Slimer's Adventures in South America

I wake up still wheezing and snotty and my muscles feeling like I'd just attempted a Everest summit. I'm not getting any better and leave for the Machu Picchu trek tomorrow. Time for re-enforcements, time for anti-biotics! I break out the Amoxycillin kindly donated to me from Eug. Then it's to the Bolivian Saltenas place for brekkie and a x3 treat!

Back to the Top Coffee Bar for more journal writing and more top coffee! I note that the waitress brings "everything" over to your table on a tray, hoisted high. Even if it's just a single item, like a bottle of beer. At first I thought it was a little silly and over the top but then I noted that her little strut over in short skirt and high heels also looked rather sexy! Hmm... So for the benefit of the reader I decided to stay a little longer and order more stuff. As the time ran into early evening the volume rose and they projected a Robbie Williams music DVD onto the wall in front.

And then I saw it, hanging off the wall, beaming its tantalising ray of hope right at me... a bar mat for Old Speckled Hen! Woah! And next to it bar mats for Abbot Ale and Greene King IPA! I immediately call the waitress over. Just think, real English Ale, here in Cusco! Boy, it's been sooooo long! In my bestest Spanglish I enquire about the Old Speckled Hen. She understands nothing but brings me a beer menu instead. All 3 beers are available in bottle and cans. Stuffing the Spanglish, I just point at the bottle of Old Speckled Hen on the menu, my Spanish sucks anyway. She walks away but struts back empty handed. "No tengo Old Speckled Hen." Bollocks. My hopes dashed, my heart broken. I reason to myself that Abbot Ale is not a bad brew. She walks away again but again struts back empty handed. As saucy as she is, she's trying my patience. "Tengo solo Greene King IPA en lata." Bollocks. Greene King IPA is a sorry excuse for a beer at the best of times, but in a can, literally transported half way around the world... No Thanks. I plum for a local fresh Cusquena malt beer instead. I enjoy the beer. I reason the antibiotics are working and I'm getting better.

I eat at an overpriced Mexican tourist restaurant simply because Sean & Monika aren't around and I can! Back at the hospedaje I change rooms again. I have no idea why but it keeps Carlos the owner happy. I pack for the trek, pop more pills and have an early night.

Note: This is not the "Classic Inca Trail" everyone knows and loves but rather an alternative called the "Salkantay Inca Trail". It still takes you to Machu Picchu but is said to be longer, harder and more spectacular than the "Classic" trek. Let it be known I never take the easy option!

Up at 04:00 to finish packing my bags. Carlos blunders in to make sure I'm up for my early appointment and kindly waits with me outside. He's impressed with my system of water bottles, water purification tablets and CamelBak. He thinks I'm a trekking expert. I let it be known it's not my first.

Despite giving X-Treme detailed directions and a hand drawn map to my hostel, a confused woman comes blundering down the stairs looking for me at 04:50, very pleased to have finally found me! I have to follow her all the way up the stairs with all my gear to the waiting minibus. It seems my trek starts here and now! The mini bus drops us off at a waiting local coach where we all pile on with guides and gear. For the next 2 hours I sleep.

Us punters go for brekkie (Coca tea, white bread and jam) at a local cafe whilst the guides sort themselves out. I've been lumbered with a group of 11; 2 Americans, 2 Canadians, 3 Brazilians, 1 German and 2 Irish. The trek is run by Quechua Expeditions, it turns out X-Treme was just the middle man. We start at Mollepata and the morning is largely a steep uphill climb. It sorts the men out from the, um, less experienced! Lunch is then a 4 course meal affair with starters, soup, main and tea / coffee. There's a stall across the way where I try my first Cusquena Negra Malt Beer. No one else was interested.

Expecting to eased into the trek I was surprised that the first day was such a long one, some 24 km. Although the 2nd half was quite flat and rather easy.

Trundling along I came across a small and rather attractive American girl struggling along the path with a large Gucci Northface rucksack. The rucksack was about the same size as her! She was with the "other group" who were doing exactly the same trek as us. They had all left her, speed walking ahead. Knowing what it can be like struggling in last position I slowed and walked with said Patricia, encouraging her to drink more water to get over her heat exhaustion and altitude sickness. She looked so bad I even donated a carabineer clip so she could have her water close at hand, rather than buried deep within her pack. We parted company when she stopped for a wee stop and I raced ahead. Not only did I catch my group up but I lead them too! Along a dirt track with Irish John, who walked at quite a fast pace. He claimed he wasn't fit but just didn't like walking slowly! In fact, we arrived at Sobaypumpa at 16:30, long before the pack horses and had to wait for them (and our tents) to arrive. Being the odd one out (quiet!) I get a little 2 man tent to myself.

By the time dinner came around the temperature had dropped significantly. It was quite literally freezing by bed time. Reports came in the next day that it dropped to -8°C overnight which would explain why in my 0°C rated sleeping bag I wore ALL the clothes I brought. That's 5 layers including my coat (wind / water proof shell), hat, gloves and 3 pairs of socks. Only then was I just warm enough to mentally block out the remaining cold and get some sleep! Brrr...

I'm woken up at 06:30 to Coca Tea and frozen tents. It's hard getting up in the cold - and it was still cold by the time I leave at 09:00.

