know about the jungle, it's quite authentic. The film is good but not great.

The plaza, being centred on gringos as it is, is also full of touts. Every minute you're harassed by people wanting to shoe shine your flip flops, sell you postcards, sweets, cigarettes, drag you into their restaurant, club or, as seems to be most popular, young girls wanting to give you a massage. Still thinking of Isabella I give in to a massage ('cos she often liked a massage see!). Though not certain of the authenticity and professionalism of the girls on offer I needed some Dutch courage before asking for one, 30 sols (£5) for 1 hour.

The girl I picked worked for "Inka Massage" and led me upstairs to a small room partition complete with mild candle lighting, electric heater, bed / stretcher table and soft music. She asked me to get ready and closed the partition. I took off my shoes and top and waited. On her return she laughed and shrieked, "No, todo ropa! Todo ropa! Take off all your clothes!" and promptly left again. Um, so I did and saved my modesty with one of the towels on the bed. On her return I was subjected to an all over body massage. An amateur compared to the surgical technician of Buenos Aires it must be said, but good none the less. There's something about an attractive young girl rubbing her oily hands all around your inner thighs that turns your thoughts to one thing, "Dead puppies, dead puppies, dead puppies..." About the only parts that were not massaged were the stomache, chest and pectorals. I'm not sure why that is. Lots of attention were placed on the calfs and legs which I assume would suit people fresh off the Inka trail. I left feeling, well, rather chilled!

Having been at altitude (say 2,500 m) for over a month and a half now (Cusco's at 3,400 m), I feel like I'm stuck in a perpetual winter. It never gets that warm during the day and it's always cold and chilly at night. It almost makes me wish I was back for summer in the UK!

I also must mention that, in general, Peruvian girls in Cusco are beautiful. Cusco has the highest concentration of gorgeous girls of any city I've ever been to. It's a visual feast. I have no desire to leave anytime soon!

The weather forecast on yahoo.com predicted rain. I think it's run by the BBC because it was blue skies and sunshine all round. To that end Sean, Monika and I decided to visit Sacsayhuamán} (which everyone pronounces Sexy Woman!), some religious Inca ruins up the hill from my hostel. It's quite a cool place and some of the stone blocks are simply massive! The size of a portacabin, not only have they been dragged into place but they've been sanded down on all sides to slide perfectly in place amongst the other blocks. The superior Inca craftsmanship can not be denied.

And then I saw it. It was huge! The biggest & fluffiest dog I've ever seen! So big I just had to go get a photo to prove its dimensions!

I look up and Christ, it's Jesus! Yep, Cusco has it's own Christ the Redeemer too! So while Sean & Monika walked down the hill, I pegged it up another for a closer look at this spiritual entity. Well, what can I say about it? It's white, was made in 1945 and has freaky giant googly eyes!

Back in Cusco we succumbed to one of the many restaurant touts advertising a free drink with lunch. Free and a drink it may be but these perfectly formed Pisco Sours were served in shot glasses!

I met up with Sean & Monika at Jacks for brekkie where I met Chris, an Englishman they had been talking about for ages. They've been waiting for him to turn so I would have a drinking partner. It seems he got stuck in La Paz for 4 days whilst protests blocked all the roads to Peru. He tried every day to leave, but each time the 12 hour bus trip simply returned him back to La Paz!

Leaving Chris behind Sean, Monika & I catch a bus to Pisac - a huge Inca ruin site. Better than that, it was a warrior fortress! In Pisac we take a taxi to the top of the ruins - the idea being we explore them working our way down, rather than up! Not long after us, coach loads of day walking American tourists up - run! They're coming, they're coming! Head for the hills! So we did, off the beaten track to the top of the fortress where Sean and I stripped off and acted like Inka Gods, commanding our puny troops below.

