As we've already said, Barbados buses are a great experience but for that little extra freedom you can hire your very own set of wheels fairly cheaply.

"Go Greased Lightning, burning up the quarter-mile..."

In our nippy Moke, we headed from the south coast to the north-east end of Barbados; the 'Scotland' district, so called because of its rugged (mountainous?) coastline.

Two of our favourite Barbados attractions lie in this region, the first being Flower Forest. This is a lush botanical garden teeming with tropical plants and flowers, and criss-crossed by numerous paths and shortcuts.

No matter when you visit, the displays of Flower Forest are never less than spectacular...

...but for sheer variety, colour and beauty among flowers, nothing on the island can top Orchid World in the parish of St George.

This six acre garden, surrounded by fields of sugar cane, is home to around 20,000 orchids, laid out along carefully tended paths and in dedicated greenhouses. Time for more pics.

Engrossed in the beauty of these gardens, time passes quickly and although we could happily have spent all day perusing plants and flowers we wanted to fit in another favourite activity; a long afternoon walk along the rugged and unspoilt east coast of Barbados.

Appetites duly aroused, we drove into Holetown back on the west coast where some terrific restaurants are located.

Sunday 1 October

Barbados caters for all of our favourite pursuits, including wildlife spotting. There is a Wildlife Reserve here, at which you can see native Green Monkeys in the wild, along with various other animals, many of which are free to roam the same paths as the visitors. This morning though we stayed closer to home, choosing to visit the Grahame Hall Nature Sanctuary; a mangrove swamp and the last naturally occurring wetland on the island.

Now sympathetically landscaped, the sanctuary provides a resting place for many migratory birds and a home to local species. Rarer inhabitants can be viewed in two huge walk-through aviaries.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For Sunday evening, we'd booked a sunset cruise. What could be more romantic than quaffing cocktails and scoffing canapes on board a luxury catamaran whilst observing a glorious Caribbean sunset and taking the opportunity to swim with turtles? A pity then, that as we arrived at the harbour the heavens opened.

Thankfully, the shower was short lived and the evening was every bit as excellent as we'd hoped.

Monday 2 October

As anticipated, our week in Barbados had hurtled by - an unintended but necessary rest-stop squeezed in between our recent journey through South America and our forthcoming whirlwind tour of Central America.

We ended our week pretty much as we started it; the morning was spent on a return to Bridgetown, revisiting some of our favourite haunts. Then it was back to Dover Beach for lunch - a traditional dish of Souse - specially prepared for us by Gillian, a new-found friend who runs a bar by the beach. The remainder of our last afternoon was spent soaking up as much of that Bajan sunshine as possible...

...and then, once more, our beach clothes were packed away and our sandals consigned to the bottom of our rucksacks. Would we get to wear them again this year? Who could tell?

Barbados - Part 2 remains copyright of the author andymoore, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Various planning anomalies in our round-the-world itinerary forced a slight detour from Quito to Miami upon us, prior to the start of the next major leg through Central America.
We'll return to Florida in a later entry, noting here only that the USA immigration process was a pain, and that airport taxis are phenomenally expensive after South America. Thus Monday night was spent in an airport hotel, before a return to the airport and a short flight to one of our most beloved destinations...

Tuesday 26 September

We're cheating a bit here - we've often visited Barbados before, but being so close to the USA, we just couldn't resist snatching a week's R & R on this tiny Caribbean jewel.

Okay, so we´re biased, but what's not to like about near constant sunshine, flawless white sandy beaches, warm sea, welcoming inhabitants, great food etc.? Oh, and Barbados also produces the world's oldest and (in our humble opinion) best rum.

Landing on Tuesday afternoon at the newly modernised Grantley Adams Airport, we painlessly cleared Customs and Immigration and took a leisurely taxi ride to our hotel, the Croton Inn.

By the time we'd settled, unpacked and showered it was evening so we deferred further exploration and enjoyed a meal and a couple of Banks' ("the Beer of Barbados") at the Croton´s restaurant.

Wednesday 27 September

With posting and shopping to do today, we headed to Barbados' capital city - Bridgetown. The island is tiny; 14 miles wide and 21 miles long, so getting about is easy. Two types of bus exist - the respectable blue Government-run type, and the privately-run yellow or white-with-maroon-stripe taxi-buses. For an unforgettable ride, go for the taxi-buses. You can usually hear them long before they arrive as they blast out music and blare their horns, and they generally travel at around Mach 3.

Bridgetown is always bustling and largely friendly, but unlike a lot of capital cities it´s also well laid out and attractively landscaped.

Broad Street is lined with every kind of shop the average tourist needs, so dodging through the crowds of browsing ´cruise-shippers´ we headed up to the Post Office to offload some weight from our backpacks by sending stuff home.
Posting taken care of, we returned to Bridgetown´s beautiful harbour and to perhaps our favourite watering-hole in the entire world (excuse the shameless plug), the Waterfront Cafe. There really is no better place to relax with a beer over lunch, looking at expensive yachts bobbing on the sun-dappled water and to watch the Bajan world go by. Aaaaahhh.

Customer parking outside the Waterfront Cafe...

Thursday 28 September

Did we mention the rum? Mount Gay Rum, founded in 1703, is the oldest rum in the world and a visit to the distillery for a tour is a must.

"Oh, and a can of Coke too, please"

The trip through Mount Gay's modern Visitor Centre takes in an educational film charting the history and process of rum manufacture in Barbados, a close-up look at some of the stills and other vessels historically used by the distillery and a visit to the bottling plant. Finally, (and best of all) a visit to the bar provides the opportunity to sample the product -in various guises- at first hand. Having opted for a lunch-inclusive tour, by 2:00pm we found ourselves awash with rum and stuffed with flying-fish (a Bajan delicacy, also unmissable) and therefore needing to get back to basics, i.e. lying on a beach.

The bus back from Mount Gay dropped us at the holiday-resort rich area of St. Lawrence Gap wherein lies the busy-but-wonderful Dover Beach. A couple of sun loungers and a beach umbrella easily arranged, the world just slowed down and drifted with the tide for a couple of hours...

We wouldn't normally advocate fast food as a good evening meal, but Chefette - a Barbados chain - is a bit different. Somehow, the delicious rotis (beef or chicken curry parcelled in a thin tortilla wrap) and broasted chicken they serve up definitely defy the term 'junk food'.

Friday 29 September

Let's face it; the theme of this week is relaxation - no more overnight buses, no exhausting treks, no cold showers; the coldest thing here is the beer. Barbados beach life is addictive, and with Dover Beach no more than twenty minutes' walk away nothing could be better than a lazy day tanning in the sun punctuated by the occasional thirty-second dash into a blood-warm sea.

One event dominates Friday nights on the south coast of Barbados - the fish fry at the fishing village of Oistins. Here, locals and tourists alike can party the night away in a lively atmosphere, taking their pick from the many stalls selling grilled and seasoned fresh fish, and numerous other caribbean delicacies such as macaroni pie, rice and peas, fried chicken and more all washed down with plenty of Banks' beer and/or rum.

For us, it's the perfect introduction to a Barbados weekend.

Barbados - part 1 remains copyright of the author andymoore, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Back on dry land in Quito after four nights at sea in the Galapagos Islands, sleep - undisturbed by the 'motion of the ocean' - came easily. Through necessity, Friday was devoted to the mundanity of five days' laundry as well as postcard writing, blog updating and so on. Later, we found a pub called The Turtle's Head(!) run by an affable Scotsman who brews his own UK-style beers. Perfect.

Saturday 23 September

Chores completed and conscious that tomorrow would mark the end of our days in South America, we wanted to leave with another small adventure under our belts rather than spend the weekend wandering around shopping centres. How to follow Galapagos? Another quick search of the tour agencies turned up a one-day trek on Cotopaxi, an active volcano, and the second highest in Ecuador.

Distant Cotopaxi

With instructions to turn up at the tour agency's office at 08:00 on Sunday morning, we paid up and began looking forward to another good walk.

Sunday 24 September

Warm sunshine greeted us on Sunday morning - perfect for a hike up a volcano. We arrived early at the tour office and waited. And waited. An hour passed and we were about to give up and make some irate phone calls when the owner of the tour agency appeared and apologised profusely; our intended guide had been involved in a car accident! Luckily he was unhurt, but we needed an alternative guide at short notice. Rescue arrived in the genial form of Carlos; a guide so in love with his job that he was happy to give up his day off to take two Gringos up Cotopaxi. With an hour already lost we jumped into Carlos' four-by-four and set off on the two-hour journey to the national park.

Cotopaxi's beautiful setting

Climbing to the summit of Cotopaxi was well beyond the scope of our one-day hike; instead we would drive to the highest car-park then take an ascending path to a large wooden refuge roughly 16000 feet above sea level.

Overconfident having conquered the likes of Ben Lomond and Choquequirao we set off at a pace, buoyed by the fact that families with small children appeared to be making the same climb. Big mistake; walking uphill on soft volcanic ash at high altitude soon takes it out on your lungs and legs! Slowly but surely though, the bright yellow refuge crept closer and closer

and with a final push we made it.

During the climb the sun had become less and less visible and the skies had begun to darken, the pleasantly warm temperature giving way to an autumnal chill.

Once inside the warm refuge, Carlos produced an impromptu but impressive packed lunch thrown together at short notice by his wife that morning, and we relaxed and chatted whilst observing 'proper' climbers prepare for their ascent to the volcano's summit.

Cotopaxi is home to one of the few existing equatorial glaciers, and after lunch we picked our way along a rocky path to take a look.

As we admired the beauty of the contrasting blue and grey hues of this immense ice formation, the skies suddenly opened releasing a torrent of hail! Luckily we'd come prepared and quickly donned raincoats...

Time to head back down again. Unsurprisingly, the return down to the car-park was significantly quicker than the upward climb. Before leaving Cotopaxi, we just had time to visit a peaceful lagoon to visit the local birdlife,

and a tiny museum packed with information on the volcano as well as some rather sinister, and slightly threadbare, stuffed exhibits of native birds and animals.

We'd done it; after a shaky start, we'd managed to partially climb a volcano in the company of a fantastically knowledgeable and friendly guide, visit another glacier, and experience summer sun and winter chill in the space of a few highly enjoyable hours.

We'd reached the end of our journey across another great continent, our last day spent -literally- on a high.