It turns out I pushed myself too hard yesterday, racing ahead with John - for today I have no energy and lag behind. I let the super fit charge ahead, while I amble along at my own pace.

The morning sees us over a pass next to Salkantay mountain itself. At an altitude of 4,600m it is the highest our trip to Machu Picchu will take us. It's a good height and is much talked about in conversation, but having recently ascended 1½ km higher, I find it difficult to join the enthusiasm!

Nearing the top I pass Patricia and again slow for a chat. She had plenty of rest last night and drank lots as per my advice and today she looked (and felt) a whole lot better. Seeing her water bottle swinging by her side I knew I had lost my carabineer for good, but happy it went to a good cause!

At the top of the pass I meet the fitter half of the group and wait for the un-fit half. (I guess I'm in the middle!) There is much celebration when they do for it's the highest most of them have ever been. I brake out a Hip Flask of whiskey and hand it round. One of the Americans, bemused by the tradition, says, "Man, I love you Brits!" I took it as a complement

Salkantay is a large icy peak, our guide tells us no one has yet climbed it. He said one European team attempted it some 15 years ago but an ice avalanche wiped them all out. As he spoke there was a thundering crash on the mountain, an obvious avalanche sound. But the mountain remained still. Apparently it's common, for what we see of the mountain is just an icy coat on the outside and the dangerous avalanches occur underneath, where we can not see.

Fog rolled in obscuring all views as we descended down the other side. The damp mossy rocks were complete with wet woolly sheep. I swear I could have been in Wales! We followed a path along the side of a valley to reach our next camp. This one was a little settlement of farm houses so come evening we were even able to buy a bottle of beer! Correction - I was able to buy a bottle of beer! No one else was interested.

That night it comes to the guides' attention I have a large stash of Bolivian Coco leaves in my possession, which turns out to be big breaking news. I'm not in trouble, far from it - in fact they're all eager to try some because they've never had Bolivian before! I heartedly hand it out piles of leaves and they all munch away before reaching a unanimous decision that it's not as good as their locally grown Peruvian stuff. I think it was a bit of national pride coming in to play for personally I couldn't taste any difference!

It was a bright sunny start to the day as we set off, crossing the river and along the other side of the valley. Mid morning we stop off at a little shop and wait for the slow coaches to arrive. Our guide introduces us to Monkey Brains! Also know as Passion Fruit, the way to eat them (apparently) is to crack them on your head to split them open and then slurp out the innards! Monkey brains are so plentiful from overhanging trees the little snackettes practically give them away!

From then on it got real hot. And after leading with the super fit Americans for a while I figured I'd proved my worth and decided to hang back so I could unbutton my shirt and cool down. To my surprise I catch up with Marceo, one of the Brazilians. He was limping along on his own, having sprained his ankle somehow. It was late morning and I knew we had some distance to go so I decide to chill and walk with him, keep him company. He didn't speak English and I certainly didn't speak any Portuguese!

After a couple of hours we meet up with our leader, he's very concerned about making it over to Santa Teresa before dark - especially with Marceo and his sprained ankle. At the bottom of the valley the trail meets up with a rough road. Our leader spies a big truck, walks over and strikes a deal with the driver to give Marceo and I a lift to our lunch stop where all the others were waiting.

At first I was a bit put off by the idea - I felt like I'd be cheating if I didn't walk the whole Inca Trail. But then I reasoned this trek wasn't an almighty challenge (considering some of my other more recent adventures!) and it wasn't a sacred pilgrimage either, so... what the heck!!? In the back of the truck I pile!

We arrive for lunch amidst a volley of cheers! People admired our transport! So much so, we arrange to have the same truck transport all of us (and the other group) to Santa Teresa. Now while this may sound like a complete cop out, hear me out!

• We get to ride in the back of local truck

• We get back in time to visit Santa Teresa Hot Springs

It was definitely the right choice. The truck ride was awesome, we were packed in the back with a kazillion locals, rough riding down dodgy dirt tracks, being pounded from one side of the truck to the other - great fun! In fact, the journey was so long, even in the back of the speeding truck, I don't know how we would have made it if we had walked!

After setting up our tents by a bar we all pile back into the same truck for a trip to the Santa Teresa Hot Springs. The tourist part was still being built but the Hot Springs themselves were definitely hot and ready!

It has to be said the Americans were not only super fit, but ripped and muscle built too. They were also doctors in the making, following their parental foot steps. They obviously spent all their time reading books, guzzling steroids and pumping iron. They were your stereotypical American all-star do-gooders - but I must add they were also very stereotypically boring too. Yup, they always went to bed early and didn't drink.

Marceo on the other hand, as it transpires, knows everyone and is quite the social and party animal. And after helping him out today, I'm his new best friend! Good job the springs also served beer!

John the Irishman felt pretty ill from all his speed walking and was happy to chill by the pools. Though I still poked much fun at him for wearing a English rugby top!

We stayed at the springs until dark where we rode the truck back to town under a blanket of dazzling stars. On return there was lots of drinking over dinner and an attempted bar crawl - attempted because we could only find two!

Today is an opt-out day for those who can't, or won't, carry on. This inevitably included Marceo with his sprained ankle and John the Irishman, whose inability to walk slowly, even at altitude had him throwing up all last night. The large German and the other Brazilians also opted out. There were to be driven to a train station where we would meet them for lunch and they would then get the train to Aguas Calientes; the tourist town at the bottom of Machu Picchu.