When Monika got bored of our little game she headed down, back the way we came. Sean & I climbed down a slippery slope to meet her only she had taken a wrong turn and was a different trail which bypassed most of the cool ruins. Sean and I spent our time looking at the ruins and playing, "Where's Monika?" looking down at the paths below. It was a wicked scramble around, shame Monika missed it!

Walking into Pisac we had a good mooch around the market, a late lunch and picked up a couple of souvenirs. We also shared a bottle of a popular local soft drink, the bright yellow Inka Cola. It was to be the first of many. I am now addicted to the stuff. (But maybe not as much as Downsy is addicted to Coke!) In the evening we met up with Chris at Cafe Ritual for dinner. When Sean & Monika announced their early night Chris and I decided to continue drinking. Sean, acting all fatherly as he left, warned us, "No Coke 'n' Whores!" Especially as we'd booked ourselves in for a day of White Water Rafting tomorrow. "No Coke 'n' Whores!" Shesh! Who does he think we are? Well, here's how most of the night went...

At the Kamikase pub bar we took advantage of a cheap Cubra Libra offer and left 4 large glasses later. Swiftly followed by a free Cubra Libra at the Up Town Club. When I told Chris it was full of Israelis he didn't understand that it's FULL of Israelites! So we left for Mamma Africas. A beer later he got fed up with Gringos so we left for Casanovas, a strip club with a 20 sol (£4) entrance fee. There I was treated to an hostess for the night, and boy, she had the cutest, most perfect body I've ever had the pleasure of um, yeah! (Face wasn't bad either!) I finally left at 04:30 and only realised how drunk I was when I tried to order a taxi back to the plaza with extremely slurred speech.

I wake up and check the time. 11 O'clock. Bollocks. I've missed the White Water Rafting. Sean's not going to be too happy! I get up, spend 10 minutes in a Internet Cafe, realise I'm really, really hungover and stagger back to bed! After I get up I go to my favourite Bolivian Saltenas place for breakfast. The place is cool, they only serve their home made, baked there and then, Saltenas. As such when you walk in and sit down the waitress comes over and simply asks, "Quantos?" (How many?) Today I get handed a note from a waitresses asking for my email address. When I enquire what for she only motions it's for a member of staff...? On leaving I had great difficulty in adding up my simple bill. My brain is mashed. I am really hungover.

I spend the afternoon wondering around the local quarter of town, window shopping for shoes and make a mental note of possible local night clubs in the area. I even find an "Everything for a pound" shop! I return to Cafe Ritual for 18:30 where I expect Sean, Monika & Chris to turn up, and order a large beer. They don't turn up so I'm forced to wrestle with the monster 1.1 litre bottle of beer on my own. But even in this severely weakened state, I Fear No Beer! The young waitress Rudeba takes an interest in me but doesn't speak any English. But her boss in the back room knows some words. What follows is an amusing conversation between 2 people by 3 people.

Rudeba: "How old are you?"
Steve: "27 (!) How are old are you?"
Rudeba: "19. (Blah, blah, Spanish, blah)"
Boss: "Bonitio?"
Rudeba: "Si, muy bonito!"
Boss: "Married."
Rudeba: "Are you married?"
Steve: "No, I'm not married."
Rudeba: "(Blah, blah, Spanish, blah)"
Boss: "Girlfriend."
Rudeba: "You have girlfriend?"
Steve: "No, I don't have a girlfriend."
Rudeba: "(Blah, blah, Spanish, blah)"
Boss: "Dancing."
Rudeba: "You want go dancing? Tonight? Me gusta Reggaton?"
Steve: "Yeah, would love to. Si, me gusta Reggaton." (I lie, I have no idea what Reggaton is!)
Rudeba: "Cool, here at 10:30."

I leave bemused. It seems I've just acquired a dance date with a 19 year old girl without speaking any Spanish!

