THE MARY ANNE

Getting out of Quito. Well due to our problems here I wasn't sorry to start out of town, up to the airport, book in, go to security from the public side, scan all our luggage and then, well, we walk back into the public area we have just left.

No doubt this facility allows us to pick up our bombs and Kalashnikov for the coming trip. Time and again we have had security checks only to be able to pass back into a non-secure area. No wonder the Americans are mad about security at home.

We make it through to departures.

Well well, the flight is delayed, then we are called to board, 'Flight 193 to to go to boarding gate zero??'

We can all see that the aircraft has not even landed yet but being the good sheep we are we all start to gather around the Taca airline desk. Questions, all the same, where is gate zero?

Taca lady at the desk is very pleasant and insist we all go to gate zero. Hold on, hold on where is gate zero?

'Oh, we call gate zero when we do not have a gate number'

'So where do we go'

'The flight has been delayed so everyone must go to gate zero'

Our collective heads now hurt. We just all go back to the lounge. Best really.


During this time it becomes clear the the 'crew' for the Mary Ann are all on the same flight. Time to get acquainted, all Scots and English except for two Americans, how did they get in here? Its a 'mother and daughter' trip. The like to come on the British trips, quieter apparently.

Off we go, one hour late, we have to drop into Guayaquil airport on the way to pick up more passengers but as we come into land we can see the the whole area is devastated by floods, hundreds of square miles in deep water. We are told that major damage has been done to the coffee and banana crops. Thousands of houses are deep in water, dirty brown water and I pity the people who have put down a deposit on the new housing estate we can see. All built on a flood plain!!

A serious threat to the export economy here. Out of interest when we flew by again a week later it was no better. Serious damage has been caused to the national and local economy and the flood water has nowhere to go. So sad to see.

We are due to be here for some thirty minutes, but but.

Due to board here are a mass of locals from the Galapagos, all have been working away and are now homeward bound for family holidays. Everyone knows everyone.

Everyone has to say HELLO to everyone.

All the girls have to be kissed by all the men.

All the girls have to kiss each other.

All the men have to do a 'high five' and then do a small dance much like roosters in the yard and then bump backsides together and fall down laughing.

And so it goes on. We are here over an hour before the flight attendants can get them in their seats. As soon as their backs are turned, they're up again, wriggling, leaning over the backs of seats.

But so so so happy. What can you say? Well I did think of a few things.......

We are off. The carnival continues. Near the end of the flight Duty Free comes out. A girl buys a watch. Everyone has to see it, she preens up and down, the girls oh and ah and study the label and price tag, the boys, more kisses and squeezes.

Trouble is we are now coming into land.

Will they sit down.

They will not.

Seat belt signs are on and we start to make our run in. They are still up. Staff are literally strapping them in and as they turn their backs, 'pop', they are out.

Finally the pilot puts this aircraft on its wing tip and I mean wing tip!!! I have never been on a flight where we have been 90' to the horizon. Miss Smartypants is pinned into her seat. All seat belts are straining, everything everywhere.

Its sky out of one window sea out of the other. Then 'flip' upright and hit the runway like a heavy pancake hitting the pan on Shrove Tuesday.

Plumppp!!!!

We are down, brakes on, eyes popping out of our heads. Stop. Swing off runway. Done.

Wow Wee. Its the Latin blood I reckon.

Its hot here and as I have already gone over my first impressions earlier I will not labour the point other than to say that nothing really prepares you for the animals here. Its just beyond my experience. Wonderful.

Our ship is in the bay at anchor. A three masted schooner, deep blue hull on a deeper blue sea. It looks like something out of 'Pirates of the Caribbean' or Treasure Island. We climb onto a little rubber dingy ( pangas apparently ) and out we go. Up the side like royalty.

I not sure that I have been so 'posh' in my whole life. Crew running around, only sixteen guests on board and ten crew. All dark wood and sofas inside. Straight to the aft deck ( get that nautical term there ) for lunch, awning overhead, warm breezes, and we are instantly underway to our first island.

Oh boy. This is the life!!!!

Safety drills. Strange this. When the alarm sounds we all have to go to our cabins and retrieve our life jackets. Go down stairs to our cabins in an emergency????? Quite a few queries on this point but they are adamant. Well, they will not see me down there if the boat sinks!!!!!!!!!

