The Joys of Getting Lost (29.09.08)

The views from the top of Campanario Hill.

On Monday we decided to have a reasonably relaxing day and do not much at all. After a lazy start, we got on public bus number 20 which winds its way around Lake Nahuel Huapi and jumped off at the base of Campanario Hill. From the bottom you can either take a chairlift up or walk for 30 minutes and save yourself some pesos. We decided to get some exercise.

The view from the top was breathtaking (unfortunately, the photos don’t do it justice as there was a slight haze in the air which mutes all the colours). From the lookout you can see the Perito Moreno and Nahuel Huapi lakes, El Trebol lagoon, San Pedro and Llao Llao peninsulas, as well as Victoria Island, not to mention numerous snow capped mountains.

We decided (actually it was me who must claim responsibility) to take a different path for our decent. It soon became apparent that this was not the official way and we were practically sliding down the hill. It became virtually impossible to go back up so when we spied a path in the distance we made our way through the forest to it. However, as we passed bamboo thickets, it became evident that this was also not the correct way down. The track seemed to be heading in the wrong direction yet we followed it anyway thinking it would get us to the main road. It didn’t. We ended up at a small lake and had no idea as to where we were. Jon wanted to follow the hill around (goodness knows how long that would take, we had no idea how wide it was) and I wanted to retrace our steps and try and scramble back up to the top. Jon won – he declined to go mountain climbing with me.

We marched along a horse trail. I spotted giant paw prints in the mud and thought ¨Oh great! We are going to be attacked and eaten by a puma and no one knows where we are.¨ There was no sight of any pumas (I am a bit disappointed about this, although the prospect of being someone’s lunch wasn’t exciting) and eventually we came to a fork in the path. I refused to go any further. Jon finally relented and followed me back the way we came. The amusing thing was (not funny at the time) that we ended up back at the fork. We then took the bamboo path up the hill but instead of scrambling through the trees up to the lookout we kept going across the hill until we found the chairlift. We then made our way down through the forest to the road. I think the workers at the bottom were a bit surprised to see two people a bit worse for wear (I had taken a tumble) pop out of the woods no where near the designated track. Our supposed half an hour trek down took us over two hours. The day had turned out to not be quite as relaxing as we had planned for.

Note: I would just like to point out for the record that my way was a lot quicker than Jon’s proposed route no matter how much he begs to differ.

Bariloche - the Lakes District (28.09.08)

The bus trip across to Bariloche passed without any incidents. It was rather uncomfortable as we went semi-cama. Not only did this mean the seats were smaller and on and awkward angle (I spent the night doing squats - sliding down my seat, pushing myself up again, sliding down etc) but it also meant breakfast consisted of one biscuit. If you were asleep at the time they served the biscuit (or rather they threw it at you), they refused to give you one later - probably because the bus driver and his companion ate them all.

Bariloche is in the Patagonian Mountains near Chile. The town is set on the north-eastern shore of Lake Nahuel Huapi which is ringed by lofty mountain peaks. It really is very picturesque (that is when it isn’t cloudy and you can see everything) and must be extremely busy in ski season (we have just missed it although some of the runs are still open). Every second building is a hotel or hostel. There are also an over abundant supply of chocolate shops which I am slowly working my way through – the mint chocolate and milk chocolate logs (like flakes) are particularly good. However, the hot chocolate is rather disappointing.

On arrival, we checked into our hostel dorm (private rooms are ridiculously expensive) and then wandered around town. It appears that there must be some school snow package special as there are a zillion youths (look more like unkempt louts with rats tails) wandering the streets in matching ski jackets yelling chants at the tops of their lungs and working their way around the chocolate circuit as well.

The two Israeli girls who were in our room had disgusting bathroom habits. They obviously didn’t know how to work a shower curtain and one sounded like she was hocking up a fur ball in the morning – gross. Oh the joys of sharing accommodation!

Whale Spotting (27.09.08)

Mum and her little albino baby.

Today we were going to have a close encounter of the whale kind and hopefully we were going to get the perfect whale tail shot.

The beginning of our trip was rather ominous – the bus kept stalling. Eventually, about half an hour out of town it broke down all together. Thankfully, this occurred right next to a bay where female whales come to give birth. About five metres off shore (not exaggerating for once) a massive southern right whale was swimming along the coast line. I thought it had an ugly growth on its head but it turns out it was just its little (little by whale standards) albino (yep it was white) baby having swimming lessons next to it. Because babies can’t stay underwater long we had a fantastic view of them both splashing about. It was incredible.