I pop into a restaurant near my hostel for dinner and get talking to Matt, the Australian owner. Upstairs is a brand new Hospedaje (Bed 'n' Breakfast type thing), just furnished with views overlooking the Plaza. He introduces me to Carlos the owner and I look around. It seems cool, nice beds, same price per night (15 sols or £2.50) , it appears some what warmer (has more of a roof) and isn't at the top of a huge flight of stairs like my current place! I plan to move in.

I return to Cafe Ritual at the designated time and make instant friends with Juan, the owner, as he's well into his computer. He writes music on it, downloads films and is learning Flash. "My computer is very strong!" he proudly tells me. I think he means "powerful", bless! Rudeba, my dance date has changed her mind, she needs to go home to eat instead but promises tomorrow. No problem as Juan has Gregory over, a skinny French bloke, and his girlfriend. I stay drinking with them after hours. Not wanting to out stay my welcome I leave at 01:30.

It's still early for Saturday night so I decide to go on a local mission. I figure I'll do a quiet crawl on my own of the local clubs and then make a proper night of it with Chris at a later date. Ha! More fool me! First of all I bring attention to myself just by being the only Gringo in the small basement club. As I enter everyone stops and stars at me. I stick out like a sore thumb, I get the feeling not many Gringos venture this deep into local territory. Then it took 3 bar workers and a 4th drunk who spoke a few words of English just to have them understand my order of, "One beer please!" It wouldn't have been so embarrassing but the place only serves large bottles of beer and nothing else! My Spanish still sucks.

After 2 minutes of sitting quietly in the corner, the English speaking drunk staggers overs, very excited by my attendance and wanting to be my next best friend. Conversation quickly dries up once he's exhausted his 12 word vocabulary, but he's ever so proud of his wife, a waitress. So much so at one point I thought he was going to offer her to me for a free trial! It's then the turn of a couple of girls to register their interest in me. I give up on the notion of keeping myself to myself for the evening and join them.

One speaks English (well, ish) and it's her 22nd Birthday. She's fairly wasted but not as much as her Brother who's passed out comatose on the table. Which is acceptable compared to the girl who's brought her baby out to the club! But it seemed quite happy cooing on the chair in the corner amidst the bass bins! Maybe it liked the traditional Andean folk and pan pipe music blasting out on the sound system complete with flashing lights and strobes! After spending time on the dance floor with the girls I found you can pick out a house beat to dance to. In fact, everyone there danced as if in a normal club and I must say the English speaking girl had some fantastic moves on her, despite being rather tipsy.

We then moved on and got a taxi to Las Vegas, a giant 2 story local club - think of it as the Ritzy of Cusco. By now my girl was quite visibly wasted and staggered about, much to the annoyance of a bloke she kept bumping into. Actually, to avoid him starting a fight with me, I had to forcibly sit her down! Back on the dance floor later she kept trying to kiss me, but not wanting to take advantage of her I kept side stepping to receive pecks on the cheek instead. I made my escape from the club when the girls took a little too long in the toilet. Bed for 05:30.

I rise late. Surprise, surprise and meet Sean & Monika at the Plaza. They're not in a mood to do anything and in my hungover state, nor am I. So we watch a film in one of the clubs. We pick, "Thank You for Smoking" at X-trem. We were the only ones there and sat on sofas in front of the projector. It was like having your own personal cinema - which I guess it was! The film is great by the way, and well worth watching. One can learn a lot from it.

Later we have dinner at Cafe Ritual. I'm waiting for an invitation to dancing from Rudeba but as the evening progresses I resign myself to the idea that I'm being ignored. She's had a change of heart. Ack, oh well. Later we meet Isabelle at her Charity restaurant, drink giant Pisco Sours and play Jenga. I lost once during a freak incident at the start of a game. Chris and I join Isabelle and her mates as they head out. First to Up Town for a quick drink and then to Mythology. I'm not in the mood for dancing or drinking - I think I'm coming down with a cold. Though when the beat turns more techno I do manage a little jiggle on the dance floor.