Us heroes that were left trotted off through the village and began the days trek with a river crossing... in a cage!

A thick steel line lay suspended between the two sides of the river and a cage hung beneath it. The case was loosely secured at both sides enabling you to pull yourself one way or another. Well that or you get someone to give you a big shove and another to pull you across! Just don't mind the raging torrent below! The crossing definitely made for lots of screaming girly action. Brilliant!

Further along we cross over a fierce waterfall. This waterfall used to pound over the trail, but as they want to turn the trail into a road they dug a big hole through the rock so now it goes under the trail! Woah! Quite an impressive feat considering the scale of the operation and Peruvian engineering (e.g. llamas and donkeys!).

Further down the line we enter the National Park, sign ourselves in and walk to the train station for lunch. The lazy others were already waiting for us with some nice cold, ice cold Inca Colas! Oh boy, my favourite!

Setting off from there we come across a stone plinth and if you stand on it you're able to get your first glimpse of Machu Picchu - our destination! From there we essentially follow the train line all the way to Aguas Calientes. This took many many hours for it was quite some way. Not only was it far, but the ground was surprisingly difficult to walk. The gravel track was extremely broken up by railway sleepers - too uneven to casually walk over. So you walk on the sleepers, but their spacing was too close to step on each one and too far apart to step on every other one! This then just left my favourite option, to walk the line! Yep, walk on the railway line itself! I found balance was basically a matter of finding the optimum distance ahead to focus on.

I walked most of it with Patrick, John's mate and a fellow Irish man. We walked a bit with Patricia too.

The main problems of walking along a train track are... TRAINS! Yep, this track certainly wasn't deserted! Every now and again you'd hear a loud horn blow and you'd jump out the way of a steaming bulldozer! So all this wasn't too much of a problem in its self until we came to a bridge over a ravine and a river below. Where only the sleepers prevented you from falling into the savage river below. And should a train come at the same time... well there wasn't anywhere to go except down! (I had visions of a scene from the film The Lost Boys!) I did the usual Apache Indian trick of sticking my ear to the rail to see if I could hear it coming (?). I then had to coax Patrick over the bridge with me - he wasn't overly keen! Only after crossing did we notice the pedestrian bridge nearby!

We rolled into Aguas Calientes for about 17:00, after observing how hideous it was from the train track. Set below the majestic green mountains was the technicolor tourist town monstrosity! It just looked nasty!

In town I was sent to a hotel to pick up my main bag before trekking to a different location where I was staying. (This was supposed to have been arranged previously by X-Treme treks, but err, they'd forgotten about me!) To my surprise, I was staying in my own luxury room in a hotel, complete with hot showers!

It was obvious most people in town had arrived by train, mainly Americans in white pristine washed and pressed clothes. I was quite happy to tramp amongst them, looking haggard and hard, humping my pack in a fireman's lift, having not showered for days!

A group dinner in the evening presented an opportunity for many beers, culminating in some late night cocktail drinks with the guides. I was disappointed that I would only get to spend a few hours in my posh room before getting up at 4:00 am to begin my final accent of Machu Picchu...

Up at 4:00am to meet the superfit Americans. They wanted to make an early start to ensure they were at Machu Picchu for sunrise. It was an hour's trek back along the train track to reach the bottom of the National Park and then an arduous steep climb to the top of the mountain.

All the guides told us the uphill climb would take 1½ hours, I'm happy to report we did it in 45 minutes! Not bad for short fat Welshman! The superfit Americans didn't have any trouble and were eager to race up as quickly as possible. I was huffin' an' a puffin' behind them but still kept pace!

At the top you have to queue at a security gate to enter the premises. Although not yet open, we were almost the first in line. Only one coach load of American tourists got out of bed early enough to beat us!

Even after we were allowed through the Machu Picchu gates, even though it was light, we still had to wait a good 2 or 3 hours before dawn and the sun itself rose up over the mountain peaks. But that was it, the event everyone had been waiting for. The anticipation of sunrise over Machu Picchu was so great, the tension so immense, I was expecting a magical, no, mythical rebirth! As if a great dragon was meant to burst free from the sun's rays, swoop down through great bursts of fire breath and grab talons of virgins! But no, when the sun appeared over the top of the distant mountains, it just got a bit lighter! Oh well...

Still, the time waiting gave me chance to find the rest of my group (once they arrived on the bus!), chat and chill for a bit. I spent a lot time mooching around with Patricia, who was very pleased to have made it all the way. It was going great and we were getting along famously (yes!), but then I got distracted by Marceo feeding grass to the local Llamas and I just had to join in! Patricia walked away.

After the sun rise non-event and some group photos, the Machu Picchu tours commenced. Every guide on the ground suddenly became an expert and started taking their groups on a tour. It was all good stuff, seeing how they had rock compasses, stone hinges, earthquake proof buildings and sun dials that doubled up as calendars. That and the usual precision interlocked giant boulders the Inca's are famed for. Then rumour got out that the day's tourist quota for climbing Waynapicchu (aka Huayna Picchu) was almost up and I had to leave. The ascent of the lesser climbed Waynapicchu was most definitely on my list of things to achieve.