After a while a new bus came to collect us. We all piled in and took off to Reserva Faunistica Peninsula Valdes – a really flat, bleak and dry landscape of low shrubs. We headed for over an hour across this uninspiring countryside to Caleta Valdes. Along the way we saw from the distance a family of Mara (mum, dad and two babies) – Patagonian hares. I had to buy a postcard to get a better look at them. They appear to be a hare crossed with a donkey – well sort of if you use some imagination.

At Caleta Valdes (a bay) we walked down to the beach where a group of elephant seals (looked like enormous fat slugs) were lazing about on the sand. One would occasionally move a flipper, spraying sand onto their fat bodies. Because we were late, we had just missed one of them giving birth to a black pup. There was a trail of blood along the sand and a flock of seagulls vying for the placenta and birth fluids – disgusting. Apart from this, not much else was happening down there so I wasn’t too upset that we didn’t have very long to look at the seals. They were quite amusing when they tried to move. They would drag themselves for a couple of metres and then have to rest because they were so fat. Following this we had a quick peek at some more penguins and then drove back to Puerto Pirámide in time for the whales.

Our tour guide must have been practising to be a primary school teacher as she showed us flash cards of Patagonian animals she had drawn herself. I would rather have seen the real thing. According to her, the male American ostrich is the ideal husband (she wasn’t married) as he takes care of the kids and gets the food ready, allowing the female to go shopping. This was her attempt at a joke. A funnier story she told us was how a Japanese company tried to open a penguin harvesting factory down here. They wanted to turn the cute penguins into golf gloves, oil and quite possibly sushi! Thankfully, their petition was rejected.

Puerto Pirámide is the only town on the peninsula and it is the place the whale watching boats depart from. We donned life jackets and tarpaulins (makeshift raincoats) and climbed aboard our vessel – the ugliest and oldest boat there. A tractor dragged us out to sea and then we were off. I was slightly pessimistic when the captain said whale watching was a lesson in patience (I have none of that) and that we don’t go to the whales we let them come to us. What whale in its right mind would want to do that? I thought this was a pathetic excuse in case we didn’t see any.

The first whale we saw just floated there and did nothing (for all intents and purposes it may have been dead) so we moved on… and on… and on. It seemed we were sailing past every whale that was frolicking in the water and heading to Antarctica instead. I don’t know what was going on in our captain’s mind – not much I am guessing. He was hopeless. For an hour we kept chasing ghost whales. Jon asked where the whale was and the assistant replied beneath us. I did not take any comfort in knowing there was an invisible whale somewhere beneath our boat (no doubt it was deliberately never going to surface) whilst I could see tails and flippers waving at us in the distance to the left and right of us. It was like they were beckoning us to go over and see them but our captain had other plans.

Just as I had given up seeing anything of note and was cursing the captain under my breath, Jon spotted some whales playing in the distance port side and pointed them out. We about turned and headed over. I think the captain may have suspected the crew was ready for mutiny if he didn’t find us a whale. They were amazing and we got within metres of the two of them. They were huge – about 12-15 metres long and you could see all the details on them. I was a bit scared they would tip our boat over and I would be swallowed up like Jonah but if anyone deserved to be eaten it was our stupid captain. Jon and I have decided we could run a much better whale spotting business.

Once we were back on shore one and a half hours later, we headed back to Puerto Madryn. All in all, it had turned out to be a great day of whale watching.

Patagonian Penguin Parade (26.09.08)

Checking eachother out.

I think this penguin has seen a bit of recent action.

Commersons dolphins.

Every year from September to April over half a million Magellanic penguins make their way from Brazil to Punta Tombo for a bit of hanky panky. It is the largest penguin colony outside of Antarctica and it makes the Phillip Island version look like an ametuer production.

When we arrived there I was disappointed to see a lack of armadillos (once again, the Lying Planet deceived me saying there would be some). However, there was no shortage or male penguins. Many were lying right next to the path and even on the track. Some you had to step over and at first I thought they may be dead as they didn´t seem to respond to the hordes of tourists around them. But when I poked one with a stick it became apparent they like to sleep on their bellies in any spot they feel like. Those that weren´t sunbaking were crying out at the top of their voices (like a horses whinny) trying to attract the females that were swimming to shore (they had just started arriving over the last few days). I don´t know how that awful noise carries any sex appeal but it seemed to work for some who were busy going for it metres away from a small crowd of humans and penguins who had gathered around to watch. Apparently these penguins are mates for life and meet up here with the same partner ever year for about six months until any babies produced can swim. How romantic. After this they swim back up to Rio – who can blame them, the east coast of Argentina is not exactly exotic. I´d leave as soon as possible.

