Where haven't we been?

We last spoke to you all from the lovely, if nutty, city of La Paz. Often claiming to be the hightest capital city in the world, it sits in a bowl of mountains at about 4,000m (13,oooft). Helpful hints at altitude: take small steps; do not attempt to run up stairs; eat and drink in moderation (Damian!); don't smoke; be very careful when you open a bottle of pop (Julia!).

La Pax teems with markets. We saw one street that was devoted to confetti, another to popcorn; and all sold, more often than not, by ladies in bowler hats and enormous skirts. And we thought the eighties were odd.

Boliovian prices are extraordinarily low.

660ml bottle of local beer - 60p.

Room for the night - four pounds

Two course meal in a local restaurant - 40p

Slap-up steak dinner in a plush restaurant, with unlimited salad bar and more chips than you could possibly eat. 10 pounds. For three people.

When we arrived in Peru, we were appalled to be charged a pound each for a meal.

Oof! Sorry it's taken us so long to sit down and blog again. We've been busy, busy busy.





Since we last wrote, we have flown with the Bolivian military to the mighty Amazon basin. In the steamy town of Rurrenabaque, we set off in a dug-out canoe to play with pirhannas (ooo!), alligators (ooo-oo!), dolphins (aaah!) and mosquitoes (ouch!). We spent two nights under canvas, went on hunts for anacondas and sang to the pink dolphins (they seem to take a liking to Damian's Bobby Darin impression).





Here's Dames stealing a banana from a relative (Damian's in the foreground).





When we got back from the jungle, Jules and Dames dressed for action (thanks John and Marie, for the Guinness T-shirt). We spent the next afternoon happily dangling from the canopy on a series of zip-wires, suspended 40m/130ft above the ground. One of the lines was more than 200m/1300ft long (Damian screamed like a girl).

First one to make a pirate comment gets a lick of the cat.

Damian gets into a fashion argument with an ex-Guinnness advert.

The Lady in the Van.
The Other Lady in the Van.

All our luggage is on that bus. On that bus is all our luggage. That bus, on that flimsy raft, contains all our luggage. Not that we were worried at all.

Here is a picture of Julia eating a banana. No camera tricks. No bribery, except, perhaps, te chocolate sauce. No llamas were harmed in the taking of this picture.

Here is a picture of a Digger on a Train. Hello, Oscar!
We took a (dodgy) bus to Cusco, in Peru. And, after a night's cocktails, we headed off at some ungodly hour on the Inca Trail. Six thousand steps, drizzling rain, scorching sun, bouts of flatulence and attacks by marauding llamas could not keep us from our stated goal of well-cooked chips and a decent cup of tea. Oh, and the ancient ruins of Machu Picchu.


Dames tries to remember the words to "Val-de-Ri"

Although it occasionally drizzled, Julia never let her sartorial standards slip.

Day three. Yes, it was absolutely stunning.

Oh look. More ruins.


Julia demonstrates the correct attire for incidents of llama attack.