Only 400 people are allowed to climb Waynapicchu per day. Waynapicchu is the tall hill you see behind all the classic Machu Picchu postcard shots. Machu Picchu itself just being the city of ruins. After bimbleling around some ancillary temples I go for the Waynapicchu ascent itself. But I had been troubled by a decision I'd yet to make. Waynapicchu was just an hour to the top, but a detour around the back of the mountain to the lesser known Temple of the Moon and the Great Cave took 2½ hours. Did I really want to take the path less travelled? Once I arrived at the fork in the trail, clearly marked by a little signpost, the decision was obvious. Leading up the main path was a huge single file queue of panting and wheezing tourists, meandering up one step at a time. To the left, towards the Temple of the Moon, was not a single soul!

I happily bounded down the steps towards the Temple of the Moon. Skip, down, skippedy down. After 45 minutes of bouncing down, and still not seeing anyone, it suddenly hit me; I'm going to have to climb back up all that down and still climb Waynapicchu afterwards! D'Oh! It took about an hour to the great cave and a further 20 minutes to the Temple of the Moon. They're little houses carved into the rock face (but very cool!) and not very clearly marked. Probably because no-one ventures down there. Only on my way back up did I see any signs of life; 3 small groups in total. Although one was a German family whose daughter clung to the top of a particularly dodgy wooden ladder, frozen stiff with fear, crying and definitely not going any further!

I pushed myself to the top Waynapicchu and was happy to reach it in good time. It beheld awesome sights! Not just of the hundreds of mountain peaks in the surround, but of aerial views Machu Picchu itself. I was happy to sit on top for a while, cool down and take it all in.

Back at Machu Picchu I nonchalantly followed a late tour group or two and realised I'd missed out on a lot. There were still many cool aspects to the city I had not yet seen or knew existed. I would have loved to have stayed the whole day or longer but for some crappy reason we had to catch a train at 14:00pm! I stayed as late as I could and hopped on a tourist bus to take me back down to Aguas Calientes. If I'm ever in the area again I vowed I would spend at least one whole day in just Machu Picchu itself, to pick up on what I had missed.

The train must have been operated by a British Rail subsidiary for it was some half an hour late. Still, it gave me time to chat to Patricia who, as it turns out, is not only American but half Peruvian and staying with a friend of the family in Cusco. She gave me the house phone number and mentions we should go out for a drink. I rule! I rule! I suggest we head out tonight and join my new found Brazilian mates for they're all keen on a party night. But alas Patricia was adamant that after today's long day she'll be doing nothing more than an early night. (A bloody cheek I thought as I was the one who was up at 4:00am, hiked up the mountain and then climbed Waynapicchu. She had just taken the bus up and meandered around some ruins! But anyway... Girls, wotever.)

It was a jubilant train journey with the Brazilians cheering and drinking all the way back to... nowhere! We had to exit at some random local train station (with street vendors selling meat on a stick - yummy!) and pile into the back of several taxis for the concluding ride back to Cusco.

No rest for the wicked for as soon as I had cleaned up and handed in my disgusting hiking clothes to be incinerated, err, I mean washed, I had to join the Brazilians for celebratory drinks back out at club Mamma Africas. They had picked up a couple of Asian Brazilian chicks at Machu Picchu who were keen to drink also!

Later on in the evening I was very excited to catch sight of Patricia who had obviously changed her mind about staying in. Hooray! But then I noticed she was dancing with, well, err, grinding extremely closely with, a fellow American bloke from her tour group. I decided not to interrupt the pair just to announce my presence but rather, exhale a long sigh, toss her number in the bin and order another beer.

The afternoon sees me meeting up with Artur (the German) and the Brazilians. Yeah the Brazilians' English is as good as my Portuguese but Artur acts as a good translator. We go for some food and the Brazilians are nice enough to bring along Vanessa & Silvia. Most of them are leaving early in the morning so don't want another big night. The girls are staying for a few more days, but being girls, also want an easy night.

After goodbyes are said (Chow!) I decide to hunt down a quiet bar where I can catch up on my blog in my journal (before copying it to the website). I remember passing a quaint little bar down a cobbled street on my first night in Cusco. I didn't go in then because it was closing up for the night. But tonight's the night - I wonder the streets of Cusco until I find it.

I score! Mandela's Lounge is was exactly what I was looking for. Swathed in deep red colours and dark mahogany furniture it offers the perfect serene setting for some imaginative writing. My only mistake was sitting at the bar. For no sooner than I had ordered my first Cuscena beer and put pen to paper, the Bar Manager starts chatting to me. She's quite a pretty local girl by the name of Liska. My Spanglish is crap but thankfully her English is far better!

Conversation goes well. So well in fact, that when the bar is about to close I'm invited out to join Liska and the staff at a night club they're going out to. Oh boy - another late one coming up! The club is having it's opening night party and is strictly invite only. Well, it is unless you happen to know Liska, who happens to know everybody!

Club Izakaya - for a raver like myself, who's been stuck with Andean Pipe music and American Pop Dance for the past God knows number of months, this place is fantastic! It has smoke machines! It has lasers! It has strobes! It has, like, real club dance music!