Buoyancy aids on and off to our first island. Landing on the beach through the surf jump off and up the onto the strand. This is not for 'sea slugs' or 'couch potatoes' you need not be fit but you must have reasonable agility. Later we saw people really struggle to get ashore.

Then straight into it, sea lions everywhere and again no movement, we walk through them up to the footpath. Footpaths. Under no circumstances do you stray from a footpath, the rules are draconian and necessary. Guides lose their licence if they allow anyone to wander.

A walk around the island then in for a swim/snorkel. The sea is warm and the water clear. Sea Lions swim with you, very curious, they are so agile and treat swimmers with a type of contempt. But we do beat them on land.

Back to the boat, showers, diner bed, exhausted.

Like so many cruise boats we travel overnight but the next day a painful awakening for me. 7am start ouch. I hate getting up. I do not do mornings!

I'll leave the island details to Christine but most are very scrub like showing their young age. Rough volcanic rock, different colours on different islands ranging from black, red, brown and all colours. Inland they are hot and humid and have a stuffy smelly atmosphere.

The beach landings are great, ride in on the surf over the side, sploosh, and up the beach.

Desiree, our guide has real job on her hands, some want to wander some want to know every detail ( spent ten minutes photographing a caterpillar on a woman's trousers at one time. ) Others, me, just skim through and take their thoughts back home with themselves. Her job is a bit of a juggle, all things to all men.

Overnight again to Santa Cruz. The main island, really well populated and that population is growing rapidly. The problem is that to support the tourism more workers are needed and because the money is good plenty come.

This island is so green compared to the others, lush dense vegetation. We are bused up to the 'Highlands' where there are large ranches which also have wild tortoise wandering about.

Boy are these guys really big, often a hundred years plus, they just wander around at their own pace through the grasslands.

At first you only see what looks like a pile of compost in the distance then that pile moves and you know you've got a tortoise. But they are only so interesting you know. Tortoise watching can get boring. They are not big on conversation.

So, when a lonely cowboy comes along what do you do?

Well, Christine starts a conversation, her in her best French, he in Spanish.

Its love at first sight!!

Next thing she jumps up on the horse, he climbs up behind holding on to her 'bits' and they are off.

They ride over hill down dale and are gone. Oh well, never mind.

I decide tea is the only answer. Tea and buns are provided in a nearby ranch house so off I go.

Twenty minutes later they are back.

Now its just my luck, Christine gets swept off her feet by the 'Lonsum Cowboy' and twenty minutes later he brings her back!!!!!!!

Not my lucky day.

They have been tortoise spotting she explains. Hmmmmm really.

Lizzy, one of the girls on the boat is also offered a ride round but she has been rather indisposed for the last few days and declines saying , I don't' think I could cope with any more rising trots!'

Back into town, lunch on the boat then off to the Darwin centre to see where they have a breeding programme for tortoise. They have big ones, George, then medium, small, and tiny. Hundreds of them.

Pretty boring I can tell you.

Back into town to hit the shops. Much better.

While in town down by the dock there is a dispute taking place with the dockers. As everything comes in by boat these are important people. And the boats are the problems.

The boat owners out to make a killing will only import high value goods, drink, cigarettes, coke, etc. But the island has virtually run out of eggs, flour and other important foodstuffs. So the Mayor has got the dockers together and has told the boat owners that they cannot land anything unless they make basic foodstuffs a priority.

They mean it, to the point that they are willing to take over the boats and go back to the mainland for the necessities.

Lots of shouting but the Mayor wins through. Go far that man.

Out through the chaos of the port, full of multi coloured boat taxis, seals, and sail boats back to the peace of the Mary Ann.

Overnight again but this time the main engine on the boat has blown a piston and so slower progress is made on the 'wing' engine. A spare. The bonus is that I don't have to get up so early the next day. A rainy day swimming and snorkeling again, but half decline to go. 'Its raining so I won't swim.' I have never understood that one.

We snorkel along an underwater cliff face of black volcanic rock which acts as a backdrop to a thousand and one fish of a thousand and one colours.

Then, not twenty feet away a shark, six or seven feet long, just off the bottom. Apparently harmless, a reef shark, oh really.

In the back of your mind it starts, that music, duum-duum, duum-duum. dumdum dumdum. Its in our brains, if I had hair it would have stood on end.

Its asleep, hmmm not so sure. I quietly paddle off.