After the penguin parade we headed over to Rawson to go dolphin spotting. The Commerson´s dolphins are black and white and look a bit like Orcas. They liked to tease us by diving out of the water on one side of the boat and then popping up on the other side. You were continually guessing where to point the camera and were running from side to side hoping to get the ¨money shot¨. I was relieved to see the boat didn´t tip when all 30 tourists in the rubber dinghy ran to one side for a photo.

On the way back up to Puerto Madryn we passed through Gaiman, a Welsh town in Patagonia. There is not much here but apparently Butch Cassidy found it good enough to hang out at for a few years. That is, until he decided to rob the local bank and was forced to flee. The one thing tourists seem to do is gorge themselves on Welsh tea – tea with a plate loaded with bread, jam and cakes. I didn´t know the Welsh were famous for this (nor did the girl from Wales we met). Nether-the-less, we shared one as there was nothing else to do in the town (we did wander the streets trying to find some other activity) and I can now say it was worth coming to Gaiman for... or at least making a very slight detour for.

On the Road Again (24.09.08 - 25.09.08)

Apart from saving money, I thought another good reason to catch the bus up north would be the opportunity to see the amazing landscape that is Patagonia.

The four hour drive to our bus changeover point wasn´t too bad as you passed a few mountains on the way out of El Calafate. The bus terminal at Rio Gallegos was not a very awe inspiring but thankfully we only had a few hours to kill there. We almost got stuck in this place but luckily at 5.55pm we realised the 6.00pm us to Mendoza was the one we were supposed to be on. This was no thanks to the driver. Jon had asked him earlier if a different bus was going to take us to Puerto Madryn and he had replied ¨Si¨ (yes). Consequently we had been admiring the bus out of the window for over 20 minutes before we thought we had better check with someone else. Luckily we did. Maybe the driver thought it would be amusing to see us panicking at the last minute and running out of the terminal all flustered, half dragging, half carrying our enormous backpacks. (Our packs by the way are bigger then everyone elses we have encountered on our travels. I don´t know how people pack so lightly. I really don´t think I am overdoing it).

The amazing Patagonian landscape turned out to be not so breathtaking. For 20 hours the steppe looks surprisingly similar to the Nulabor – flat, boring and nothing as far as the eye can see. I watched tv. The driver seemed to have a thing for extremely violent and graphic D grade movies. Any kids watching on the second floor of the bus would have been traumatised. It must be a South American thing. The bus to Lima showed a teenage movie with a 'ménage à trois' scene and a girl hitting her grandmother over the head and locking her in the boot, not to mention drugging her numerous times.

We arrived in Puerto Madryn the following day around lunchtime. The trip went surprisingly quickly or so it seemed. In the afternoon we walked to the end of the pier (quite a hike as it extends about 500 metres into the ocean) and watched a whale playing near us. Unfortunately it did not pose for a good tail shot, nor jump out of the water and do a back flip. I was a bit disappointed about this.

El Chalten (22.09.08 - 23.09.08)

On Monday morning we caught the bus three and a half hours north west to a very small town called El Chaltén in the 'Los Glaciars National Park'. The town survives on tourism, summer being the peak season. Being there in Spring, El Chaltén was pretty dead which is good for those of us without a coffee and cake addiction – there was only two hostels/hotels open and one restaurant. El Chaltén and Los Glaciars National Park offer breath taking scenery, particularly that of the two big crags: 'Cerro Fitz Roy (3405) and Cerro Torre (3102), each surrounded by glaciers and semi frozen lakes.

The bus took us to the national park office where an enthusiastic park ranger emphatically urged us not to 'litter, smoke or defecate' in the national park.

Note: Argentina (as it strives to become a 1st world nation) is trying to arrest the notion that public defecation (PD) is a socialist right inspired by the countercultural Marxist Che Guevara. PD still remains a social norm (almost elevated to one of those twisted pagan/catholic rites) in Peru and Bolivia.