Climbing on Cotopaxi remains copyright of the author andymoore, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Flying over Ecuador's capital city Quito, you can't help noticing just how colourful the place is; the smallest house to the tallest high-rise is painted in bright pastel shades giving the place a happy, welcoming aspect.

We'd come to Ecuador with one aim in mind; to make a trip to the legendary Galapagos Islands

Our hostel was located in La Mariscal, a safe, tourist-friendly area of the city and once settled, we began a hasty trawl of the Galapagos tour agencies lining La Mariscal's streets. The website of one particular company -Galaeco- had appealed to us and soon after stepping inside their office, we'd struck a bargain deal for a five-day Galapagos cruise starting on Sunday. Yippee! A quick raid on the nearest cashpoint (Galapagos tours ain't cheap) and we were sorted. We celebrated in customary style (hic!)

Friday 15 and Saturday 16 September

Friday began with a trip to the office of TAME, the airline which would fly us to the Galapagos Islands. Tickets safely in hand, we spent the rest of Friday and Saturday just exploring La Mariscal, taking in such exciting places as the local shopping mall(!), and discovering a particularly good Argentinian Parillada restaurant (a hard habit to break for committed carnivores like us).
Then it was time to stuff our day-sacks with all the stuff we would need over the next five days; clothes, cameras, binoculars, sun-cream, toiletries etc. before grabbing an early Saturday night.

Sunday 17 September

A very early start at Quito's domestic airport soon saw us boarding the plane to Baltra, our starting point in the Galapagos, where we were met by a tiny, enthusiastic dynamo of a tour-guide called Nadine.

Bussed to the harbour, we got our first taste of the Galapagos way of life; a mass of sealions lounged and dozed on the harbour benches, oblivious to the hordes of tourists eagerly snapping away at them.

A small launch took us to our home for the next five days; the yacht Floreana.

Though necessarily small, our cabin was comfy with a miniature en-suite bathroom and the yacht itself was fine, containing a compact dining room, a middle deck, and an upper sun-deck with canopy and loungers - perfect for enjoying sunsets with a cool drink...

Soon we were underway to our first destination, an afternoon on Bachas Beach, a long stretch of white sand punctuated by black, rocky pools which serve as home to hundreds of 'Sally Lightfoot' crabs

After a couple of hours spent just relaxing in the sun or swimming in the crystal waters, Nadine led us off for our first nature walk. Following the dunes away from the beach, we soon spotted turtle tracks - in one case leading to a nest with prospective hatchlings, where a Great Blue Heron patiently awaited for his meal to emerge...

Marvelling at the beauty of our surroundings as we walked further and further from the beach, we didn't notice the sun slipping down the sky

and all too soon we were boarding the Floreana again to be briefed for the following day, enjoy a good evening meal and retire.

Monday 18 September

We had been moored overnight and so sleeping 'at sea' had been no problem. After an early breakfast we sailed north for North Seymour a typically arid islet, home to a wide variety of exotic birds such as the Blue-footed Booby:-

I'm a big fan of Boobies. (Sorry, couldn't resist).

and the Magnificent Frigate Bird - often to be found hovering above our yacht:-

As with most of the islands though, the first creature you encounter is the Sealion. They are everywhere!

Galapagos wildlife is remarkable because none of the animals or birds have learned to fear humans; if you walk up to a Sealion it will just lie at your feet and look up at you questioningly. Unless it's feeling playful, in which case it may chase you... touching the animals is, however, strictly forbidden.

A leisurely two-kilometre walk took us inland and then around to the rocky coastline again giving an opportunity to see a good variety of exotic birdlife.

After lunch on board, we cruised to Santa Fe for the afternoon.
Sante Fe's endemic wildlife suffered at the hands of goats introduced by early farmers, but these intruders were eradicated in 1971 and the native wildlife has bounced back.

Besides the inevitable Sealions, colourful Land Iguanas and Darwin's Finch can be found here.

Tuesday 19 September

Sailing during the night is a different matter... sleep wasn't too bad but the rolling motion of our below-stairs cabin might prove too much for some.

We'd cruised to the beautiful and remote island of Espanola where we would spend the whole day, taking time in the sparkling blue waters and Sealion infested beaches of Gardner Bay

before heading inland to follow a spectacular clifftop path giving further sightings of Boobies (Red-footed, Blue-footed, Hooded and Nazcar), Brown Pelicans, basking Land Iguanas and -amazingly- a close-up audience with a pair of courting Waved Albatrosses.

Here too, we witnesses a spectacular blow-hole formed by the crashing waves being forced upward through a narrow fissure in the rocks.

Just another day in the Galapagos, but for us, awesome.

Wednesday 20 September

Our last full day in the Galapagos was spent visiting the aptly named Floreana. In the morning, those so inclined headed off for a diving expedition to an almost totally submerged volcano; the ring of crater rocks visible above the waterline has earned this site the name "Devil's Crown", and in good conditions it's possible to snorkel with White-tipped and Hammerhead sharks, Tiger-snake eels, Eagle Rays, Sea Turtles and more.

Other than the wildlife (sealions in abundance, naturally) the big attraction of Floreana is Post-Office Bay. Given the lack of human habitation on the majority of the other islands, could there really be a post-office here. Well, no.

In 1793 a whaling captain called James Colnett placed a barrel here into which sailors from the many visiting ships could leave letters to be collected and delivered by other ships sailing to the appropriate destination. The tradition - although not the original barrel - survives today.

"So where do I cash my GIRO?"

Just beyond the post-office lie the remains of a fishing village originally established by a group of Norwegians in 1926. Underestimating the harsh reality of living in the Galapagos, the village was abandoned after only a few years - little evidence now survives.

With the sky darkening it was time to leave the island Floreana to return to the yacht Floreana; a long sail lay ahead of us to Santa Cruz, home to the Charles Darwin Research Station.

For our final night on board, cocktails with the captain and the crew were laid on and we spent the evening chatting with new-found friends.

Thursday 21 September

How quickly five days have passed! After breakfast this morning our bags were taken on deck and we said our fond farewells to the crew of the Floreana before landing on Santa Cruz and jumping in a fleet of Land Rovers to be taken to the Charles Darwin Research Station.

Here we learnt some of the history, both natural and human, of the islands before taking a walk to see some of the Galapagos' best known inhabitants; the Giant Tortoises , including the last surviving tortoise from the island of Pinta - "Lonesome George".

Lonesome George - last of the Pinta tortoises

A Galapago, by the way, is a type of riding saddle, reminiscent in shape of the giant tortoise's shell.

A large part of the work at the station is the breeding and rearing of tortoises, and the stages of the process from incubation to release can be seen here.

Sadly, the visit here was brief - we still had a lengthy bus journey to the airport to meet our midday flight back to Quito. Our time in the Galapagos Islands had come to an end, but like so many of our adventures this year, the memories will last for ever.

"Are you sure these are Dwarf Terrapins, love?"

Ecuador remains copyright of the author andymoore, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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After the exertions of the Choquequirao trek, we were just happy to spend time relaxing around Cusco.

The city - at 3,350 meters above sea level, one of the highest in the world - is surrounded by mountains, and provided the perfect setting for the last couple of days of our brief visit to Peru.

A maze of charming narrow backstreets, bustling with hotels, hostels and travel agencies emerges onto a large and pretty square centred with an ornate fountain,

and bordered by buildings of beautiful architecture.

Happily for us, the square is also home to a couple of decent watering holes...

Rested, recovered and recuperated the time had sadly arrived for us to bid farewell to Peru and move on again.

Cusco again remains copyright of the author andymoore, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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An epic, non-Machu Picchu (see last entry) hike whilst in Peru seemed like a great idea at the time. Trawling the local tour operators, a four-day fully-catered hike to Choquequirao - an impressive, intact, but relatively tourist-free Inca settlement situated high on a mountain - sounded perfect.

Friday 08 September

Arriving at the small sleepy village of Cachora on the outskirts of Cuzco, we were introduced to our 'catering' team for the next four days; a chef, his assistant, a horse-handler, and our trusty guide, Ronal.

The Choquequirao Four

As we ate breakfast, our packs, food, tents, and equipment were loaded onto horses which were then briskly lead away by the handler and the chef.

Well fed and raring to go, we headed down Cachora's dusty main street, across a patch of farmland and eventually onto the track to Choquequirao itself. Despite the early start the day was already hot, but the long opening stretch began on level ground before ultimately descending steeply into the river valley where we would camp for the night. We kept a fair walking pace and high spirits. We'd that this trek would be hard, but -hey!- we'd yomped up Ben Lomond in New Zealand with no problems and by comparison, today seemed a doddle... Oh how we'd look back later and laugh (cry) at such naivety.

Anyway, the scenery was breathtaking and the walking was good.

Around midday we caught up with the chef and horses and a surprisingly good impromptu lunch was rustled up using nothing more than veg, rice and a camp-stove.

The afternoon's walk lasted only three or so hours before we arrived at camp, where our tent had already been pitched and our packs were waiting - what service! Within half an hour, afternoon tea(!) was served and then we were free to relax until dinner, when the chef again produced an impressive three-course meal using maximum skill and minimum equipment.

After around seven hours' walking, sleep came easily in the cosy black silence of our tent.

Saturday 09 September

06.45 - breakfast time. If nothing else, we were incredibly well fed on this trek. Breakfast consisted of fresh fruit, bread, coffee and pancakes, plus all the Coca leaves (to combat altitude sickness) we could eat.

Today's walk would be long, but at least began downhill to a river crossing deep in the valley, on the other side of which we would begin the steep climb towards Choquequirao itself.

A straightforward 40-minute walk brought us to the river. Once over the bridge though, it was time to ascend the first mountain. Still early morning, we had lower temperatures on our side and it didn't take us long to realise that we needed all the help we could get.

The path consisted of a steeply ascending zig-zag; the photos don't do justice to the length of each section of path, and as our legs grew steadily more tired those zigs and zags seemed to become progressively steeper...

A mid-morning refreshment stop couldn't have been more welcome, and partially restored by sugary Fanta and Inca Kola we began to climb again. With the baking sun now climbing high, the real slog began...

"But I've only got little legs..."