It's Chris' last night in Cusco and he's dying to see his stripper. So once again I'm persuaded to discard my morals and take him to Casanovas. Only it's closed so instead we head to the local clubs on Calle Belen, where I was last night. We pick the "American Disco" which definitely isn't! It's very similar to the place I was at last night, a small dingy basement club with an over sized sound system and strobes going like the clappers. The place is dead and largely empty - even if you count the various comatose individuals passed out on tables. We resign ourselves that being Sunday night, every where's going to be similar. Using his deft skills in Espanol Chris gets chatting to a waitress. Not possessing any skills in Espanol I drink beer. Until that is, I become part of the conversation.

"What's your name?"
"Steve."
"How old are you?"
"27(!)"
"Are you married?"
"No."
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
"No"
"Why not? What's wrong with you?"
"Um..."

That last question sure stumped me for I didn't really know the answer myself. Several responses came to mind including comments about lying, deceitful, cheating, slutty ex-girlfriends but I plumbed for, "Because I'm stupid and ugly!" instead. Chris kindly translated that into, "Because he hasn't met the right woman yet."

Chris then motions to another waitress, "Do you like her?" "Yes!" I reply. She was slender, very attractive and I'd been watching her perform several amazing dances on the floor in between serving people. A few words were said between several people and in the next moment she's stood in front of me. "You can dance with her if you want." She was really pretty and obviously didn't speak any English. Any conversation was out of the question as my Spanish still sucks. To dance was the only option but I'd just seen her do amazing jives and ballroom dances, my funky chicken just didn't compare! And then a new song started playing, it was that crappy local Andean music. How can anyone dance to that? I stood there like a startled rabbit stuck in headlights. My heart pounded, I breathed heavily, I went light headed. I think they call it a panic attack. Then an irrational thought flashed through my mind, "It's all futile." I backed down, gave in and stammered, "Lo sento pero no gracias." (Sorry, but no thank you.) She walked away.

We soon left to visit the club I was at last night. It was also dead and Chris started to fall asleep on the table until an off duty Police officer advised us to leave for our own safety!? We called it a night, although I went to Mamma Africas for last orders at 04:30.

I spend most of the day in bed and meet up with Sean for 21:30. We need to make phone calls for final arrangements for paragliding tomorrow. The calls are made and it's sorted, we're on! We then meet Chris and Monika for dessert at the Swiss restaurant. I say my farewells to Chris for he's leaving Cusco in the morning and head back to the Hospedaje. I'm still shattered an need sleep. Another guy, Stephan from Switzerland, had moved into my dorm room for the night. He's just about to go out. I recommend Mamma Africas and wish him luck.

Up and at the plaza for 09:15. We're being picked up at 09:30 but Sean wanted time to come and wake me if I wasn't there. My non-appearance at White Water Rafting still fresh in his head. Our main man, Richard, is a bit of a beardy hippie but knows his stuff. He seems to be the most experienced and the all knowing sage when it comes to Paragliding in Cusco. He's the one top super models fly with and the Army gets to do show piece fly-ins. One story he tells is when he lands in Plaza de Armas, as personally asked for by the Commander in Chief of the Peruvian Army, to take part in a grand military parade. He then gets arrested by the Police, whilst in the parade, for not having the correct paperwork for landing there! Like it's a common form you pick up at the post office! Luckily the Army bailed him out after just the one night in jail!

In the truck with Sean and I were 2 guys with their own gear. One was Swiss and the other, a bald headed egotist with a nondescript gringo accent called Matt. At the launch site, a short run up to a cliff, other paragliders and customers were all lining up. We watched as one launch went horribly wrong and the instructor and client almost got dragged haphazardly over the cliff. Richard shook his head asserting his authority on the field, "Well, that's what you get for paying 10 bucks less."