Half way through the night he club owner comes over and offers Liska a job - she casually turns it down. Speaking to the owner myself he tells me Liska is the best manager in town and everyone wants her to work for them. This girl is beginning to impress me in more ways than one!

In all I have to say it was an awesome night out!

In Aguas Calientes, on the last day of the Inca Trail while waiting for the train, I lost my reflective green Oakley shades. It was a devastating loss I know. Today I set about rectifying that loss. Okay, so the replacement may not be as cool or as enduring as the Oakleys, but for a cheapy pair of shades wot keeps the sun out of my eyes, they'll do!

Later I meet up with Silvia and Vanessa at a restaurant known for it's giant Pisco Sours (a local drink) and chat about an Inca tour they'd just finished. I'm happy to note all went well, especially as I'd recommended the trip to them!

I go to visit my new home (Mandela's Lounge). I'm a little apprehensive, given my baptism of fire into the staff community last night but everyone seems happy enough to see me. The place is quiet and they soon decide to lock up for the night. Liska and her best mate (Um, I forget her name!) want to go to Mamma Africas - and I'm to join them, apparently! Arturo (apprentice bar staff) wanted to go to but Liska tells him he's got home work for exams to do instead! (It's quite sweet, Arturo is the young un' who just wants to hang out with the cool people! It seems I'm now one of those "cool" people!)

Mamma Africas is a gringo joint which gets packed out with tourists on a regular basis. Central to the theme are 3D paintings and sculptures of the Big 5. In a country steeped in it's own history and natural wonder, why this bar has to base its theme on an completely different and unrelated continent I have no idea!

Liska is good friends with the Gorilla working the door. I decide to behave myself! Inside it's no big surprise to find Liska knows everybody. This is handy as we get served very quickly! Later I find Liska used to run the place and they want her back! It seems this girl is good!

A while ago (whilst looking for guides to take me round the Torres del Paine) I came across a story of exceptional adventure. A story of a 2 week rafting expedition down the world's deepest canyon located in Peru. A story of 100 miles of continuous grade 4 white water. A story of camping out on undiscovered Inca ruins amongst remains of the dead. And as I looked into this story more, I discovered they were doing it AGAIN! This month! O'Boy O'Boy, how much did I want to do that!?

Needless to say, despite my travelling, I had been involved in close communication with the American organisers attempting to get myself signed up on this epic adventure! It culminated with a phone call this afternoon, it was all going well until...

"So fit are you?" he asked.

Thinking I'm no Olympic athlete but can usually keep up with most I replied, "Um, average I guess." It was the wrong answer.

"Average?" I sensed hostility in his voice. "AVERAGE!?" He was shouting now. "You want to join a two week extreme rafting expedition down the deepest and most treacherous canyon in the world and you're telling me your physical condition is just average?" I thought he was going to hang up at that point, but he sighed instead and added, "So what is average then?"

I suddenly needed to sound super fit. Knowing he knew the South American circuit pretty well I ran through some of my recent escapades, "Well, I recently climbed Huayna Potos�, a mountain in Bolivia over 6,000 metres high complete with a couple of days hiking at 5,000 metres for acclimatisation purposes.

"And I trekked the whole 10 day circuit in Torres del Paine, alone, outside of tourist season and with a couple of extra days tacked on for good measure. And um..."

"Okay then..." he interrupted, sounding very relieved. "You never mentioned any of this in your emails. Obviously your definition of 'average' is a hell of lot higher than what we have here in the States."

"Phew!" I gasped out loud.

"Now lets talk payment..."

Sweet! That was it - I was on! I was on the expedition!

The trip was to start in a little under 2 weeks, but there was one little problem... I didn't know how to raft.

Sure the organisers wanted experienced paddlers and in emails I was happy to reel off words like, "Grade 5", "White Nile in Africa" and "Keen Enthusiast" but in reality, I'd only done ½ a day rafting some 7 years ago. Ahem.

I needed to learn and I needed to learn fast. Luckily, Cusco is the gateway to the Apurimac River which is rated among the ten best rafting trips in the world. I just needed to book myself on a long weekend trip to pick up the basics! Sorted.

So while people were venturing in from all over the world to experience rafting on the Apurimac, I was just tagging along to gain some experience before I did some real rafting!

Today I sought out the famous 12 sided stone. It is buried within one of the many Inca walls holding up Cusco. It is brick in the wall, but none the less, it has not 4, not 5 but 12 sides!

I had passed it many times while wondering the streets of Cusco and wondered why so many tourists were taking photos in the same spot! It was not until I read a tourist guide that I heard about it! It is supposed to symbolise how great and perfect the Inca wall building skills were. To me it just says they mucked up a brick and had to manhandle it into place!

For dinner I joined Isabelle and some of her new friends in a resturant owned by a charity. Isabelle has a particular attachment to the resturant because she's trying to get a job with charity and stay in Peru a little longer. The place has a children's theme to it, complete with some funky hanging laterns in a corner over the stairs. It's not my favourite venue but it does do some fantastic giant Pisco Sours!

The evening was plesant enough with a spot of jenga thrown in for good measure. They did have a live musician on for while. He thought he was great, but I, err, needed a little more convincing!

Deciding on a quiet and early night I popped out in the evening to Club Xtreme for a quick drink, for Club Xtreme is always empty. It never even has enough people inside to take the chill out of the evening air, leaving me wondering how it can afford to stay open! Tonight, it seemed, was no exception.