Having heard the 'ground-rules' we drove the remaining short distance to the hostel (incidently this was the only hostel we have ever visited to have 'Absolutely Forbade the use of Sleeping Bags' – we later learnt this was due to an epidemic of bed-bugs though the hotelier confusingly called them 'bed-bags' – 'an infestation of 'bed-bags'?'), checked in and repacked for the hike to Cerro Torre.

The walk to Cerro Torre was indicated to be a 6-hour return journey. As we passed several 'progress signs' we soon realized the average Argentinian must have run the track. Also slowing our progress was mud, more mud but frozen, and snow/ice on the track. We didn't see much in the way of wildlife although Karyn saw a flash of yellow in the trees. She has since convinced herself she saw a puma, although a German Shepard is more likely. We passed through amazing scenery and three-and-a-half hous later we climbed the last embankment over-looking the shores of Lago Torre, the frozen lake that lies at the base of Cerro Torre. It was breathtaking: snow capped peaks and the glacier both reflected on the waters of the lake. The river that drains from Cerro Torra can be crossed only via a cable strung up between two rocks. Two hard-core trekkers had tied themselves into harnesses with pulleys, winching themselves over the freezing river. Deciding against looting their belongings while they helplessly dangled above the river, we turned back for El Chaltèn, hoping to be back before sunset.

The next morning, having eventually found an open café and bakery for breakfast we set off for the second day of sightseeing in El Chaltén: trek to the mighty and frozen Cerro Fitz Roy. The weather was shitty in the morning and got worse as the day progressed. All day we couldn´t actually get a view of Fitz Roy through the clouds. Despite the horrid weather the scenery was beautiful and we got a glimpse of another glacier. We walked back in light rain, stopped to photograph some wood-peckers, and caught the evening bus back to El Calefaté.

Ice, Ice Baby (21.09.08)

On Sunday we hoped for better weather than we’d had on our glacial trek. We were told that the weather is unpredictable over here. Further more there is no ‘weather service’ (bureau of meteorology) offering a forecast or even a random weather prediction. However we were assured that:
1. Weather could change in 5 minutes.
2. The average annual rainfall in the Glacial National Park was 6 meters – i.e. it rains more often than not. With that dire weather news we were picked up again at 7am, but this time for a boat cruise of ‘Lago Argentino’ and several other glaciers.

The grey clouds overhead and thick fog looked ominous. We wondered if we were even going to be able to see the glaciers. Thankfully the clouds were low so we could see the tops of the mountains. The crummy weather even seemed to lend a mystical feel to the experience and although we didn’t see the icebergs sparkling in sunshine with clear blue skies overhead, they did look amazing.

The boat cruise aims to visit 3 glaciers: The Upsala Glacier, the Onelli Bay Glacier (convergence of 3 glaciers Onelly, Bolado and Agassiz) and the Spegazzini (not spaghetti) Glacier. We were told that due to some icebergs in Onelli Bay it was unlikely our boat could get close enough to see the Onelli Bay and Upsala Glaciers. I fantasized that with a little Aussie-inspired initiative, the captain (with my expert guidance of course) should be able to nudge the bergs out-of-the-way or perhaps sink them with a little TNT. Before generously offering my assistance I thought it prudent to examine the said icebergs myself. When we finally came on Onelli Bay and viewed the rascal bergs it occurred to me it would require several megatons of TNT to remove the fugitive icebergs. Stretching from one side of the bay to the other, and (according to the captain) extending most of the 18km to the face of the glacier, were back-to-back house sized icebergs. In wonder and disappointment we sailed from one end of the berg-block to the other until all 200 passengers were sadly convinced there was no way through.

Missing the three glaciers of Onelli Bay we sailed to our final destination, the Spegazzini Glacier. Spegazzini has a surface area of 66km2, is 25km long and has a width of 1.5km at its face. It’s the highest glacier in the national park with a face height of 80-125meters. Several large chunks of ice fell from Spegazzini while we were waiting and watching, the resulting waves causing several of the largest round iceburges near the boat to destabilize and start rolling in the water. They turned five or six times before finding their centre and returning to a state of rest. Every time there was an ‘ice-incident’ (even one as mundane and yet extraordinary as an iceberg turning) I would race 199 other eager tourists (every single one of us armed with our weapon of choice - a digital camera/camcorder) to the appropriate rail all vying for the best position to take our precious shots. The ship captain (who obviously understood this tourist mentality), continually turned the ship around, no doubt enjoying watching us having to continually readjust our position on the boat and scramble to yet another rail.