Distant Choquequirao beckoned, but as the warm afternoon gently passed the apparently endless ascending paths conspired to sap every last drop of our stamina. Stops for water became more frequent, and our pace became more gradual. And then, somehow, miraculously, the climbing ended and the path levelled into a wide sweeping arc between our mountain and the next, where the vast terraces of ancient Choquequirao rose on the slopes far below and to our left.

Progress was easier now, but even with the spritely Ronal urging us on we were both knackered. The crunch came when we eventually reached a fork in the path; a left turn sloped gently down to this evening's camp and a respite for hideously aching legs. A right turn offered a further long, steady climb up to and around Choquequirao
itself. Sharon sensibly opted for the camp, but having come this far I had to go on...

...but this final push was well worth the effort. For my money, Choquequirao is at least as good as Machu Picchu but doesn't yet suffer from hordes of tourists crawling over every inch of it. This then, was the scene as the sun began to sink on day two of the trek:-

Sunday 10 September

Whilst yesterday's triumphant arrival at Choquequirao gave me a wonderful feeling of fulfilment, I was so glad to arrive back at camp, eat another of cheffy's excellent meals and collapse into my sleeping bag alongside an already-snoring Sharon.

Awakening this morning it seemed as though someone had encased our legs in plastercasts overnight! Today, thankfully, was to be the reverse of yesterday's arduous climb. Not to be underestimated, of course; we still had a huge distance to cover, and this time with stiff, aching muscles, but at least it was 90% downhill.

We were shocked at breakfast to see that one of the packhorses had bled profusely from the neck; according to the handler the horse had been prey to a vampire bat during the night. Ugh.

Inevitably, travelling downhill was quicker than climbing although we were still overtaken shamefully quickly by the chef and the horses despite leaving camp a good hour or more ahead of them. The day seemed cooler and as we hit our stride even the tension in our leg muscles seemed to ease. Not being as time-pressured as yesterday we were able to fully appreciate the majesty of our surroundings once more.

In what seemed a surprisingly short time, we were following the path along the river valley to the bridge that would take us over and up to the camp at the end of day three. But as we made that brief climb to camp, warning bells began to sound - and fresh agonies sprang from our tortured leg muscles. This was a one-hour climb; tomorrow we would be climbing solidly for a good five hours...

Monday 11 September

Ronal had been very patient with us; he sensed that we might not be quite as fit as we thought, and so today he cannily ensured that we quickly left camp after a very early breakfast.

What can I tell you about that last day's walk? It was hot, it was strenuous, it was exhausting and it was long. Those steep zig-zags that we had merrily cantered down just days ago now sapped us remorselessly. On the upside, though, frequent rest stops gave more opportunity to admire our surroundings and on one memorable occasion we were fortunate enough to see a magnificent Peruvian Condor in flight.

Slowly and surely we ticked off the kilometers and -after an age- the last climb levelled out. Choquequirao was now far behind us, invisible behind a mountain, and we were back on the long winding trail to Cachora. Sensing the proximity of the home straight rewarded us with a sudden burst of speed, which we maintained right up until reaching the farmland outlying the village; here, Sharon's legs finally admitted defeat. With much cajoling and encouragement from Ronal, we crawled the last few hundred yards into town and stopped. As our ever-conscientious chef produced one final excellent lunch for us, a wave of ecstasy and fulfillment at what we had achieved washed over us - it had been hard, but the trek to Choquequirao formed perhaps the defining moment of our year; we wouldn't have missed it for the world.

Sunset from Choququirao

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Shunning a further overnight trial-by-bus, we took a morning trip from Puno for the gradual descent into the bustling town of Cusco.

Arriving in the early afternoon on Monday you soon see just why Cusco is so bustling; the place is teeming with tourists eager to make the backpacker's pilgrimage along the famous Inca Trail to the even more famous Machu Picchu.

We were just happy to settle in to our digs here that first afternoon, stepping out in the evening for the customary beer and bite to eat.

Tuesday 05 September

Some time before embarking on our world-journey we'd dismissed the idea of trekking the Inca Trail; firstly, you need to book a place months in advance which would have dictated our itinerary somewhat, and secondly we'd heard from fellow travellers that the 'uniqueness' of the experience was becoming diminished by the sheer volumes of daily trekkers now following the trail.

But of course, you can't come to Cusco and not visit Machu Picchu; and we'd heard that the scenic train journey to the site was a worthwhile alternative to hiking there. Thus we made our way to the PeruRail office and forked over $105US each (ouch!) for the Vistadome (a glass-topped train affording better views) service leaving at 6am the following morning.

With Machu Picchu booked, we were free for the rest of the day to take in more sights of historic Cusco and to return to the Cross Keys - an English-style pub! - for a pint to console ourselves over our prematurely empty wallets...

Wednesday 06 September

We arrived at Cusco station early, supped a quick coffee and boarded the train. Perhaps the expense had been worthwhile; the Vistadome train was spacious,modern and comfortable, and - crucially - the large glass viewing windows were perfectly clean. The four-hour journey was terrific, an ever-changing panorama of mountain and jungle. And then we were stopping...but not at Machu Picchu. The last stop for the train is at a town called Agua Caliente. Here, we were dismayed to find that we now had to pay for entry to Machu Picchu, and also for a bus journey to get us there. Note to self: in future, research these things better.
A trip to the town's only ATM was required but -guess what?- a power failure had rendered it out of order. What now? With amazing presence of mind, Sharon found a money-changer and changed our emergency stash of US dollars.

After a perilous-looking, steep and zig-zagging bus ride up a mountainside we finally made it; Machu Picchu lay before and beneath us.

The steep and winding road to Machu Picchu

And was it worth the effort and expense? Well, see for yourself...

To Machu Picchu (via Cusco) remains copyright of the author andymoore, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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We spent the last two days of August making our way overland through Chile to the Peruvian border. Pleasant memories of quick, comfortable flights were soon replaced by the harsh reality of two consecutive overnight bus trips. To be fair, the first - from Calama to Arica was uneventful if somewhat cramped, but the second from Tacna to our first proper Peruvian stop at Puno was hellish.

Peruvian folk are small, and bus seating reflects this fact. Okay, so we're used to folding ourselves into cramped seats. More disconcerting was the fact that some of the bus windows were broken, or missing altogether. The devastating significance of this hit us in the early hours of Thursday morning; the outside temperature had plummeted to around absolute zero and we were woefully underdressed. The cold wasn't just uncomfortable; it was painful, and we looked on jealously at the sensible Peruvian travellers cocooned in warm clothes and blankets and sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the two shivering Gringo icicles sat next to them.

Friday 01 September

The bus had been climbing steadily during the night, and as the sun rose and we began to defrost, we caught our first glimpses of magnificent Lake Titicaca - at 3,860m above sea level, the world's highest navigable lake - and shortly after, the outskirts of the town of Puno.

If we were relieved to see Puno, we were positively elated to arrive at the Hotel Conde de Lemos ; despite our early arrival (before 7am) we were welcomed with breakfast and coffee while our room was prepared, and then - after one of the most horrendous night trips of the year - we collapsed into a deliciously comfortable and, most importantly, warm bed.

By the afternoon, we felt restored and emerged into the warm Puno sunshine to take a stroll around town and later find somewhere decent for dinner. A 'turistic' restaurant with an engaging menu caught our eye, but sadly the pricey meal didn't quite match our expectations.

Saturday 02 September

After a further morning's nose around Puno we took a half-day tour to see Sillustani, an ancient pre-Inca burial ground overlooking the shores of Lake Titicaca.

Tower-like tombs at Sillustani

In the stillness of the late afternoon sunshine the ancient stone structures - some desecrated by grave-robbers, others simply unfinished - provided an enchanting landscape.

Travelling back to Puno we stopped briefly at a traditional homestead to gain a taste of peaceful rural Peruvian life;

and as the afternoon drew to a close, the distant skies darkened and we were treated to the sight of a spectacular dry electrical storm, with bolts of forked lightning illuminating the western hills.

Sunday 03 September

And so, to the real reason we came to Puno; Lake Titicaca. Whisked by bus from the hotel to the harbour at 6am, we were on the lake in time to catch the first of the early morning sunshine glinting on the water.

Covering a surface area of 8,400 square kilometers, Lake Titicaca is huge and home to numerous small communities living on more than 40 man-made islands.

Landing at one such island - Amanecer - we were given a first-hand demonstration of island-creation. Constructed from mats of dense vegetation, walking on the island gave the same weird sensation we'd first experienced in Los Esteros del Ibera, Argentina.

A lesson in island-building on Lake Titicaca

Whilst here, we had the opportunity to sail in a traditional boat woven entirely from rushes - a far more placid way to enjoy the lake by contrast to the motorised launches of the tour operators...

After browsing the inevitable handicrafts on sale here (we bought a terrific tapestry!), it was time to leave the island and cruise onward into the greater body of Titicaca.

Some 45km into the lake from Puno lies the beautiful, hilly island of Taquile, where we landed to begin a hike to the highest village for a spot of typical Taquileno lunch. This turned out to be fish and chips!

Beautiful Taquile Island

After lunch we were treated to traditional dancing by the villagers, with Sharon being called upon to show us a few moves herself...

Get yer coat Luv, you've pulled!

At last it was time to bid farewell to our smiling hosts

and wend our way back down the hillside to the boat, and the gentle evening cruise back to Puno. With the sun setting on Lake Titicaca, we could look back on a great introduction to Peru and look forward to more adventures to come.

The Magnificent Two hit Peru remains copyright of the author andymoore, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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The flight from Salvador to Rio was terrific; comfy, great views from the plane's windows and above all, quick. Arriving in darkness in the downtown suburb of Botafago, we were pleased to see that after the basic digs of rural Brazil, our hostel here was equipped with a bar, pool table and internet access. We soon settled in.

By now the norm in our travels, we spent the first full day just exploring our surroundings; just being in Rio is pretty mindblowing, the city has a life of its own - it's hard to put the general "sunshinyness" of the place into words.

Despite the proximity of the beach, we instead headed to a nearby shopping mall (sad, yes); after much travel some of our garments had reached that make-or-break 'brittle' stage and so a search for replacements was in order.

And so we spent the day just mingling with the beautiful people, admiring the beach and Sugar Loaf Mountain from afar, taking in our surroundings and just generally hangin' out. And loving every minute of it.

