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Choro trail

After our salt flats tour we headed to Uyuni airport to catch our flight back to La Paz and then onto the rainforest and pampas at Rurrenabaque in the north. Regrettably our flight to Rurrenabaque was cancelled due to weather conditions, which means a wet (grass) runway or, as our travel agent suggested, they don't have enough planes to run the flight. Either way, we were stuck back in La Paz for the fourth time with a few days to spare.

We ran around town getting refunds for the flights and tour we had booked (surprisingly easy), then looked around for things to do. The most appealing option was the Choro Trail - a three day tramp from the high Andes following a pre-Incan path all the way down to the cloud forest. The path starts at around 4500m above sea-level, climbs to 4900m, then descends more than 3500m to finish at 1300m.

We started our ascent in fresh snow with beautiful clear skies. The track warden told us that the weather wasn't looking so good over the other side of the hill, so it wasn't a great surprise when the cloud closed in on our ascent, with visibility at about 5m at times. We could see the path in front of us and followed it safely to the top. As we crested the summit we saw glimpses of the sheer drop into valleys below. There were some incredible, but fleeting views.

The descent follows a stone path laid by pre-Incans hundreds of years ago. Coming down from the mountain of Apacheta Chucura, the path zig-zags relentlessly down to the valley floor at 3800m, by which point the snow and tussock had given way to alpine grass and low shrubs. On the way down we passed a couple of local indigenous women walking in the opposite direction. There's no road access, so walking over the mountain is the only way out for them.

Directly at the foot of the mountain are the ruins of pre-Incan houses. As we were descending towards the ruins, a herd of alpacas slowly wound their way up the valley towards us. As we arrived at the ruins the alpacas were grazing at the site while their shepherd lay sleepily against an outer wall to keep an eye on them.

An hour or so further down the valley we came across another larger herd of alpacas, tended by a young girl who should have been at school (if only the nearest school wasn't 15km away on foot). She approached us for a chat and we shared some food with her. Unfortunately we didn't have enough food for her to take home to share with her 9 siblings.

A further half hour along the valley we passed the small village where the girl lived, then continued merrily for an hour or so more before another steep and sustained descent. By this time the vegetation had changed markedly to rich green forest, with the track following a thunderous river. Our knees were sore and weary from the constant downhill and the odd slip and fall. We could see our first night's campsite from miles away, but it took a good hour and a half to negotiate the way down, all the while cursing the pre-Incans for their uneven stonework.

The campsite was located at 2900m above sea-level in a small hamlet called Challapampa. They had run out of room on their sign, so had abbreviated the name to 'Challapamp.' rather than squeeze an extra 'a' on there. The hamlet has just six or seven houses, a church, a swing-bridge and a campsite, and is home to two or three families, a dog, a puppy (so presumably another dog had visited at some point), and a young feline family with three kittens. It was a charming spot.

Our camp cooking was a triumph (who knew that cucumber was good in vegetable soup?) and we enjoyed a nice hot cup of coca before bed.

Then it rained. It absolutely pissed down, in fact. There was a thunderstorm for an hour or so, then the rain continued steadily for another five hours, straining our little tent to its limits. It held firm. All evidence of the storm seemed to have soaked away into the valley by the time we got underway again at 8.00am.

The second day's hike descended further into more tropical forest before a wicked steep climb up to our second campsite amid a tiny banana plantation. The site was run by a gold-miner who we never saw; he was apparently down the mine working a late shift. We had passed the tiny shaft entrances an hour or so before camp and had wondered if they were derelict. Poor locals were still crawling down there for a pittance.

We met a former miner, Francisco, who lives in a hut at the campsite. It's just him and his brother who live there, with company from locals who stay the night on their way between villages and the odd tourist who passes through. They say there are a lot of tourists now, but there was nobody the day before us, and we were the only foreigners the day we went through.

Francisco joined us for some more triumphant camp cooking - onion soup with leftover rice - and told us about the site (named after him) and the mines. I think he was pleased we were eating soup because his mouth was not well furnished with teeth.

The third day was slightly shorter but still spectacular. After a gentle descent to a washed-out swing bridge, the track climbed up an ancient steep stone staircase for an hour or so. They call it something like 'devil's rise'. We were cursing the pre-Incans.

Once the staircase ended, the ascent continued all the way through to another tiny village run and founded by an old Japanese man. The village was a hive of activity, relatively speaking. There were about 20 people there, all gathered for the Bolivian census. The Japanese man was nowhere to be seen. We wondered if he had gone to ground to avoid the Government.