That afternoon the piston is replaced and we are off. That's efficient. In the middle of nowhere to strip down a whacking great diesel, pop in a piston, and up and running again in twelve hours.

Chinese Hat Island, 'cause that is exactly what it looks like. I stay on board and rest.

For me, barbarian that I am, one island is much the same as another. They are all wonderful but for someone like me I can only see so many boobies and iguanas. Well, perhaps a few more boobies....

While all are away I set up with the crew for tomorrow. Christine's birthday, the big one, the five times ten one. Champagne is arranged, cakes and decorations.

The 9th March. 50years!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Early and I mean early we are moored up in a lovely 'U' shaped bay, sadly other boats in the past have done the same and have graffited a lot of the cliff faces. Some will just ruin absolutely anything. A place of great beauty scared.

Still, we run along the cliff faces in our little boat, flightless cormorants, pelicans, iguanas, they are all here, and somehow I feel a bit queasy, not me normally but, I don't' know.

Get back to the boat and I rest, but later that evening during the Champagne and cakes and even crossing the equator on Christine's' big birthday I just fold. I slip away to forty eight hours of misery in our cabin. Food poisoning., a bug I know not.

I did not recover until the day we left, even then it was a struggle. The flight back to Quito was hard work.

On arrival we are taken to a super hotel right in the centre of the town in the UNESCO heritage area and I make a steady recovery. These things cannot be helped.

ESCAPING FROM QUITO TO THE CLOUD FOREST

Now I must finish off otherwise it will never be done. Sitting at the Mill now, snowing outside and nothing better to do so back to South America.

But no excuses now, the keyboard has letters on it and the spellcheck works and, best of all, the instructions are in English and not Spanish.

Thinks thinks, okay Quito, Ecuador. We landed at Quito airport at 12:30am very tired and are taken to a very pleasant but modern hotel just alongside the airport. We are told that a meeting has been arranged for 10:30am later that morning and that after that we will be transferred to another hotel more in keeping with our itinerary.

Breakfast at 10:00am, the tour company have rung but did not want to disturb our meal so that will come back to us later.

Midday, no meeting no contact. We are unable to contact our tour company by telephone.

Eventually we find a tour rep at 2:30pm but he cannot help but does give us a 'bypass' number. Contact made, 'Ah, we were waiting for you to contact us' hmmmm, ok.

Apparently we have to tell them what we want to do but not knowing the options what do they suggest. '

Well, we have no one to help you we are short staffed and anyway we do not have anywhere for you to go. But hold on we have a bed and breakfast for one night in the rain forest, that will be $524US.'

But we cannot go today because it will be dark soon and its raining!!!!!!!!!! Very odd.

They then explain that there is nothing else available. We could pick up our trip to the Napo Valley, flying in on Monday and out on Tuesday and a six hour trek in then the same out. Whats the point? We would just spend two days flying.

We speak with the hotel staff and ask for help and are told that we have been booked into their hotel by the tour company for four nights!!

This hotel, all very nice, but our room has two massive picture windows that look out onto other picture windows of other rooms in the hotel and if I stand on the toilet seat I can see the airport runway. We are under the flight path of this very same runway.

This is contrary to all our booking instructions and basically the tour company have dumped us in this hotel until our schedule catches up with us. We are not being moved to a better hotel as promised, there will be no meetings to discus the next three days, they have nothing for us. We have been dumped!!

We hit the books, go on the computer and after twenty minutes Christine finds two nights at an eco centre in the rain forest for $360US.

Guided tours included, full board, waterfalls and bird watching. A quick telephone call. They have vacancies tonight, taxi arranged, packed and off we go. Then we are stopped at reception, we have to inform the tour company where we are going, for how long and how have we made our arrangements.............

'Just tell the tour company we have gone' I could have said more but why bother?

The minibus taxi is ready. Henrique driving and his daughter, Monica, is along for company. We drive out of the city, pass the Equator Line theme park with its massive obelisk and out into the darkening road.

Henry is an 'electric' driver. The switch is either on or off. The brakes are on, they are off. Bang. The clutch is the same, the accelerator, the steering are all bang on, bang off. This is going to be a rough ride.

The road out is the major road between Quito and the coast. It is full of massive potholes and as it gets dark we realise that there is heavy traffic in both directions.

Some have lights, some don't. All the traffic sways from side to side as they swerve around the million and one pot holes.

Someone in front? Just overtake, into blind bends, junctions whatever.