A gaggle of girls entered after me, giggling and squawking, and followed me upstairs to the main bar. A bit later on, half way through my beer, the girls called me over. (I was practically the only other punter in the club!) They were local girls, and not knowing how good their English was, I really didn't wish to, for I wasn't in the mood for practicing Spanglish. But not wanting to appear impolite either, I tentatively introduced myself.

They were a gang of 4 friends, 3 of them having arrived today from Lima to see their mate. They were nice enough, and more than happy to chat with me. A few quick beers later and I innocently produced my camera. O'Boy! That went down exceptionally well! These girls loved themselves and instantly broke out into a flurry of poses!

As the beers flowed I started to be dragged into photos and then onto the dance floor. Attempting to muster a decent composure wasn't allowed for I was soon introduced to sandwiches and other dodgy, um, dances!

On the whole I'm not too sure what to type (and what not to!) - but suffice to say I don't recall having so much female attention. And for all those cynics amongst you, I'll add that I left with my wallet intact too!

Bed for 4:30am. Tired, tipsy but happy!

I spent most of the evening over Mandela's Lounge, sampling some of their more exotic cocktails. More often than not they came with a selection of blended fresh fruits. (By the way, passion fruit rocks!) Arturo was still learning the art, and Liska (quite the cocktail perfectionist) would dip a fresh straw in, sample the straw, and then invariably add more of something or other - usally alcoholic! (To be fair on Arturo, she would do the same with her own masterful creations.)

Later on they had a live band play in the bar. A mixture of western classics (with a white singer) with an Andean pan pipe slant...!? Actually it worked really well and even I was impressed! A couple of their hits include:

• Black Magic Woman - Fleetwood Mac

• Another Brick In The Wall - Pink Floyd

Mandela's Lounge is (was?) owned by an older white South African lady. She also owned a hostel in Cusco was wanted to concentrate on that business, so was open up to offers to sell Mandela's Lounge.

Today when I walked into Mandela's Lounge I walked stright into the middle of a business deal - Mandela's Lounge being sold! A conglomerate of 3 local entrepreneurs had saved up and pooled their money to buy the bar for a sum equivalent to £15,000.

I was quite shocked really for I wasn't aware (until now) that the bar was either up for sale or being sold. I really liked Mandela's Lounge, it was already an established business and I couldn't stop thinking, "But I have £15,000..."

I guess that moment was quite a turning point, for it was then I began to tune into the idea of a life outside of the UK.

Anyway, before I could think about anything too seriously we all headed out to Mamma Africas for some after hours drinking!

"Steve! Wake! Steve, you wake now!" I was being violently shaken.

"Uh. Eh? Wot?" I open my eyes to find Carlos, the hostel owner in my face.

"Raft people. They phone. You not there! You wake now!"

"Eh?" I check the time, 6:00 am. Crap. I was supposed to be starting my mini-rafting trip half hour ago. Good job I gave them Carlos's number!

I jump up and gather my things. Luckily I'd already packed most of my stuff last night but I still had lots of crap littering the room. I begin to gather it all up only to have a finger wagged in my face by Carlos. "No, no, I do. I do. We go now!" Good ol' Carlos, he's a trust worthy fellow and seemed to have taken a liking to me. So I just grab my main pack and Carlos and I jog the 15 minute route to the rafting shop and meeting place.

The group I had booked with had already departed. Crap. But I'd been moved onto a trip with Eric Adventures instead, I was still going! Bonus! I pile onto a mini-bus with my group and let the 3 hour long journey begin.

Man, I was so heavily hung over! We stop at a market and I immediately jump out - I need liquid refreshment and I need to line my stomach and I need it NOW! I return to the bus clutching multiple bags of mystery fruit juices and a sea food fry-up. Not exactly what I had in mind but it had to do!

When we reach the put in point I'm still feeling pretty rough so I'm happy to watch the guides unload the bus and set up the rafts. Our main guide is a little guy called Jesus! But by all accounts a very experienced rafting guide who'd personally been doing the Apurimac on a weekly basis for many, many years.

Gear stuffed in to dry bags and us blokes stuffed in to wet suits it was time to get wet. We all jump off a rock one by one and practice getting rescued by either rope or safety kayak. We dry off, get in a raft and our guide capsizes it!? What the...? Okay, so we're to practice getting back in it! The water was pretty cold and certainly helped wake up the senses from the hangover!

It tends to be a rafting thing that when ever you finish a named rapid, those who're left in the boat do some sort of gay ritual - like high-5 your paddles together and shout something absurd. When asked what to do, me and my macho boat crew felt our helmets and decided to head butt each other instead. Our guide was impressed - he said in all his time of rafting he'd never seen that one!

So... The Apurimac, mainly Grade 3 and 4 (I think) - so like, how hard can it be...? O'Boy!

In at the deep end I certainly was. I mean, just look at the pictures!

Jesus, our guide, knew the rapids well and was able to relax the millisecond we were out of immediate danger. So as soon as we cleared our first big drop, but still in the middle of 3 foot waves, I was quite unprepared for the full on ferocious head butt that Jesus launched at me - nearly knocking me overboard! But I learn quick and after the next rapid I happily returned the favour! Whack!