Friday 25 August

Of course you can't just admire Sugar Loaf from afar; if you're in Rio you have to go up there. A half-hour stroll from our hostel brought us to the first of two cable-car stations, from where our steep but breathtaking ascent (actually, not breathtaking for Sharon; she had her eyes closed) began:

"Ooh - look at the tiny cars."

The cable-car to the first peak is only half the story; to reach the summit a second exhilarating ride is required...

...but of course the views at the top make the journey worthwhile.

It's not all scary cable-car rides and great views though; inevitably there are a number of cafes and gift shops, but other attractions include a pleasant walking trail and an example of a cable-car (and occupant) from the olden days.

Saturday 26 August

It's long been a dream of mine to visit Ipanema. Today my dream came true. Ipanema - the name conjures up visions of beautiful Brazilian people living a bohemian life against the backdrop of a stunning beach, the sun constantly shining, that song playing in the background...

I wasn't disappointed. Ipanema is simply lovely. Yes, the majority of the folk on the beach are beautiful; toned, bronzed, muscular blokes and tanned supermodel girls abound, but so do ordinary folk - and no-one seems to judge anyone else; everyone just fits in and gets along nicely.

Our hostel, surprisingly reasonable for such a reputedly jet-set location, was handily placed for the beach and the town. The bar (Garota da Ipanema) in which The Girl From Ipanema was written was just a ten-minute walk away.

With the sun beating down, a walk the length of the beach was in order followed by cool drinks in a hip(ish) bar and rounded off by a good meal in one of the many local restaurants.

Sunday 27 August

I was in two minds, but Sharon was adamant. We couldn't come to Brazil without witnessing an example of the beautiful game. The last time I'd witnessed live football was a game between Milwall and Sheffield Wednesday at the Old Den back in 1990, but I was sure that there'd be a world of difference between that match and a local Brazilian derby.

There's no doubt that the Maracana Stadium - one of the largest in the world - is impressive. Today's match was between Flamengo (at home) and Sao Paulo. Away supporters were definitely in the minority.

Gringos like us were seated away from the majority of hard-core supporters, but even so the vibe in the crowd was palpable and at times deafening; it was impossible not to get caught up in the excitement, hand-clapping and chanting. Excitement peaked when a few over-zealous Sao Paulo fans infiltrated the Flamengo stands - scuffles ensued, baton-wielding police appeared, and order (of sorts) was quickly restored.

Sadly though, the exhortations of the crowd could not elevate the standard of play and the mediocre match resulted in a disappointing 1-1 draw. We didn't mind; for us, the match was secondary to the experience.

Monday 28 August

Another of those must-see destinations in Rio is the enormous statue of Christ the Redeemer which sits atop the Corcavado (Hunchback) Mountain and overlooks the city. Our last day in Brazil, we signed up for a trip to this famous landmark but we got much more than we bargained for...

Our first stop seemed familiar - we were back at the Macarana Stadium! Still, we got to follow in some famous footsteps:

Next up was a 'stadium' of a different kind; the Sambadromo, a 1.5km long parade-ground which is home to the annual Samba School Parade - a competition between Rio's top Samba schools to showcase the best carnaval costumes, floats and displays.

Oh, if only we had the chance to try on some of those outrageously flamboyant carnaval costumes... OK, you're ahead of me:

Charles Hawtrey and Hattie Jaques in "Carry on Carnaval"

On a more sedate note, our next visit was to a rather unusual cathedral; a concrete edifice on the outside:

but with fabulous floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows inside

Finally we were on the long, winding drive up and up the Corcavado Mountain. Here we'd behold in all it's glory Christ the Redeemer, our last vision of Brazil, one of the most famous landmarks in the world, a lasting memory, a golden photo opportunity...

Oh bugger. Yup, after days of sunshine and clear blue skies, the fog descended. Well, it's the thought that counts.

Tuesday 29 August

And, once again, it was time to move on. Brazil had been great - fun and sunshine all the way. We'd managed to pack an awful lot into a brief time; no mean feat since we'd arrived in the country with no route planned and little idea as to what we wanted to do.

Now, owing to a quirk in our South American planning, we would fly back to Chile for a one-night pause before heading on to another new and exciting country - Peru

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An early start from Lencois bus station saw us on the 08:30 to Salvador. Salvador is a sprawling urban city with a 'historic' central area. Arriving around midday we jumped straight into a taxi (best not to hang around South American bus stations) and headed for the centre.
Historic Salvador consists of a central square surrounded by a labyrinthine jumble of narrow streets, some pedestrianised some not, but all teeming with tourists and - notably - lots of Tourist Police. The city has gained a reputation for petty crime against tourists, so the abundance of uniformed officers was a welcome sight. The taxi driver found navigating to our hostel (cunningly hidden in a traffic-inaccessible side street) decidedly tricky, so he deposited us in the adjoining road and vaguely gestured us toward our destination.
Once checked in it was time to join the other Gringos milling around, and take in some of historic Salvador's fine architecture.

As we wandered, we began to see why people describe this part of Salvador as "in your face" - heavily tourist-oriented, you are frequently accosted by beggars, money-changers and hawkers. Prostitutes are less than discreet, although they seem to be tolerated by the police.
Not wishing to venture too far today, we retreated to an excellent coffee shop (I'm a coffee addict, and good coffee shops had been in short supply lately) where we stopped to watch the world go by, and enjoyed a decent early evening meal.

Tuesday 22 August

Our route through Brazil had dictated the visit to Salvador; moving on from the Chapada Diamantina, Salvador was the next major city from which onward transport to Rio de Janeiro - our last stop in Brazil - could be arranged. Today, we faced buying the tickets for the thirty-hour bus journey to the capital; a prospect I was dreading. We made for the travel agent recommended by our hostel and were shown bus times and prices. On a whim, I asked for the price of an internal flight. Our man hastily tapped away at his internet connection and gave us the answer. We were astonished - a 90 minute flight cost just a few quid more than the unfeasibly long (and loathsome) bus trip. We handed over the cash without hesitation. Tomorrow we'd be flying down to Rio! No evil bus! Woo-hoo!
Immeasurably relieved, we spent the day exploring further, and riding Salvador's huge public elevator down to the city's lowest level to browse a large handicrafts market situated by the harbour.

Later, returning to the square and with camera in hand, we were accosted by four ladies in elaborate costumes; desciples of Brazil's Candomble religion. They happily posed for pictures with us,

then suggested we part with £20 for the privilege! They seemed happy enough with a fiver...

The general bustle, noise and attention from traders hungry for the tourist-dollar can get wearisome after a while, so this evening we were grateful to find an oasis of calm in the form of a second-floor restaurant near our hostel, from where we could observe the goings-on in the street below in hassle-free comfort.

Wednesday 23 August

A slight hitch this morning; we had to vacate our room at 11am, but weren't due at the airport until 4.30pm and the hostel wouldn't store our backpacks for us. Luckily, the place where we had breakfast would, and so we were free to spend our last few hours in Salvador browsing the varied shops and sights, revisiting last night's restaurant for lunch and - naturally - topping up the afternoon caffeine levels in the coffee shop. And then it was time to board our airport transfer, check in our luggage and be whisked into the night sky en route to the fun, sun and romance of Rio.

Historic Salvador

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Our latest overnight bus journey ended in the pretty town of Lencois early on a sunny Thursday afternoon. The cobbled streets and brightly painted rustic houses seemed a million miles away from the shiny, retro-space-age rat-race of Brasilia. The last rush in Lencois - for diamonds - ended 100 years ago, leaving behind a picturesque, friendly and relaxed town.

As soon as we stepped onto the platform of the tiny bus station a man approached us and asked where we were staying. Accustomed to hotel touts at bus stations, we gave him the name of the hostel we'd booked. Immediately, our man made a phone call and gestured us to wait. Minutes later, another man materialised and guided us through a maze of winding backstreets to our hostel; what service!

After being cooped-up in Brasilia and spending more time on a cramped overnight bus it was time to stretch our legs again and so we booked a hike to the Cachoeira da Fumaca (Smoke Falls) - Brazil's highest waterfall - for the following day.

Friday 18 August

Our guide for the day, Jorge, arrived at the hostel bright and early and herded us into a minibus for the two-or-so-hour journey to the Vale do Capao, our starting point for a 12 kilometre round-trip walk into the hills outside Lencois to the waterfall.

Once again, the day was hot and sunny and despit Jorge explaining that the walk could be taken 'at our own pace' we ended up trying to keep up with the energetic few leading the way. But, as ever, the effort was rewarded by the wonderful scenery:

The waterfall itself is named 'Smoke Falls' because the water is dispersed into a fine mist by the wind as it falls over 1000 feet to the ground. As the sun catches this fine water mist, a beautiful rainbow appears...

Hot, bothered, dry and dusty, Jorge led us back down into the valley and on to one final stop; a large pool beneath yet more waterfalls where it was easy to cool down...

Back in Lencois, we rounded the day off with 'cooling down' of a different kind in one of the alfresco bars dotted around the cobbled town square.

Saturday 19 August

Something (hopefully) a bit more relaxing today. A nearby wetland area of the Chapada Diamantina region called Marimbus is reputed to resemble the Pantanal; having enjoyed that place so much we just had to take a look...

Today's guide was Eric, and he drove us and another couple 18 kilometres along a bouncy red-dirt road to our starting point at the river village of Remanso. Here we boarded canoes and took a leisurely two-hour paddle along the mirror-calm Marimbus River, passing through sections of dense vegetation and negotiating the occasional fork in the river until we reached what appeared to be a small beach.

On Eric's advice, we removed our sandals and stepped onto the sand; in the midday sun it was scalding! We quickly hopped to the water's edge and followed it.

A short walk along a wooded track eventually brought us to our next destination, a series of pools interconnected by waterfalls where the Rio Roncador and the Rio Sao Jose meet.

The noise generated by these falls has earned the Rio Roncador the nickname 'Snoring River'.

In the heat, no-one wasted time in stripping down to swimmers and enjoying the cool waters, with Eric giving an impromptu (and dangerous looking) diving demonstration.

"Wheeeeeeeeeeee!"

The time came for our return, and Eric decided that he would show us an 'alternative' route back to the path that would eventually lead us back to the kayaks. Unfortunately, we didn't realise that Eric was making up this alternative route as he went along and thus we found ourselves clambering over high rocky promontories and slippery sections of river bed. Despite the grazed shins and battered feet, our enthusiasm peaked when Eric explained that we were in the midst of the diamond fields, and that tourists had been known to find decent-sized specimens. No such luck for us though...