And now the road really starts to snake as we enter the mountains. The rain is torrential and the road clings to the side of the mountains, twisting, turning, up, down.

There is a sense of a massive void in the blackness on our right side and on the left sheer cliffs for mile after mile. There are landslides down from above and all have to swing round the piles of debris and rocks. Throughout our Henry never stops talking, jabber jabber.

Oh dear, oh dear now I understand about the rain and dark. We fly by transport cafes with trucks all around. On endless bends the armco barriers have holes where previous travellers have not made the curve, and on and on we go.

This switchback last for an hour and a half and at last we turn off into a quiet side road, the tarmac soon disappears but does Henry slow down, no Henry does not.

Twenty, thirty minutes, endless potholes, donkeys, cattle loom up and pass by. Small ill lit villages then the track narrows, a few houses, and the track narrows and narrows. Then a dead stop at a set of gates. Mobile calls in Spanish, we reverse back through the mud and holes and there in the rain is Tom. Flashlight in hand, wow, at last.

Out we get into warm rain and warmer greetings. Henry and Monica make their way back to Quito and Tom takes us down a track to the river. We know its a river because although we cannot see it we can hear its roar below us. 'We don't have a bridge' Tom tells us and we step under a shelter that holds a 'bosun's chair' suspended on cables over the river below.

'Quite safe' Tom says.

Our luggage is loaded and off into the night it goes, lost to sight. Tom explains that as an eco centre that they do not have electricity only oil lamps, candles and torches. Okay...

The chair is back, Christine clambers on, I can see her white knuckles in the dark and more of an indication of her concern.

She has stopped talking!!!!!!

Slowly she is winched away into the dark. I do not know how far it is to the other side or what is there, but slowly she vanishes into the total blackness, just the river roaring below. Five minutes pass and the chair comes back empty, did she make it?

On I get, creaking cables as my 200lb takes the chair almost to the floor. Making a jerky progress I go into total black only to see a faint light coming toward me, I can't hear a thing with the roar and then a smiley indian and Christine ease into view, solid ground underfoot. Oh my, I feel better to be off that thing.

Cases are whisk away and Tom leads us off along a jungle track, the noise of the river fades and jungle sounds take over. Then into view comes a massive open indian 'longhouse'. High roofs disappear into the surrounding dark, soft lights inside, quiet ' good evenings' from other guest laying around in hammocks and soft chairs, beautifully polished floors, super furniture, warm and damp. Tom takes us straight in to dinner, all vegie here, drinks, a really

good meal,chats with the other four guests then bed back with our tilly lamb into the jungle to our cabin, lets just say we got lost in the bushes for some time, someone, missed a turning.

No lights, just oil lamps, full on suite, big soft beds, the river in the back ground and sleep, dead sleep. The best for days.

Wake up to humming birds at the windows, no curtains, no neighbours.

Back to the longhouse for breakfast then Christine goes out with the guide, Sandra, for a morning of bird watching. I just relax and wander the 100 acre grounds talking with a few locals.

One, the gardener here, tends about an acre of ground right outside the longhouse, its his job to provide fresh veg and fruit to the centre, all this is done in raised beds and he does have the advantage that anything that is stuck in the ground grows, and grows quickly. The year round warmth, sun in the morning and then at 2:00pm it rains, can set your watch by it, all make for good growing.

But we all have our problems, at home we have moles here they have armadillos. They raid the beds on a regular basis scratching up what they don't eat, real pests. But this is an eco centre so they have to get round them in other ways than mole traps. We all have our cross to carry!

In the afternoon compulsory white water rafting. Well, that's what I was told.

Sandra the guide sends us off down the track to the lunch site. We miss it and walk for a mile but no problem here we just thumb a lift in an open back truck back up the hill to the start. Any truck will usually pick a walker up but it is a rough old ride!

Here we go. Some eight 'doughnuts' strapped together, buoyancy aids, helmets and then we have to sit inside the rings. Bums in water feet in air. What they don't tell you is that rain forest or not the water comes straight off the mountain and is like ice, imagine sticking your backside in

a bowl of icy water and you've got it.

Great for the piles I'm told.

Shove off, two lads acting as guides, no paddles. When a rock comes up they just leap over the side and steer round it by pushing and shoving. Not too precise as my backside can testify having hit more than one underwater 'obstruction'. Several miles later, cold bruised and laughing out we come and back for hot showers.