The glaciers and icebergs were all a sight to behold and well worth visiting despite the fact that we could only do half the tour.

Big Ice (20.09.08)

The Perito Moreno (P.M.) Glacier is one of a dozen or so glaciers in the ‘Parque Nacional Los Glaciars’ (Glacier National Park) in the province of Santa Cruz, Patagonia – in southern Argentina. It’s the largest glacier in the park (at least by some measures) and the third largest on Earth behind those in Antarctica and Iceland. The stats on the P.M Glacier are: 30km in length, a surface area of 195km2, the width (or length) of the face is 4-5km, its face is 60-80 meters high. Other than its size, this glacier is unique as it is constantly advancing rather then receding like most other glaciers. Although its speedy 1-2 meters per day may seem sluggish, its enough to ensure that huge jagged pieces of ice frequently sheer from its face crashing into the lake, causing minor tsunamis and birthing new iceburgs.

Our hostel pickup was at 7am. The first stop on our ‘Big Ice’ glacial trekking expedition, was at the observation deck (the balcony) at ‘Peninsula de Magallanes’ - opposite the centre of P. M. Glacier. From the balcony you could see amazing views of the glacier which is surprisingly blue in colour. It seemed every time we switched off our cameras a huge slab of ice would drop off the wall and crash dramatically into the lake. We were not too excited to notice grey clouds forming overhead and feel the spatter of occasional rain drops. This was not a good sign considering we were going to be walking on the ice for three hours and apart from a rain jacket, we were not wearing very water proof clothing (silly, I know but we were assured jeans were fine).






From the balcony we took a short bus ride to the shore of lake ‘Brazo Rico’ and then a boat across to the glacier. Once on the other side of the lake, we heard a loud crack (like a gun being fired) and turned to see a large full-length ice-block (120mx60m) disappear into the lake. Naturally, our cameras weren’t ready.

We were fitted with crampons (steel spikes that strap to shoes) and harnesses (in case we fall down a crevasse) and walked up through the forest along the edge of the glacier. About one kilometre inland (up-river) from the face of the glacier, we strapped on our crampons and started our four hour ice-trek across the glacier.

Leaving the shelter and relative warmth (even in rain) of the forest, we soon felt highly exposed, freezing cold and wet in the worsening wind and rain on the glacier. Through the steady stream of raindrops we saw: dark blue lagoons and deep crevasses - seemingly bottomless drains into which gushed glacial creeks (small rivers). We also viewed deep caves – all carved by rushing water, the slow grinding movement of ice and the shape of the valley below. What I hadn’t expected was the number of pebbles, rocks and enormous boulders suspended on or frozen into the middle of the ice. No doubt many years ago they had been picked up by the glacier and since then squeezed, turned and pummeled to the surface where they wait to be dropped into the watery depths of the lake.

We ate a lunch of dry buns with ham and cheese in the centre of the very wet and chilly glacier. Having tried and failed to enjoy lunch, we coldly made our way back to the boat via more glacial streams and lagoons - all amazing and natural ‘water-features’. We came across a glacial task that required Karyn to leap across a stream of not-quite-frozen-water, potentially beyond Karyn’s ligament’s level of flexibility in their frozen state. With the help of guides and me (as always) waiting with my water-logged camera (to record any fate that became her), Karyn jumped crossed the stream without incident. No longer hearing the grumbling of Karyn’s empty stomach the only sound to be heard on the galcier was the soft ‘pitter-patter’ of rain on the hood of my jacket, the ‘crunch-crunch’ of my crampons on the ice, and the soft gentle moaning of a drenched and slowly dying Karyn – painfully (and vocally) freezing to death on the idyllic Perito Moreno Glacier. I comforted my wife with the knowledge that as the frost-bite sets in, the pain would diminish – she wasn’t so easily consoled.

That everning we met with Fiona and celebrated our survival and the welcome feeling of warmth and dryness. We ate the famous patagonian lamb (lamb reared on glacial water and glacial grasses). Although Patagonian lamb was good (well worth the extortionate price we paid for it), it was not noticeably better than Australian lamb (lambs reared without grass or water).

El Calafate - Patagonia (19.09.08)

Surprisingly, our Aerolíneas Argentinas flight took off relatively on schedule - probably helped by the fact it was one of the first flights of the day. We have heard nothing but bad reports about this company which make our Air Iberia flight seem luxurious – this is extremely hard to do. The only annoying thing was that our boarding time according to the ticket was at 4.55am (not sure why it was an hour before take off), yet security wouldn’t let us thought to the departure lounge until 5.30am. Naturally (at least naturally for me) I was freaking out that we would miss our flight. I hate airports.