We set up camp on a sandy beach after a long half day on the water and made fire, followed by food.

So, my crew. On the supply raft was two Jewish Israeli guys who enjoyed the weed and seemed permanently stoned. On my raft were a group of 4 Ozzy blokes who'd come to Peru for a bit of surf. They were all built and pretty much stereotypical in every respect. Their main concern in life seemed to be getting laid as often as possible. Despite this they were happy there weren't any girls on the trip for it gave them a open opportunity to brag about previous conquests. I was quite happy listening in. I mean, I have to admit the story with the girl with the surprise wooden leg was quite funny!

It was early start and after a quick cup of porridge everything was stuffed back into the dry bags and we all stuffed ourselves back into wet clothes. It's good to note that even hardened surfers complain about putting on a wet wetsuit!

And today's activities? Why, more of the same of course! And something new too! For one particular deep section of rapids we were able to jump overboard and drift through them. Easier said than done for you're forever being bashed in the head by furious waves! Then they had a boogie board to try out too - again, I'm not convinced as to it's effectiveness! I think inside the raft is the sensible place to be!

We stop at another sandy beach for a very late lunch and decide to set up camp at the same spot. The first duty was to find some firewood for the evening. The others potch about looking for dry drift wood by the river. I go straight for the chase and head into the woods at the back.

Most of the dead good stuff was still attached to rotten trees, necessitating I climb trees to break off branches. Half way up one tree I'm about to put hand on a lumpy knot when I decide to look closer. Hmm, it wasn't a lumpy knot at all, but rather a mini-wasps nest. And these were rather large angry red and evil looking wasps too! I look around the tree, above and below me, and discover all the branches are coated with these mini nests. How I didn't squash one climbing up I do not know, but it made climbing down a damned sight more difficult! So I kinda decided to leave that tree alone and find a different one!

I nipped back to camp to borrow a safety rope to help pull some branches down. On my return I discover the others had been playing silly buggers. They'd paddled across the river, mooched around and come back, leaving one of their mates stranded! In the end he had to swim back! No one had any wood though. Good thing I'd dragged back half a dead tree then!

To while away some time in the afternoon the guides had us play some games using paddles and other rafting gear. Initially everyone felt pretty exhausted from rafting but we all got into it once we started. And we all knew the guides had been playing these games for years!

One simple game (and a favourite of mine) involved taking a paddle, spinning round it a set number of times (to be counted out by someone else) before trying to run round a pole in the ground and back up the river bank. Sounds easy but more than one fellah ended up splat in the river!

Another game had one person assume a press up position while his partner leans over him and places a stick in the ground - only he's not allow to touch the ground or throw the stick. The team with the stick furthest away wins! It had a bit too much bodily contact in it for this British guy, but it would make a good party game!

More bonfires in the evening and I got to recite my reasoning for coming on the trip. Everyone sounded mightily impressed!

Another early start - I mean who wants to wait until the water heats up eh? And today's activities? Why, more of the same of course!

At one particular part of the river, where the water flows underneath itself creating a constant wave, if you align the raft just right and throw all the weight (meaning bodies) forward then you're supposed to be able to surf that wave indefinitely. I say supposed to because our raft didn't quite get it right. In fact, we got it quite wrong and capsized!

So, tips for rafting? Try these:

• Don't paddle like a girl and don't just dip your oar in. Really reach forward (or backward) over the side of the raft and use your whole body (not just the arms) to move that volume of water.

• Strong core muscles are important for balance and helps you be more agile under difficult circumstances. (i.e. all circumstances!)

• Don't fall in the river.

As an unexpected bonus, it turns out one of the safety kayakers kept a video recorder with him and filmed us coming down some of the more "interesting" rapids. Not only that but he was going to edit it together into a video and have a premier viewing at 8:00 pm on a big projected screen at one of the clubs! Wousers! That's wicked! So it gave us all a chance to go home, get scrubbed up before heading out for the Friday's night's entertainment!

You think the photos here are good? Well they ain't nothing compared to the video - it's awesome!

My tube of toothpaste has finally run out meaning...

It's Home Time!

Timbo and his Colin Bird are also getting married on the 7th July so I should really make an effort to return to the UK for then! (Engaged on 6/6/06, married on 7/7/07.) The white water rafting expedition down the Cotauhasi Canyon finishes on the 3rd July so I decide to travel back straight after that.

I spend the day on the Internet and visiting various travel agents in and around Cusco looking for the best deal to get me home. But getting back from Arequipa (the nearest town to the rafting expedition) seems a bit of an ordeal and it'll take me a couple of days, but hopefully I'll land back in Ol'Blighty on the 5th. That sounds ideal as it'll give me a day or two to recover before making my way over to the Wedding venue.

As a whole I think it's probably a good time to head back. I've been viewing a lot of spectacular sights of late and I've noticed I've not been coo-ing and arr-ing as much as everybody body else. I know I used to but now it's almost a case of, "Naaa, seen better." So there doesn't seem much point in travelling and seeing more sights until I can refresh my perspective and appreciate them fully once more.

So that just leaves me chilling around Cusco for a few days before it's time to leave for Arequipa! Fancy a beer anyone?