Back at camp we hear on the radio that Colombian troops have crossed into Ecuador killing some fourteen people. The Colombians call them drug dealers/terrorist the Ecuadorians say they are students. This is a common problem here but this time Venezuela gets involved with their new leader, Chavez? Anyways it is getting out hand, threats, counter threats, military moved to the borders. This is how wars start. Still where we are not a problem.

Both out with the guide Sandra early the next day climbing up through the dense dense forest over rough trails and strangely there are none of those annoying insects that bite and nibble here. Endless bird life, as boring as hell to me but Christine and Sandra are ducking and weaving to get better views, exchanging details and on and on. Oh dear.

But the biggest butterflies ever in the jazziest of colours abound, leaf cutter ants always underfoot, and toucans, I have only ever seen a toucan on a Guinness advert and here they are in droves. Vultures, buzzards, I must be getting the bug. They get serious 'twitchers' here who will sit looking at a budgies back end for hours and so they take them to an island in the middle of the river that stinks to high heaven and they soon give up for the day!

Further into the hills more cable cars, this one is broken thank goodness, 120' drop on a ropey rope cable car was not my idea of a good time even if you could see vultures below.

I could guess what they were hanging about for anyway.

As we make our way along the track we pass farmers on mules taking milk into town, no trucks here, and families accompanied by packs of dogs making their way back from town, all happy to meet and chat for five minutes, no town rushes here.

Then onto the afternoon and more 'compulsory games'. The Canopy. This is a series of zip wires through the trees tops, some fifteen in all, crossing from one side of a canyon to the other at heights over 70/80'!!!!!!!!!

Yep, this is compulsory, its in the room price, you have to do it.

But I do not like heights.

We whizz back and forth across this canyon. A straight two hands on, superman where you 'fly' through the air face down arms and legs akimbo with a guy holding on behind steering. The butterfly where you fly upside down in a star shape, oh my back.

I did suggest to one girl we met there that a pregnancy test after her run might be in order, but oh boy, oh boy. I then found out that members of the Church of Latter Day Saints do not always have a sense of humour!!!!!!!!!!

They being missionaries did however later relent and give us a lift into town. But I definitely suffered from a sharp case of 'Foot in Mouth'.

We had to leave sadly that evening, it was just great and just what we needed after a bad few

days. What a wonderful place. We wish them well.

Back into Quito, the same route, oh dear, it looked worse in daylight. Deep deep valleys and the road for endless miles was just cut into the cliff face and followed the contours round and round. Lots of damaged vehicles and so busy with trucks and buses, but our driver this time was the 'king of slow' and we had a scenic rather than scary ride back to town.

Back into our schedule, bed for the night at the Cafe' Cultura, every room different but old, worn out and charming. Big soft sofas and chairs, roaring fires ( cold up here at altitude 4'C ) steaks for dinner after two vegie days and to bed ready for the off. The last week.

TITICACA ROOF OF THE WORLD

Right, need to play catch up here. I am a long ways behind. Here I am in Quito, Equador, internet cafe, ABBA booming out in the background, riots in the streets, oh yes. A big protest in the town square here. Again riot police out in numbers. It seems a way of life down here in these democratic, para-military states. But everyone is able to have their say but the trouble is they all have varying opinions, same the world over. At least we have got used to it now, after some five weeks.

Now they tell me things are still bad with Columbia, talk of war. oh dear.

Still, onwards. Catch up.

Into Puno by train. Puno, there is no reason in the world to be here. It is an ugly town in a lovely setting and its main business seems to be to ferry people out to these islands which are offshore

reed islands. There may be up to a hundred of these islands, I will come back to them in detail later, they are lived on by native indians and the main reason for them to exist is the money earnt from tourist and the fact that the islands are regarded as temporary accomodation and as a result the indians have a tax break. As long as they are resident on the islands they pay no tax. A pin to burst my bubble!

The hotel is okay for the next two nights but is surrounded by high walls topped with a very efficient electric fence. I spoke with the security guy at the back gate, ´No, no problems here, its just to make the tourist feel safe,´ To keep them in rather than to keep the locals out.

On the second day we made a short walking trip down the railway line, two trains a day, to the local boat yard. In there they have an ex steam boat that was once a gunboat on the Lake and is now owned by an English woman who is undertaking a full restoration with the help of Captain Carlos ex Peruvian navy. A big task but it is coming on well, the boat looks good. On mentioning our naval connections we were given the red carpet treatment, piped down the gang plank. At least I think it was red carpet. Very sticky.