Sunday 20 August

And so, a lazy Sunday. The idea of booking another tour crossed our minds, but the office in the hostel seemed shut for the day. As we sat in the communal area wondering how to spend our day, we started chatting to David, a fellow traveller who was (is?) motorbiking his way around the world. Being of a social nature, we cracked a few beers and began sharing anecdotes of our travels and travails. Before we knew it, a pile of cans had mounted before us, and the afternoon was wearing on for evening. Our last evening in Lencois; we´d had a great time here, and to finish off we returned to a restaurant that we´d discovered a couple of nights earlier which does a cracking Thai red curry. Tomorrow, we would move on to Salvador - a town that David and another traveller had warned us would be ¨in your face¨.

Lencois by night

Lencois and Chapada Diamantina remains copyright of the author andymoore, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Arriving back in Campo Grande, our first priorities were to have a hot (yay!) shower, and to take care of our whiffy Pantanal laundry. Brazil being the huge country that it is, we couldn't afford to hang around and so we booked two tickets for this evening's overnight bus (ugh!) to Brasilia.

By the time we'd completed our domestic duties and undertaken a bit of essential shopping, Sunday had passed and we found ourselves boarding the bus and heading into the night.

Monday 14 August

We'd found it inexplicably difficult to find any available budget accommodation in Brasilia, even though there must be loads. Thus we ended up in one of those anonymous, business-traveller-oriented chain-hotels on the outskirts of Brazil's dynamic capital city.

Arriving in the early afternoon, we spent the afternoon checking out the facilities offered by the hotel (well OK, the restaurant and bar), before turning in for an early night to recover from last night's bus journey.

Tuesday 15 August

This morning we jumped aboard the hotel's courtesy bus which took us to a large nearby shopping mall. With more long bus journeys ahead, we were pleased to discover a decent bookshop and more grateful still to find a Portuguese phrasebook; the hotel staff spoke English just about as well as we speak Portuguese...

Brasilia is famed for its and stylish 'retro-modern' architecture; the work of a single, gifted designer - Oscar Niemeyer. Travelling through the city we were able to admire some of his weird but definitely wonderful visions:

Wednesday 16 August

Seemingly no sooner than we had arrived in Brasilia, our brief stopover was ending. Another overnight bus beckoned, taking us this time to a small town called Lencois and soon we were speeding along Brasilia's impressive highways and taking our last looks at this unique city.

Brasilia's 'domino-like' Government Department buildings

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We stepped out of the bus station in Campo Grande and almost straight into the hostel-cum-tour agency with which we'd booked our Pantanal trip. Stopping only for a quick (but welcome) shower and lunch, we hastened aboard a minibus with a dozen other folk for the five hour trip to the camp ground.

Two hours into the journey we heard a loud grinding sound, and a shocked squeal from the back seat of the minibus; the trailer we'd been towing which contained everyone's backpacks and our evening meal had sheared off and careered onto the grass verge at the side of the road, catapulting personal belongings and food over a wide radius!
After a quick rescue effort (no hope for several pulverised water melons), the remaining food and bags were squeezed onto the bus, and the damaged trailer abandoned.

Spirits were high, though, as we reached the lush swamps of the Pantanal at sunset and glimpsed the first of the wildlife we would encounter over the next few days.

Wednesday 9 August

'Home' was a long dormitory containing about a dozen hammocks; as first-time hammockers we were suprised by how comfy they were and awoke refreshed and ready for an early morning's walk.

Our cosy dorm in the Pantanal

Getting to and from places around the camp meant bouncing along heavily rutted 'roads' in an open-backed lorry; great fun, but a bit sore on the backside.

Our first walk took us through shady woodland and our guide, Paulo, entertained us by demonstrating how to obtain drinking-water from vines, make natural mosquito-swatters and how to identify various plants. Sadly, with the Pantanal's dry season approaching its height, the walk was punctuated by the occasional discovery of a dead or dying cow, starved to immobility by the lack of edible vegetation.

Returning through the woods, Paulo cut some metre-long green leaves from a plant and gave each of us us one to take back to camp; after lunch, he skilfully stripped each leaf down to fibres, and wove them into necklaces adorned with a polished seed. We were impressed!

"It'll look like a necklace when I've finished, Luv. Honest."

With the hot Brazilian sun beating down on us, we were glad of a relaxing boat trip in the afternoon. Gliding downriver we met some old friends:

also a basking iguana,

and many kingfishers, herons, egrets and other birds.

Back at camp, everyone took a cold shower (seemingly the only kind in South America!) and spent the evening swapping stories around a roaring campfire, in the company of fireflies and assorted free-roaming animals.

Thursday 10 August

In fact, the pigs and goats around camp were a little too free; in the small hours they rooted around the unlit camp, making eerie snuffling and scratching noises... at least, we hoped it was the pigs and goats.

Disturbed sleep was soon forgotten though, when at breakfast we spotted wild toucans perching in the trees around camp. Another spot of horse-riding this morning (I'm becoming a pro by now) through open fields and woodland. We'd heard that a group of riders had happened upon a large anaconda the previous day, but we had no such luck, although we did see these incredible Hyacinth Macaws.