I've been staying Hospedaje Samanapata for a wee while now. It's a brand new place, and I was one of the first people to stay. The hallway is open air (usual in this place) and it has several rooms, each with 1 to 3 beds. In my time there I slept in them all. When other guests came and went, Carlos kept moving me about to make optimum use of the rooms! Carlos, the owner, doesn't speak any English. Well, he knows his 6 words of English and I know my 6 words of Spanish, but that didn't stop us getting on.

One day I arrived back late morning (I, um, hadn't been to bed that night) and all I wanted to do was crash and sleep. Only I found all my stuff neatly packed into my rucksack laying in the hall way. "Err, Carlos. What's going on?" He explained that a group of people turned up last night but he was a bed short. He didn't think I'd be coming back, so he, err, moved me out! But he dragged out a sofa and brought down some blankets so I could sleep in the hall way instead! Everyone got to know me that day! Carlos was kind enough not to charge me for that night!

Then there was the incident with the electric shower. All hot showers in this country are a cold shower with an electric heating element fixed to the shower head. Sounds dangerous? It is! This one hadn't been properly grounded (or something) and when I used it, I got this tingling feeling all over! Then the tingling got stronger and stronger and... then stronger! I had to literally jump out of the shower to avoid being electrocuted! I re-enacted the episode to Carlos (with clothes on) and he replaced the shower the very next day.

In return Carlos kept introducing me to all the female occupants! He always got very overly excited when an English speaking girl stayed and would happily set us up! It got kinda embarrassing as I never had much to say to them! "Hi, I'm Steve! Nice to meet you and err, I'm not sure what to say but, um, Carlos here wanted me to speak to you." I would look behind to find Carlos nodding manically and gesturing with his hands for me to continue! I found it all very difficult but it seemed to please Carlos no end!

Just thought I'd share with you an inspirational quote from Nelson Mandela that's up on the wall in Mandela's Lounge.

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us, it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." - Nelson Mandela, 1994.

In the morning I Liska took me round the markets so I could see where the fruits, meat and vegetables for the kitchen in Mandela's Lounge come from. Obviously Liska knew everybody in the market too!

Liska seems to be one of the few people dedicated to her bar profession. She keeps a notebook and in it are all her obsersations from various bars and clubs she visits. From that she's able to critique any place we walk into - we're talking everything: room layout, drink choice, interior design, lighting, colours, chairs... The girl is seriously good!

Come evening, after the Lounge closes, we all pile back to Club Izakaya. Only this time it's empty and lacks any kind of atmosphere. The place is still dark and there's still lasers, lights and strobes being brandished about, but only us to enjoy it. The bar man quickly got bored, jumped onto the dance floor, bottle of spirit in hand, and started drawing patterns on the floor with the booze before setting fire to it!

Cool! Fire & Lasers! Lasers & Fire! Cool!

People eventually turn up but Club Izakaya still closed early, well, before sunrise! Not wanting the night to end so soon, this being my last night in Cusco, we ended up in Mamma Africas. The generic American party music may not be to my liking but Mamma Africas always throws a good party and with girls dancing on the bar, tonight was no exception!

Tonight I leave Cusco, bound to Arequipa on an overnight bus. This is probably a good thing, for while I've been killing time waiting for the Cotauhasi Rafting expedition to commence, you've probably noticed I've had one or two late nights more than I should have!

It's a sad day for I've had a great time in Cusco and got to know some good people well. I head over to Mandela's Lounge for the last time and say goodbye.

I pick up my things from the Hospedaje and turn to leave. Carlos the owner looks sad. He hands me a large beer. I check the time - I have just enough! We chink bottles, cheer and drink. I finish it. Carlos breaks out another beer. Well, if I drink it fast enough, why not!? Cheers! But then he gives me a 3rd! I tell him he's crazy and that I have a bus to catch. He insists on the beer. he knows the buses and their schedule and claims I have plenty of time. Damn him!

Finishing the 3rd beer I insist on leaving, Carlos reluctantly agrees but says he'll walk me to the taxi, helping me with my bags. Half way there he man handles me into a shop, breaks into the fridge, opens up a bottle of beer and hands it over! I tap my watch, "Time, Carlos, time!"

"No problem! We walk, we drink!" And with that buys several more rounds of beer! All I can do is sigh and roll my eyes - I really want to catch this bus! But I'm also a bit touched by it all. I mean, I'm supposed to be his tenant but I've obviously ventured into friend territory. I also feel a little guilty for we're drinking all the profit I've made him!

Anyhow I joke about how I really hope the bus has a toilet on board, for if not, with all the beer I've just downed, I'm really in trouble! Carlos laughs - I'm actually deadly serious! True to his word Carlos gets me a taxi and I arrive at the bus terminal in plenty of time before it departs and I make good use of the station toilets before we leave!

News in brief...

• Climbed Machi Picchu & Waynupicchu & the Temple of the Moon.

• Went White Water Rafting for 3 days, class 3 & 4.

• Toothpaste ran out.

• Bought a ticket back to the UK (hoping to arrive on 5th July but with 4 flights over 2 days, who knows!).

• Determined that party life in Cusco, Peru is bad for ones health.

• Am going on a 2 week White Water Rafting Expedition in the Cotahuasi canyon. 100 miles of continuous Grade 4 with a couple of Grade 5 plus thrown in for good measure.

See you all soon!

Steve.