At El Calafate we boarded a mini van which took us to our hostel America del Sur. This place is the best hostel we have stayed in so far, I highly recommend it. The hostel also happened to be where Fiona (from Peru’s Challenge) was staying and we had arranged to meet up with her.

After dumping our bags, sorting out mountain loads of dirty washing and showering, we walked down to the main street. After refueling we embarked on a price checking excursion. It turns out there is a monopoly on each type of tour you can do here. Only one company runs the boat tour, another, the ice trekking tour and yet another, the bus trip to El Chalten. All tour offices in town have formed a syndicate and consequently they all offer the tours at the exact same price as the next company a few doors down. I don’t understand how so many tour offices can survive this way. Every forth shop is one, the three in between are a chocolate shop, souvenir store and a restaurant.

The town is not that exciting but it is situated on a lake with a backdrop of beautiful mountains. I cant believe we have made it to Patagonia. I didn’t think we could fit it in but here we are and it was well worth the expense. Snow capped peaks all around, shimmering lakes and amazing glaciers. What more could you ask for?

A Brief Stop Over in Buenos Aires (18.09.08)

The flight from Lima to Buenos Aires went smoothly. Taca seems to run everything by clockwork and we left right on time. This was especially good as Lima airport is one of the most boring places on earth and you want to spend as little time there as possible. It is also obscenely expensive – an Americano breakfast there costs 48 soles as opposed to the 15 soles it costs everywhere else. Even Melbourne airport does not mark things up by over 300%. At least not the coffee anyway.

Once we touched down in Argentina, at 4.40pm on the dot, we decided to catch the public bus number 86 to town. For only three pesos we got a two hour tour of the dodgiest suburbs of Buenos Aires. Talk about a bargain! It was akin to catching a bus from Melbourne Airport to town via Lilydale (i.e. not very direct). We got to see lots of dirty, concrete towers (I think it was community housing or at least that’s what it reminded me of) surrounded by fields and fields of litter. I think the outskirts of Buenos Aires are a depressing place to live.

Eventually we made it to the city centre. We had to hike with our packs for about 10 blocks until we arrived at our cheap lodgings. I knew the Hotel O Rei was not going to be crash hot - it had bad reviews, but what do you expect from a one star brothel. Since we had to be back at the airport at 4am I didn’t want to spend much, but perhaps we should have forked out a bit more, or just stayed in a dorm and not cared about waking everyone up in the early hours of the morning.

Hotel O Rei was the most run down dump we have encountered so far (on par with our first night in Cairo). It was the kind of place where random gun shots and blood stains would have not been out of character. At 2am people were yelling, slamming doors, watching tv with the volume up full ball, and moaning (not in a pleasurable way although I am sure that was happening elsewhere in the hotel).

When we checked out at 3.30am, a girl with her skirt halfway down her arse and a very obvious black lacey thong (you saw a good 15cm of it) came out asking for change from the man at reception. He gave her some and she walked back to the room she came from. Hmmm. Jon and I just looked at each other.

I was relieved when our taxi arrived and whisked us away from there forever.

Goodbye Peru (16.09.08 - 17.09.08)

One of the old colonial houses that line the streets of Baranco.

A once stately mansion in Baranco.

Jon and a Peruvian hairless dog - quite disgusting really (the dog that is).

We arrived in Lima around 2.30pm alter a 4.5 hour bus trip. I had found a guest house in Baranco on the internet that sounded nice, so we made our way there. We were a bit confused when the taxi dropped us off as the house didn’t look at all like a hotel but it turns out it was right. As we had ear plugs it wasn’t such a bad place and the owner was very helpful, confirming all our flights for us. If you didn’t have earplugs it would have sounded like you were sleeping metres away from a very busy highway. Actually, the front room (our room) was literally ten metres from the main road which traffic roared down around the clock. There was also another main road at the other end of the street.

We spent our time in Lima getting the laundry done, replacing Jon’s sunglasses (he stood on the other ones in a moment of excitement when a condor swooped ovehead), using the internet, eating, and of course shopping. Naturally, I had to go back to Mari’s shop and buy some more stuff, especially because Emily sent an email requesting lots of souvenirs.