Following day a long drive round the lake shores. Pretty boring, the plain around the lake is all farmed, mostly spuds. Just farm after farm each with its blue ´thunderbox´ outhouse. This stops lake pollution and the earth closett remains are used on the farm. Not so good on the pollution front are the endless tin cans and plastic bottles that line the roadsides, block small streams and generally pile around the outside of towns and villages. Most Communes have a football stadium, basketball courts but no rubbish disposal system. Rubbish does not win votes. Still they are trying.

We approch a market town, we know this because we are being overtaken by minibuses, taxis, and on the roof racks are sheep goats pigs llamas chickens all held down by netting. Apparently they cannot afford trucks or trailors so they call a minibus, mum dad and kids inside, animals out. The market is very big and there are hundreds of minibus in today.

Cannot see it working at Ulverston somehow.

Cross the border into Bolivia, this is a bit like the old ´Check Point Charlie´in Berlin, loads of paperwork then a walk across no mans land ´to the second check point under the archway. The countryside is still much of the same, a little bit richer here. Well, only on the border where smuggling is rife. We were searched to see if we had any 13kg gas cylinders in our back packs. One navel officer, one customs officer, and one police officer. Why?´ we asked our guide. ´Well, to ensure each of the three services gets its fair share of the bribe!!´

Into Copacabanna, a pretty village situated on a lovely bay, this is not the Barry Manilow one, a quick spin round the very Moorish cathedral and into the Naval base to pick up our hydrofoil.

Lots of very new recruits in new uniforms lining up to learn to march, but a no photograph rule is strictly enforced, mainly I think because they were so so bad at marching. Just like ducklings, waddle waddle, lots of shouting but also laughter. They were happy.

Out onto the lake, whoosh. First visit, Isle of the Moon. This is where young virgins were brought to have their throats ritually cut in the name of the Inca Moon god.

Now, to ensure a good supply of perfect virgins only women were allowed to work on the island and to make sure no faulty goods slipped through the net the girls were brought here at the age of eight years, kept in a loose captivity until they were sixteen and then chopped!!!

Where were the parents in all this I do not know.

Whoosh, Island of the Sun next. This is where the gods come to to earth to meet the Incas. I could understand why they choose this spot, a very good lunch was waiting overlooking a perfect bay, peace perfect peace. Here our guide suggested a tip to the waitress out of all proportion to the normal. We left the normal having been told he had a thing about her!!!!!!!!!

Mmm, keep an eye on him.

Away again. The lake is lovely but no better than any other in the world other than the fact it is the highest. Yes, its big, but compared to Como or Garda, no, not as beautiful.

Onto our next stop, a floating reed island but this time run by a co-op of indians trying to preserve their dying language and life style. They have set up one island for visitors but live on others that are private to them. They are quiet, charming, no plastic toys for sale here just a demonstration of their life style.

One little girl latched onto Chrisitine, had to show her the bed in her hut, her table and chairs all family made. Demonstrations of local diets, mainly fish and a reed that provides a vitimin base. All our small group of English and Canadians were really moved by their sincerity and their welcome. A lovely innocence lets hope they hang on, I doubt it.

Boat and bus into Pa Paz via Alto Plano, the highest commercial airport in the world we are told, extra long runways because of the thin air some 4.500m up. The town is a victim of its runaway ecconomy and population, over a million people living in chaos.

On to La Paz. Now, imagine a vast endless plain and then across that plain a massive gash in the surface, then in that gash a massive city of millions is built, that is La Paz. The view from the bus down into this hole is terrific, strange almost the way the buildings go up to the very edge of the canyon but no further. But then delve down into the city, the infrastructure is really out paced by the human demands placed on it, one big road right down the middle then chaos off to both sides. On ocassions you cannot breath for the fumes from the buses and lorries you can even, see the fumes, its that bad yet you see stall holders sitting on the kerbside with babies laid beside them breathing in this acrid atmosphere.

Into this melee we go, people everywhere selling everything, but this is not a tourist city so we are not there targets. Into the hotel, lovely but we are not to go out after dark, its not safe.

Next day we hit the town, the witches market, dried, dead anything here, feotus of most animals, endless herbs to cure everything, this is Diagon Alley!! But cheek by jowl with the massive cathedral, all best of friends.