The ride was serene (thanks, in part, to the continual stopping of my eternally hungry horse) and provided further opportunity to take in the tranquil beauty of the Pantanal.

~~~~~~~~~~

How does the idea of wading waist deep into a piranha-filled swamp grab you? This afternoon's piranha-fishing was the most nervously anticipated activity of them all. Armed with a simple bamboo fishing rod and bits of raw chicken as bait, we tentatively crept into the cool, black, weed-entangled water.

"Look everyone, I've caught a nice hanging-basket."

Mud squished between our toes and unseen 'things' brushed past our legs. Repressing the urge to run away and/or faint, we cast our lines and suddenly - a tug, a flick, and WOW! live piranha dangled from our hooks! Catching the little devils turned out to be fairly easy - the swamp was teeming - and trepidation soon gave way to competition as we reeled in more and more of the ferocious fish. Between six of us we caught thirty; these were hastily 'spiked' on a sharp stick to be taken back to camp and prepared for tomorrow's lunch.

Piranha: nasty.

The catch of the day. Holding some Piranha fish.

Returning in the lorry to pick up the afternoon's horse-riding group, we had the opportunity to feed some 'spare' piranha to a few friendly locals...

"No, I'm not going to stroke his head."

Friday 11 August

Another walk this morning, this time through forest and swampland. "Probably best," suggested our guide, "to do this barefoot so you don't get your boots wet". Foolishly, I agreed and left my boots and socks in the lorry. Big mistake. The sensation was comparable to walking on hot, loose Lego bricks for three hours... but we did get to see yet more wildlife including a large owl. Still none of the expected anacondas, anteaters or armadillos though.

Emerging from woods into a clearing, it dawned on our guide that we were lost. Alarmingly, he decided that the best way back involved crossing a previously untraversed area of swamp.

A shallow patch of swamp. Lovely.

Wading in behind him, we became more alarmed when he spotted a large caiman slip under the water nearby. "Just follow me," he said, "It'll be okay". And thankfully it was, although we wasted no time in scrambling up the bank on the far side of the swamp, where to our surprise we emerged onto the road about two-hundred metres from where our lorry was parked.

Lunch today was delicious:

Piranha: tasty.

Given a choice of activity for this afternoon, we opted for another trip down the river in order to rest my battered feet. The sky being slightly overcast, we didn't see quite as much animal life as on the first trip but our afternoon was no less pleasureable than before.

Saturday 12 August

Our last day in the Pantanal. A place where the weather had been glorious, the scenery beautiful and the wildlife unforgettable. A place that we never even knew existed until arriving in Brazil less than a week ago.

Time, then, for one last walk. Setting off from the place we had picked up the horses for riding, we walked through open fields and small wooded copses. Alas, a hoped-for anaconda sighting was not to be (although we had encountered a dead snake, and a small snake which fell out of a tree and quickly slithered away). In fact it didn't seem as though we were going to see much at all until, deep in a shaded wood, our guide held up his hand for silence and pointed us toward...

...this cute armadillo. Normally, these animals are incredibly shy and hard to spot out of their burrows so we felt pretty privileged to see this one.

At two o'clock we were on the lorry which would take us to the edge of the Pantanal to meet our minibus back to Campo Grande, and once again this was a place we were sorry to be leaving. By dusk, we were back on the main highway, the wildlife far behind us. Or so we thought; in the fading light a large grey anteater calmly trotted from one side of the busy carriageway to the other, seemingly oblivious to the traffic around him.

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Another day, another country. Hmm, sounds familiar. A short taxi ride from Puerto Iguazu in Argentina took us over the border to Foz de Iguacu (note the spelling change between Spanish and Portuguese) in Brazil. Some confusion this morning - the taxi driver assumed we were on a day-trip into Brazil and so breezed past Immigration Control; we put him right, he turned around and we duly had our passports stamped.

Unusually for us, we arrived in Brazil completely unprepared and with no travel guide to assist us. We had a vague idea that we wanted to visit Ipanema, but beyond that we were clueless. Some people would argue that this is the best way to travel...

Fortune smiled on us; when we arrived at the Hostel Bambu a 'Rough Guide to Brazil' stared down at us from the bookshelf. Five quid (British Pounds) later and it was in our sticky paws. A quick peruse led us to the conclusion that the next place we'd like to visit was the Pantanal: a vast wetland area roughly the size of France.

Time limits and finances had ruled out our initial idea of an Amazon cruise, but by many accounts the Pantanal offers better opportunities for spotting a huge diversity of wildlife including anacondas, anteaters, the ocasional jaguar, macaws, caiman, otters and so on and on.

How convenient then, that our host at Hostel Bambu once worked as a guide in the Pantanal and could sort out a decent four-day excursion for us!
The deal done, and with little else to do on a quiet Sunday afternoon, we relaxed at the hostel and encountered our first ferocious Brazilian animal:

Monday 7 August

It's possible to visit the Iguazu/Iguacu Falls from the Brazilian side of the border, but having been twice we declined our host's suggestion that we go again today, opting instead for a visit to Foz's Parque de Aves (bird park); home to around 900 birds from 150 different species, some of which are severley endangered.

We'd seen from afar wild toucans in the Iguazu Falls Park, but here the toucans are positively tame and extremely inquisitive...

Maintaining the South American tradition, we were due on an overnight bus to Campo Grande tonight, so returning from the bird park we thought it best to eat a big lunch. The Rough Guide recommended a 'churrascaria' - a restaurant at which the waiter repeatedly fills your plate with large chunks of different barbecued meats on skewers until you beg for mercy. Absolutely fantastic.

We'd expected Argentina to be a hard (if not impossible) act to follow, but on the basis of the first couple of days in Brazil things were shaping up nicely.

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Another one of those much-loved bus journeys brought us to (sadly) our final destination in Argentina - Puerto Iguazu, home of the magnificent Iguazu Falls.

High in the northeast of Argentina, Puerto Iguazu lies near the borders of Paraguay and, next on our list of countries, Brazil.

Arriving at the bus terminal around midday we hopped in a taxi for the short ride out of town to our chosen accommodation, the Hostel-Inn Iguazu. This place is highly rated by guidebooks and travellers alike, and as we drew up we could see why; this place is more like a luxury hotel than a backpacker's hostel.

Once checked in, we wasted no time in arranging a trip to the Falls via the in-house travel desk, for the following morning. Then it was time to relax by the pool (Yay! A hostel with a full-size swimming pool!) with a few beers, write some postcards and just chill out for the rest of the day.

Wednesday 2 August

A forty minute trip by minibus brought us to the entrance of Iguazu Falls Park, and at just after 9am tour buses were as yet scarce. Inside the park, a network of walking trails leads off to waterfalls of varying sizes, but to get to the big boys you need to hop on a train. We'd been advised to visit the most spectacular fall, the Garganta del Diablo ('Devil's Throat') early before the majority of the crowds appeared. We jumped aboard the -quickly full- first train, then spedd off after the brief ride onto the series of metal catwalks which lead to the falls proper.

Despite the day being overcast, our anticipation was aroused by the distant roar of water and hastening to the end of the catwalk we were met by the Devil's Throat in all it's glory.

Well, not quite all - we later learned that Iguazu was suffering its worst drought in nine years and that the falls were far from at their most impressive. Could have fooled us...

We spent a long day investigating as many of the falls in the park as time would allow, but due to the grey weather and the vast numbers of tourists we very quickly decided to return in a couple of days' time for a second look.

Thursday 3 and Friday 4 August

Time for a quick look around Puerto Iguazu itself. As you might expect the town's main emphasis is on tourism, but it's charming enough and not as 'in-your-face' as some of the places we've been. I was particularly taken with a hairdressing salon here called 'Fanny Coiffure' - the jokes just write themselves...

We couldn't have chosen a better rest-stop for our final days in Argentina; after almost a month of terrific adventures and not-so-terrific bus journeys, the creature-comforts of the Hostel Inn coupled with the hot sunny weather and beautiful surroundings gave us a real 'holiday' feeling and we happily whiled away the rest of Thurday and Friday just unwinding and enjoying the view. Oh, and the Hostel Inn's fabulous barbecues... always thinking with my stomach, me.

Sharon chillin'

Saturday 5 August

To Iguazu Falls again. This time, the sun smiled down on us making the Falls seem, if possible, even more spectacular than before. Although the Falls are the main focus for visitors, the park is also home to diverse wildlife such as toucans, vultures and the mischievious but endearing Coatie (pronounced Co-ar-tee)

Naughty Coatie

Exploring the waterfalls that we'd missed on Wednesday, the drought was more evident; some of the smaller falls were little more than trickles. Nonetheless, this did not diminish our awe of the sheer beauty and majesty of our surroundings - drought or no drought, Iguazu Falls is a place not to be missed.

And so our Argentina experience drew to an end, and we felt a little sadness to be leaving so soon; so many positive aspects - the friendliness of the people, the food, the places, the weather - had contributed to our total enjoyment of the country. We're already planning the return trip.

Puerto Iguazu and the Iguazu Falls remains copyright of the author andymoore, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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As I may have mentioned in the past, it's not all adventure and excitement in this round-the-world travelling lark. Inevitably, we will encounter times and places where sufficiently little of interest happened to enable the writing of an enthralling blog entry (difficult to believe, I know).

Posadas was one such place. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure that Posadas is a fabulous place to spend time in; it's just that we were only passing through and didn't get the chance to make the most of the place. Matters weren't helped by our choice of lodging; a four-bed wooden dorm in a campsite (the Aventura) right on the outskirts of town.

A long journey from Mercedes, with a change of bus at Corrientes meant that we didn't arrive until 6pm. Thankfully, although out-of-season, the campsite offered all the amenities we required for the night including a very nice restaurant which overlooked the Rio Parana and gave views to the distant city of Encarnacion in Paraguay.

Monday 31 July

Did I mention my dislike of long bus journeys? One of the best ways to overcome the tedium and discomfort of these unavoidable journeys is to bury your nose in a good book. The bad news is that English-language bookshops in South America seem to be rarer than hen's teeth.

Our trusty guidebook (published 2003) suggested that such a bookshop ('Liverpool Libros'!) existed in downtown Posadas, so rather than spend the day mooching around the campsite, we took a two-hour mooch into town instead.

Such was our desparation for decent reading material that we spent the best part of three hours searching for Liverpool Libros, at one point asking the Tourist Information Centre for help. Finally, on the point of giving up, we found the address given in our guidebook. To spare potential embarrassment for anyone else looking for Liverpool Libros, you should know that it's now a lingerie shop...!

Tired and hungry, we headed for lunch to a steak (what else) restaurant on the main square. Typically for Argentina, the meal was fabulous even at lunchtime (although it was 3pm when we left). The highlight though was an innocuous sounding dessert called a 'Copa Don Pedro' ('Cup of Don Pedro). This turned out to be a dessert dish filled with whisky into which a tiny amount of vanilla ice-cream had been dissolved, and sprinkled with a few chopped nuts. Brilliant! The alcoholic's dessert!

As July drew to a close we neared the end of our time in Argentina, but of course the reason we had been heading North all this time was to leave on a spectacular note.

Posadas remains copyright of the author andymoore, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Our next stop, Mercedes, was really just an overnighter to give us chance to arrange an onward journey to the tiny town of Colonia Carlos Pellegrini from which access to los Esteros del Ibera - a marshland nature reserve covering 13,000 square kilometers - is gained.

Mercedes is another charming Argentinian town, and we spent a sunny Tuesday just exploring and unwinding.

But after a great time spent at las Aurora del Palmar we were keen to do yet more 'outdoorsy' stuff. With now customary Argentinian helpfulness and efficiency, our host in Mercedes - Graciela - arranged our three-day trip to Colonia Carlos Pellegrini (hereafeter CCP), including accommodation and activities and presented us the tickets without batting an eyelid.

One terrific steak supper and a bottle of wine later, we settled in for a good night's sleep.

Wednesday 26 July

The road to CCP is 120km of bumpy, potholed red dust only traversible by 4x4.