Richard and his helper laid out our canopy on the ground, "Right, the lightest and most hungover goes first." I raise my hand, still feeling worse for wear, "I guess that's me then!" "Relax, chill for a bit. We're not going yet." So we do and watch several Israeli girlies take off. Then after a seemingly indiscriminate amount of time, "Suit up, we're going!" Why now? I had no idea. Maybe the land warmed up a bit, or some clouds disappeared or the wind changed direction. What ever it was it seemed to work. The chute went straight up and so did we. A few minutes of circulating later and we were higher than the mountain we started half way up from!

Richard looks down, notes the other paragliders way below and remarks, "We sure smoked those other guys, eh!" There is no denying that we did. The ride was a smooth flight into the skies. With the whole of the Sacred Valley laid out before you, taking photographs was difficult for there was no focal point for the pictures. Just vast landscapes. But take many I did regardless.

We caught thermals and rose so high we had to spiral down to Earth to land. So much so we inverted the canopy! We landed with a bit of a thump but the helper was nearby to drive us back to the launch site where it was Sean's turn. He too went straight up but claimed to have more of a bumpy ride. He felt nauseous. Richard told him to say when he was going to throw up, for there's a special position he puts him in so he misses all the equipment! Paragliding, $80 for ½ hour. It's no adrenaline rush but it's good fun and the views are simply spectacular.

When we get back to town I'm still wasted so I head back to bed for a few hours. For some reason I had to change rooms first (if only I spoke Spanish!). Later I follow a treasure trail of notes (because I turn up late) to find Sean & Monika at a Japanese restaurant, Kintaro. The Triyaki chicken was fantastic! Back to bed for 23:00.

I sleep in until 12:30. I'm ill. I've got a cold. Regardless I meet up with Sean & Monika and we watch Shrek 3 at Mythology. It's not that great. I think I only chuckled twice. Later I book my alternative trek to Machu Picchu for Saturday, the Salkantay 5 day trek. It's a day longer than the fully booked classic trek and is supposed to have more spectacular scenery. That means I've got 2½ days to get better and shun the cold.

It's Sean & Monika's last night in Cusco so after a few hours kip I meet them and Isabelle at their pad for 20:00. I suggest some bars but they are either too expensive, too smoky or too far away, so instead we stay in, watch TV and share 1 bottle of wine between us all. But hey, I was really ill anyway and as the night wore on watching Magnolia I felt a sore throat encroach and grace my health. Bollocks. After being accused of being quiet all night we said our good byes and I headed home. Bed for 00:30.

A tribute to Sean & Monika, or as I refer to them, S & M:
1st man, "Do you practise S & M?"
2nd man, "Sure I do, my wife Sleeps and I Masturbate!"
Cheers Isi!

P.S. As an aside, I was also contacted by a best mate (Stephen Young) from Primary school on FaceBook!

I wake up at midday. Wheezing, snotty and with stiff muscles I get up and head out for a Saltenas breakfast at the usual. The waitress knows me and my order; 2 x Saltenas and an Inca Cola. A busker comes in and starts strumming his guitar. In the Gringo restaurants buskers come in and play traditional Adean music. I note that here in a local restaurant the busker plays The Beatles and other Gringo music I recognise!

I pay off the rest of my Salkantay trek at X-Treme. They came recommended by Sean & Monika for that's who they did their Machu Picchu trek with.

I go back to the Top Coffee Bar. I never ventured in last time but I think Sean and Mark were correct, in the evenings it may well be more than a cafe. Again the waitress is decked out in a very short mini-skirt. I assume it's part of the uniform. On the back wall were hung larger than life posters of seductive strippers. In the middle of the venue was a shiny aluminium stage / mini cat walk with seats around it. I write my journal over a coffee or two. It is indeed Top Coffee - the best I've had in Cusco! An espresso shot served in a tiny cup of hot milk. Mmmm...

Dinner was back at the Japanese restaurant. The food was mighty tasty once again although I did trap a couple of cockroaches under various cups and plates and waited for the waitress to clear up. The ensuing squeals as they wriggled free across the table told me she was not too amused! Bed for 22:30.