Downtown for coffee in a strange bar, great coffee and the background music is, for those with a long enough memory, the Mike Sam Singers, then, then, really, the Billy Cotton Band Show!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I could not believe my ears.

Out around town, not for tourist this place but fasinating just watching the endless crowds. School kids in very smart uniform, grey skirts, ties, boys grey flannels, all with shirts tucked in and ties done up. Education is important here. Kids conform or are out.

Into an indifferent bar for lunch, stand up to pay the bill and,,,,,,,,, BOOM.

A massive explosion, staff fly to the kitchen, clients under the tables, doors are blown open and I think the windows are coming in. What the......................

A hundred yards from here five years ago a fire fight was played out on the streets that left thirty dead, no wonder at the locals reactions.

Calm, staff re-appear. Its okay just demontrators, miners, along the road. They are setting off stun bombs, massive, you feel your eardrums are about to burst, but peaceful at the moment. We make our way out and the streets are filled with protestors, we head for the hotel, not being too happy with the situation. But school kids sit by the road side doing their homework by the street stalls owned by their parents so it cannot be too bad. One way the kids go home from school is to follow a slow moving bus up the very steep hills and running behind grab the bumper bar and have a running tow to the top, the down side is that they get smothered in diesel fumes.

But later the demos get out of hand, a member of congress is ´scragged´by the crowd and it becomes violent. I watch her on TV and in the end I felt she got what she deserved, very provocative.

The sirens again through the night. It seems a way of life here.

La Paz has nothing for the tourist and we are glad to fly out the next day. Ho ho ho!!!!!!!!!!

Up to Alto Plano, 5am, five hours later we find out our aircraft has broken down, no replacement, the city claws us back into it maw for another night. Oh so unhappy. Hours spent at the airport in contact with our tour company and we give them instructions for hotels etc.

The problem is we should be going to the Napo Wildlife Reserve in the Amazon tomorrow, that there are only two flights a week to Napo and we will have missed them So thats it. All the stress, anger yet again, but thats how this place works or rather doesn't work.

At nine the next morning we are told, along with the other 200 passengers, and this includes the flight crew, we have fifteen minutes to pack to get our flight, this is South America at it most efficient, eventually we make the flight out after more delays, then into Lima for an eight hour wait. Of course we have lost our earlier connections and as a result we have lost a four day trip down the Amazon by canoe to an eco centre, and here we are at Lima airport, ah bliss.

Eight hours at an airport, sketches.

Two nuns also from our flight, sleeping on a bench, the soles of their feet, not their souls, touching as they lay out flat, one blanket for both up to their knees and their head gear, I do not know the name, folded forward over their heads. As they softly breath the cloth over their faces rises and falls. Oh what peace.

The TACA staff who very rudely bounce a woman and male companion off the KLM flight to Schipol, she is dressed in furs, he quiet, she is very polite and they are rude, she breaks. Í am the wife of the Bolivian Ambassador in Paris and this is his aide´ I have never seen fear like it. The man next to me explains, Ín this country you do not do that and get away with it.´ Five minutes later the couple are being escorted away by a very worried man in a very smart suit. Gallows I reckon!

Samuari or Ninja Turtles? We see some six or seven motocycles outside, all red, two men on each, all dressed in black in a Samuari type uniform with no markings, carrying automatic rifles. Someones private army. Hmmm.

At last we fly out to Quito and leave Bolivis and Peru behind. Thoughts on the two, well I will lump them together. They will not appriciate that but...

No cars, or very few. Lots of very cheap cabs, buses, minibuses, few trains and flights expensive. Very few ever get to car ownership but perhaps with the cabs so cheap, pennies, they do not need them.

All over the economy and population outrun the infrastructure, if the roads etc are brought up to standard the over use and lack of repair soon pushes them back again. I never saw anyone looking underfed or without shoes. The poor are very poor but food is plentiful but life is hard at the bottom of the pile here and at the bottom of the pile is often the indian. Education does get them out and steps are being taken to push learning into all homes, grants etc to stop parents sending kids out to work too early.

The indians are sombre to start with but then can be smilely and helpful to an extreme but you can see why they just explode into protest sometimes.

This part of the tour has been an adventure. Beautiful, stressful, angry, heartbreaking, breathtaking, in particular the altitude sickness, all things in all ways.

I think we are going to have a mess to sort out when we get home.