With the midday sun beating down as we travelled, we had the car windows open but hastily shut them every time another vehicle passed to avoid being engulfed in the ensuing thick red cloud. We shared the journey with a nice-enough young American couple who had met whilst travelling. They seemed preoccupied with furthering their acquaintance and so chat was minimal.

Arriving in CCP, we dropped the couple at their campsite on the edge of one of the many lagoons which comprise los Esteros, and continued on to our accommodation - a beautiful pousada owned by our driver and run by his family.

We spent the afternoon settling in and relaxing in the large garden, spotting some of the diverse range of birds for which Los Esteros are famous.

In the evening, our Spanish skills were again tested - none of our friendly hosts spoke English - but we enjoyed the first of many terrific (and huge) home-cooked meals before retiring to our comfortable room.

Thursday 27 July

At 8 o'clock this morning we were picked up by a local guide in his battered Citreon 2CV and driven across the rickety wooden bridge

which connects CCP with the rest of Argentina, to the Visitor's Centre.

From here we began a two-and-a-half hour walk through an adjacent patch of forest, spotting monkeys high up in the dense treetops and catching our first brief glimpse of a Capybara, the world's largest rodent. We thought ourselves really lucky to have spied this creature, assuming it to be rare and shy...

Several more spottings of birds such as the turkey-like Southern Screamer, various butterflies, plants and flowers and suddenly it was lunchtime.

As mentioned, the Esteros are comprised of a number of lagoons and the best way to explore them in detail is by boat; this afternoon was our chance.

Our particular lagoon was dotted with largeish green islands,and drawing close to them we had the inescapable feeling of being watched...

Alligator-like Caiman lurked on every shore, occasionaly slipping into the water to eyeball us more closely.

We landed on a (thankfully) Caiman-free island. The islands are naturally-occurring and are composed of densely-matted vegetation. Walking on them is a bizarre experience; a bit like walking on foam rubber - if you jump up and down you can feel the island vibrate!

Here, our notion that Capybara are shy was completely dispelled - the little devils are absolutely everywhere! A family of three happily munched the nearby vegetation, seemingly oblivious to us even when we virtually stood on top of them.

Less forthcoming were the graceful Marsh Deer living on the islands, which fled at the first sighting of a camera.

As the light began to fade and afternoon drifted toward evening, so we drifted back to our pousada to share a bottle of wine and enjoy tonight's full scale belt-busting culinary onslaught.

Friday 28 July

Another early start today as we were met by Andrea, a local riding instructor, who quickly allocated us a horse each and led us out for my third horse-riding session in a month.

The morning was hot, but the ride was a sedate affair taking us through the village of CCP and out into the surrounding fields to observe a few of the many species of birds found hereabouts.

In the afternoon, we decided to revisit yesterday's walk from the Visitor Centre in the hope that with only the two of us rather than a group we might see more wildlife. Alas the day was too hot and most of the wildlife, excepting some butterflies and the now inevitable Capybara, sensibly remained out of sight in the shade.

After one final sumptuous meal, we bid our hosts goodnight and turned in early on our last evening, since the return bus to Mercedes was picking us up at the ungodly hour of 4am the following morning.

Saturday 29 July

Bleary-eyed, we staggered onto the minibus in pitch darkness. Sadly, sleep was impossible not only because of the continual bumping of the minibus over the potholed road but also because of the incessant rambling of some bloke behind us.

Mercifully, some time after dawn broke we reached Mercedes and flopped into our hostel, not regaining consciousness until after midday.

We spent the rest of the day planning the next leg of our journey northwards, booking a bus trip to Pousadas for the following morning.

Colonia Carlos Pellegrini (via Mercedes) remains copyright of the author andymoore, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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A short bus ride away from Colon, we arrived for a couple of days' stay at La Aurora del Palmar, a private wildlife reserve just across the road from the Parque Nacional el Palmar.

La Aurora del Palmar is home to the largest remaining area of Yatay palm trees outside the national park, and provides a natural habitat for a diverse range of flora and fauna.

During July, the state of Buenos Aires has a two-week holiday when a large proportion of the five million denizens of the city disperse themselves over the rest of Argentina. Thus, the reserve was packed with holidaymakers and for our first night we had to take the only available accommodation; an enormous chalet-style affair with two floors, five beds(!) and an en-suite bathroom - luxury!

A number of activities are included in the price of a stay here, and so on Sunday afternoon we set off for a relaxing canoe trip up the El Palmar Creek. We shared the trip with a bunch of friendly Argentinians, but conversation was limited due to our respective lack of language skills. The bandying of phrases such as "Margaret Thatcher - stupida" and "Maradonna - Hand of God" broke the ice though, raising laughs all round.

Monday 24 July

This morning we moved into accommodation more befitting of our budget; a train carriage cunningly converted into an en-suite double bedroom! This took us back to our time in the "Santos Express", another converted train on the beach in Mossel Bay, South Africa.

Our first activity of the day gave me my second taste of horse riding this year, as we took a leisurely two-hour ride through sunlit orange groves, across a river and into part of the palm forest.

Whilst riding, we struck up a conversation with an American schoolgirl called Rebecca who was on holiday with her Argentinian mum. Her dad is a lecturer on films and so we talked endlessly about our favourite films, directors, what made us laugh and so on all the way back to the camp. Shortly afterwards, Rebecca's mum invited us to a barbecue lunch with the family as her daughter had so enjoyed our company!

We parted comapany at 2 o'clock to take a jeep safari into the heart of the palm forest. Here our guides explained that because of the pressures from cattle grazing and commercial forestry, the palms are struggling to thrive in new habitats, hence the need for privately-owned reserves such as the Aurora del Palmar which take the proceeds from ecotourism and use them for conservation initiatives.

La Aurora del Palmar remains copyright of the author andymoore, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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As if to reinforce my dislike of overnight buses, about an hour after leaving Cordoba last night the bus came to a stop next to a police truck with its lights flashing. Uniformed cops began pulling bullet-proof vests from the back seats of the truck and we began to worry. In fact, they were clearing space in the truck to accommodate a passenger on the bus who had seemingly suffered a heart-attack and needed rushing to hospital. By the time the bus crew and police had completed an hour's worth of form-filling at the hospital, the patient - now upright in a wheelchair - was looking decidedly better.

After two big cities, the small, pretty town of Colon (pronounced co-lon, before you get any ideas for smutty puns) made a nice change, and our host Marcela at the Hostel Sophie could not have been more helpful; not only in giving us invaluable travel advice but also booking our onward journey from Colon and actually walking to the bus station to pick up the tickets for us!

Colon Harbour

With a warm sunny afternoon at our disposal, Marcela directed us to a local tour company with a perfect-English-speaking (and delightfully nutty) tour guide called Charlie Adamson. Charlie, a third-generation Argentinian of Scottish descent took us on a terrific boat trip along the Rio Uraguay,

The sunlit Rio Uruguay

stopping at islands to allow us to explore the sand dunes

and to look for semi-precious Jaspers and Agates. I was particularly pleased to find a sizeable chunk of fossilized wood, estimated by Charlie to be 65 million years old.

With his expansive knowledge and infectious sense of humour, Charlie made the perfect day for us -

Is that a beard or have you been glue-sniffing on the carpet again?

and we were even more delighted when, once back on dry land, he invited us to dinner! We soon learned that this kind of unthinking hospitality is commonplace in Argentina.

That evening, Charlie cooked us the most unbelievably succulent beef (what else?), kept our kidneys afloat with good Argentinian red wine and regaled us with jokes and anecdotes. We rounded the night off by watching the Terry Gilliam film 'Brazil' (Charlie's personal favourite) with the sound turned up around 3000 decibels. Despite this Sharon still fell asleep, and so we left Charlie to it with thanks for a wonderful evening.

Saturday 22 July

Up bright and early for another sunny day, we took a long an enjoyable stroll along the 'beach' which forms the bank of the Rio Uraguay on the Colon side.

Saturday is the day that traditional Argentinian gauchos come into town, and we saw no shortage of these smartly dressed cowboys as we made our way back to the hostel after a pleasant evening out.

Although having spent only two days in Colon the place, the weather, and the people we met all contributed to its inclusion on our 'places we were sorry to leave' list.

Time, though, to continue our journey north.

Colon remains copyright of the author andymoore, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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I'm no fan of night buses, which is a pity because in South America they're your only realistic option for travelling the huge distances between the places you want to visit, unless you're prepared to fork out for internal flights.

Having covered the 700k from Buenos Aires overnight, we arrived at our accommodation in Cordoba at precisely 9am, completely shattered, and fell into bed just as the rest of Argentina was settling into another working day.

Surfacing in the early afternoon, we emerged to find ourselves in the centre of Argentina's second biggest city. The pedestrianised city streets were surprisingly crowded for a weekday and so we kept our initial exploratory sortie brief before diving into a typically western-looking coffee house for a few shots of wake-up juice.

After the overcast weather of BA, we were happy to see undiluted sunshine again and spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing around San Martin square and taking in the ornate statues, fountains and architecture.

Jesuit Cathedral, Plaza San Martin, Cordoba

Later we found a decent looking restaurant for dinner, but were surprised to be the only customers at 8pm. An hour later people began to file in, and by 9.30 prospective diners were being turned away - we came to realise that Argentinians dine late, with a meal starting any time between 9 and midnight being normal practice.

Tuesday 18 July

Our intention was for Cordoba to serve as a base whilst we went out walking in the nearby Sierras Chicas mountains. Straightforward enough, we thought, as we headed to the Tourist Info centre. Not so. Information on walks in the area was scant, and the only organised walks available didn't fit in with our schedule. A lengthy walk through the hot city to a hostel that can usually organise hiking trips also failed to come up with the goods, and it gradually dawned on us that our detour to the middle of Argentina had probably been unnecessary.

Wednesday 19 July

Frustrated by the tantalisingly close mountains and yet seemingly unable to reach them under our own steam, we resigned ourelves to the fact that the walking would have to wait for another day. Still, the weather remained sunny and so we decided to make the most of things by exploring the town further, catching up on all those important little tasks (OK, laundry) and generally chilling out.

Walking around the square again, there seemed to be a couple of political demonstrations going on; nothing particularly major, so we just assumed they were local affairs.

Later that night though, we heard fireworks and people chanting and singing in the streets. Was something of importance happening in Cordoba?

Thursday 20 July

Time to move on again, with another dreaded overnight bus to catch. Cordoba had been perfectly pleasant, offering the same sort of buzz that Buenos Aires has, but we couldn't help feeling slightly jaded by our failure to get out and enjoy the surrounding landscape. Knowing that we would be unable to fit in an evening meal before the bus, we consoled ourselves with an outrageously good lunch at a restaurant called AlCorta; sometimes you just have to do these things.

Today, the political activity seemed to reach fever pitch, with the roads around the city centre teeming with hordes of marching demonstrators, fireworks being let off every few minutes and armed police becoming increasingly conspicuous.

Still oblivious to the cause of this stirring of political emotions, we left behind Cordoba for adventures new. Just as Cuban leader Fidel Castro arrived to pay the city an historic visit...

Cordoba remains copyright of the author andymoore, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Our expectations of South America were not running quite as high as we'd hoped when we touched down in Buenos Aires, but what a difference a country makes! A friendly taxi driver whizzed us from the airport to our comfy (but reasonably priced) hotel in the heart of the city, and straight away we were struck by the almost palpable upbeat vibrancy of the place.

Despite its huge size, Buenos Aires feels remarkably safe - welcoming even - for travellers to wander around, even at night.

We'd decided upon a hotel for our first two nights as we'd missed little luxuries such as electricity, hot water and sleep. No such worries here though... Zzzzzzzz.

Argentina is rightly famed for the quality of its beef, and its true that you can't walk very far in Buenos Aires without coming across a steak house. Its not just beef though; here you can choose just about any cut of just about any meat you care to name and watch as it is cooked to perfection for you on a large open charcoal grill.

'Animal Hospital' suffers when Rolf's not around

Meals are generally very good value, but definitely not for vegetarians or the faint-hearted!

By Friday, we were suitably restored from our recent travels and moved from the hotel to a nearby hostel. No less comfortable, but a bit more basic and certainly easier on the wallet.

With only four days at our disposal here, we felt we really didn't do Buenos Aires the justice it clearly deserves, but we thoroughly enjoyed the time we had just strolling around the city centre and harbour, browsing the seemingly endless shops, admiring the architecture and just generally filling ourselves with the ambience of the place.

When Sunday evening arrived and it was time to take another overnight bus (groan) to our next destination - Cordoba - we felt genuinely sorry to be leaving. We hadn't felt this way about a place for some time now, but -happily- it was a feeling that would become common throughout our Argentinian adventure.

Now, this entry marks the halfway mark in our round-the-world adventure and, following a flood of two emails in praise of my electronic scribblings, I've decided to succumb to my ego and allow you good folks to add comments. Let me know what you think of the blog; praise, offers of employment and/or undying admiration are welcome, abuse is not (that means YOU, Grayzza).

Until the next exciting(?!) episode, take care.

Andy and Sharon
X

Buenos Aires, Argentina remains copyright of the author andymoore, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Today we met a new set of travelling companions as we rejoined our tour of Chile for the four days' journey back to Santiago. With only seven of us in total, we had a bit more breathing space on the minibus.

Leaving behind San Pedro for the desert once more, we eventually arrived at a well preserved but otherwise deserted mining town; a relic of Chile's once-profitable nitrate mining industry.

The town's sole inhabitant now shows tourists around the place, making his living from donations.

The beautiful theatre:-

now serves as a museum, charting the town's history from its mining days to a darker period during which it was used as a detainment camp for political prisoners; this simple tree carving is a poignant reminder:

With a lot of ground to cover in four days, the rest of Friday was devoted to making our destination at the Pan de Azucar National Park. After a teriffic barbecue, we pitched tents on the beach and fell asleep to the sound waves crashing against the shore.

Saturday 8 July

Another solid day of travelling. Leaving Pan de Azucar late morning we piled into the minibus and headed for the town of Vicuna in the Elqui Valley. Stopping only for food and loo breaks, we arrived in Vicuna at around 7pm.

Because of the particular clarity of the night sky around Vicuna, the area is dotted with observatories, and after dropping our bags at tonight's hostel we headed up to the Mamalluca observatory which sits atop a nearby hill.

A highly enthusiastic Chilean amateur astronomer (he has a deal with the observatory; he guides tour parties, they give him free use of the equipment!) gave us a fascinating and educational talk about the night sky before letting us look - and take pictures - for ourselves.

With very little light pollution from the nearby town, a clear night sky and an almost full moon, the results were awesome:

Having witnessed Alpha Centauri (only visible from the Southern Hemisphere) and seen the Milky Way up close, we left with a new found enthusiasm for star-spotting and fell into bed.

Sunday 9 July

An hour or so's journey from Vicuna, we arrived at the charming old village of Pisco Elqui.

The Elqui Valley receives around 330 days' sunshine every year, perfect conditions for growing the sweet grapes used in the distillation of the local brandy - Pisco. In fact, in 1936 the village changed its name from 'La Union' to 'Pisco' in order to trademark the name and protect the local tipple.

Naturally, a visit to the distillery was on the cards, but first we were up for a spot of horse riding. I've ridden a donkey before, but Sharon claims this doesn't count; but hey - how hard can it be?

What a great experience! We rode up into the mountains around the village along narrow rocky paths; luckily the horses were very sure-footed, and we were treated to amazing views of the vineyards and citrus orchards along the valley.

Returning from a relaxing few hours on horseback, it was time for a drink. We made for the tiny Tres Erres (Three R's) Pisco distillery for a brief tour. The guide only spoke Spanish, but luckily we had a willing translator on hand.

Making Pisco the old-fashioned way

After tasting the different Piscos (strong and very strong) in the bar, we enjoyed the sunset before returning to Vicuna for a group evening meal.

Monday 10 July

The final leg, and a long day's journey back to Santiago. We broke around lunchtime to spend a couple of hours at the Fray Jorge National Park; a bit of an oddity - it's like a small hilltop rainforest in the middle of the desert. The moisture comes from coastal fogs which are 'trapped' inland and support plants that would not otherwise flourish in this climate.

Again, we were captivated by the views.

At last, the city lights of Santiago beckoned and our whistlestop tour of Chile was over. We would spend one more day in Santiago (to explore the unmissable Pre-Columbian Museum) before flying on to our next country - Argentina.

San Pedro de Atacama back to Santiago remains copyright of the author andymoore, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Safely back from Bolivia and not due to rejoin our small tour of Chile for a couple of days, we decided to relax and explore the town of San Pedro a bit more.

Just off the main square is a museum founded by a Belgian priest, Padre Gustavo le Paige:

which houses a collection of thousands of Atacaman artefacts, including mummified human remains and skulls, covering an 11,000 year period of Chilean history.

The museum is surprisingly modern, well lit and excellently laid out and we spent a fascinating afternoon learning about early Atacaman culture. And taking spooky photos of the exhibits.

"Are you sure this is right, Dr Atkins?"

Later, we found a pleasant bar across the square just perfect for sitting and people-watching in the sunshine. Which we did, right up until the point when a bird sitting in the eaves above chose my head for target practice...that's the second time this year!

Thursday 6 July was spent in much the same way, giving us our last photo opportunities of charming San Pedro

and to catch up on emailing, blogging, packing and the like. Another warm sunny afternoon, and so we returned to the bar in the square (sensibly sitting in the courtyard this time; no birds above), where we were happy to be entertained in traditional Chilean style.

Taking it easy in San Pedro remains copyright of the author andymoore, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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...1 am Monday morning. I was woken by the mixed sounds of rapid salt-crunching footsteps outside our room, urgent whispers, and loud groans - some of which were emanating from Sharon. Without warning she dashed from the room. And then the devastating stomach cramps hit me.

It emerged that 14 out of the 15 in our group had succumbed to severe food poisoning. No-one slept that night. By dawn, the Salt Hotel's toilets resembled an action painting. I was lucky, suffering merely(?) from explosive diarrhea; others looked to be at death's door. The hotel staff were unsympathetic - "it happens often", they told us as they cheerily prepared a breakfast (fried eggs) that nobody ate.

In varying states of distress, and not daring even to cough, we reluctantly made our way to the jeeps for what should have been an exhilarating day's sightseeing on the way to our destination, Uyuni.

First on the agenda today was the immense, and - in the sunshine - spectacular Salar de Uyuni salt flat. We felt so ill following the jolts and rattles of the journey that we couldn't even exit the jeep to take photos.

By the time we reached the Isla de Pescador (Fisherman Island) a couple of hours later, we needed to force ourselves out to stretch our legs and get some fresh air. This cactus-covered islet rises high above the salt flat and provides incredible views, but the effort of climbing in our weakened state took the shine off the whole experience for us. At least there were much-needed loos here.

"Shall we dance?"

Unsurprisingly, we skipped lunch and continued onward to Uyuni, via a stop at another abandoned trainyard.

At last we arived in Uyuni. Here, our tour operator tried to blame the group's sickeness on everything but the previous evening's meal. Some heated "negotiation" encouraged them to reconsider the evidence, and everyone was offered $5 US in compensation.

For most of the group, Uyuni was the end of the line as many folk were heading on to other destinations from here. For Sharon, me, and a couple of girls from Edinburgh (Cheryl and Jennifer), a further four-hour journey back towards the Chilean border, and San Pedro, awaited.

This four-hour period travelling across anonymous desert in pitch-darkness was the longest of our lives, and on arrival at the tiny village of Villa Mar we gratefully collapsed into bed and slept.

Tuesday 4 July

It was still pitch-dark at 04:45 when our driver roused us to make the onward journey to the Chilean border. Despite the early hour, we all felt a good deal better than we did yesterday; well enough to appreciate the spectacle of the star-studded sky giving way to a Bolivian sunrise.

Thankfully, the long journey back to the Bolivian border was uneventful and we arrived mid-morning to a breakfast of bread rolls and coffee (unbelievably tasty in our desperately hungry state!)

Passports duly stamped, we were on our way back to the relative comforts of Chile and San Pedro. At the Chilean border we unexpectedly met our friend Cordula whom we had last seen in Santiago; we were never happier to see a friendly face!

Back in San Pedro, we booked into a comfortable double-room, took a good hot shower each and headed out to a good restaurant.

Bolivia - Part Two remains copyright of the author andymoore, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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A party of fifteen gathered outside the tour office in San Pedro at 07.45 on Saturday morning and the air buzzed with anticipation. Presently a minibus arrived and bore us to the Chilean exit point a short distance from town. Thirty minutes after that we arrived at the desert outpost which serves as the Bolivian entry point. Immigration completed, the group was divided into three parties with each taking a separate 4x4 jeep; easy to see why - proper roads are virtually non-existent in Bolivia.

This first day was dominated by lagoons; no bad thing as they are all beautiful. First up was Laguna Blanca (White Lagoon). After the warmth of San Pedro, and despite the brilliant sunshine, we were surprised to find that the shallow lagoon was frozen!

Stepping out of the jeep, harsh reality hit us - Bolivia is cold.

Our next stop was at the deeper (and therefore unfrozen) Laguna Verde (Green Lagoon) which gets its vivid colour from copper and magnesium deposits.

Already chilly from wandering around the lagoons, we were heartened by the sight of steam rising from the ground at our next destination; a collection of thermal pools.

The braver amongst us immersed themselves in a particularly inviting pool, but as they emerged into the cold air teeth soon began to chatter. Sharon dipped her toes; I kept my warm, dry clothes on.

Having travelled some considerable distance from the border, our final stop before reaching tonight's accommodation was the flamingo-dotted and strikingly red Laguna Colorado

Our digs tonight were in an unheated refuge, where we were pleased to learn that overnight temperatures could be expected to drop as low as -20 degrees! Despite sleeping fully clothed in a sleeping bag under a pile of blankets, we awoke with icicles on our noses and windows frosted on the inside.

Sunday 2 July

After defrosting over a breakfast of hot coffee and bread rolls we hit the 'road' again. Altitude sickness (we had steadily climbed to around 4,900 metres above sea level yesterday) and a ropey night's sleep in the cold slowly began to take their toll. We had a long journey ahead of us today, but we were excited by the fact that tonight we would be sleeping in a hotel constructed entirely from salt!

First stop, though, was at some curious rock formations in a place known as the 'Salvador Dali' Desert.

Bright sunshine once again masked the fact that once outside the jeep, the day was pretty cold. Heading on, we had to negotiate some rocky terrain before arriving in an area dominated by three more lakes for an early spot of lunch.

Here, we were lucky enough to encounter (and feed) an Andean Fox; apparently an endangered species.

As the afternoon progressed the going got tougher still as we surmounted a plateau across which the little-used Calama-Uyuni railway line crosses, disappearing toward the distant mountains.

Not withstanding a little difficulty with jeeps running out of fuel - apparently not uncommon on these tours - we eventually reached the Hotel du Sal (salt hotel) and, yup, it really is completely made of salt; walls, floors, beds, tables, chairs - all blocks of salt. Stealth here is impossible - the floors are satisfyingly crunchy to walk on.

After a pleasantly warm shower (thankfully, the bathrooms are not made of salt) we settled in for the evening.

And what a great evening; we were escorted to a large salt dining table and served a delicious meal of meat (possibly llama), quinoa rice, salad and veggies and a complimentary bottle of red wine. A band of local children entertained us with drums and pan pipes. We made pleasant conversation. The evening wore on and slowly everyone retired to their beds, tired but content. Until...

Bolivia - Part One remains copyright of the author andymoore, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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