The census only happens once a decade and is a snapshot of the country on that day. To ensure accuracy, we were intercepted and included in the count. An official had walked up from the end of the road a few hours away to conduct the questionnaires. With limited literacy in the area, the official read out the questions and entered the answers himself. As luck would have it, our Spanish was good enough to understand and answer the questions.

The official hadn't heard of New Zealand, but assumed it was near Holland. One of the questions was about what languages we spoke. As K and I both speak German, we left them with the impression that NZ is an obscure European country where people speak English and German.

The villagers were kind enough to share their lunch with us while the census man went about his business. They wouldn't even accept payment. We ate lots of the food, but had to hide the small omelet and strip of meat under our rice and dispose of them surreptitiously. We didn't feel like explaining that New Zealanders were also all vegans.

From the village we had a two hour descent down to the road. From there we caught a taxi into a town called Coroico, where cycle tours of the 'world's most dangerous road' end. It's a cloud forest area with heaps of birdlife and tropical plants. We stayed the night in a cabin in the forest with hummingbirds and fireflies for company. It was all very acceptable.

The next morning we dragged our stiff and sore bodies onto a pint-sized bus back to La Paz... our fifth and final time in La Paz.

Unfortunately, time has run out and we are on our way back to Australia via New Zealand. We are looking forward to some happy times with friends and to boring them shitless with our photos.

Salt flats

After a short stop in La Paz, we flew down to Uyuni to join a tour of the Bolivian salt flats, Salar de Uyuni. The only way to see the Salar is with organised tour. There are dozens of operators and reviews tend to vary from barely adequate to terrible. We booked with a company called Red Planet Expeditions, which I found relatively amusing for a company that runs tours to a white desert. Red Planet had good reviews and was considered a mid-level tour with reasonable safety and accommodation.

Our tour began with the realisation that we had no tour guide, as the guide's seat had been sold to another tourist, fitting six of us in the truck. The driver spoke a little English and we were told that he would be the guide. His guiding consisted mainly of telling us when we should take photos.

Our accommodation was also somewhat questionable. We were told that we would have double rooms on the first night, which we spent in a hotel constructed entirely from salt. Instead we had a four bed dorm. We had to pay for showers - there was one shower for the 30+ guests staying there. The second night was in a 6-bed dorm with one bathroom ($3.50 for a shower). The toilet was of the non-flushing variety; not so much a long-drop as a short-drop. Disgusting.

Food was predictably bad for us. We had warned the company well in advance that we were vegan, and they assured us that that would be no problem. As we left Uyuni, a company rep handed me a big apple pie to carry 'for the group'. Did it contain butter? Yes. Then for dinner we were provided the entirely vegan 'meal' of shredded carrot and potato chips. Breakfast on day two was pancakes, which we can't eat because they have eggs and possibly milk. We asked for something we could eat and were given stale bread buns... topped with cheese.

Enough about how crap the tour company was. The Salar was beautiful and amazing. The flats are approximately 110km by 120km, all covered at varying depths with pure salt. The glare is blinding - salt miners literally became blinded by the light before sunglasses were brought in. The contrast to the deep blue sky was spectacular. Our 'guide' told us that the salt plains were formed around 8000 years ago when rivers of salt water from the Pacific Ocean flowed down to these plains. Yes, he said the Pacific drained into the Andes (the flats are at about 3500m above sea level) just 8000 years ago. He is several million years off with that calculation. Wikipedia (the real man's travel guide) tells me that the Andes (in which the Salar lies) were formed between 138 and 65 million years ago. The salt plains themselves were formed around 30,000 years ago when Lake Minchin evaporated.

On the second day of the tour we visited some incredible lagoons of many different colours. Streaks of red, yellow, blue and white cover the water and hundreds, nay thousands of pink flamingos strut about. Our 'guide' told us that the flamingos ate shrimps. The shrimps come from underground. It later transpired that he didn't know what shrimps were. Anyway, the flamingos and the lagoons were really beautiful.

We also visited what our 'guide' (I'm persisting with the inverted commas) said was a semi-active volcano. It was blowing smoke. I think we can agree that it was active. The fields of lava rocks surrounding the volcano were also very cool. Wind erosion had formed the rocks into interesting and diverse shapes. We were told to take photos.

We had some great company on the tour with two New Zealanders (yay) and a French/Dutch couple who were all of similar ages and interests. Some good ghost stories were told, and the ills of the world were put to right.

Overall, it was a fantastic place to visit. It was just a pity to be so badly let down by the tour company.

Cusco and Machu Picchu

We turned back to Peru after Quito. We planned to visit Machu Picchu, which we'd skipped on our first route through. It was my only 'must visit' on this trip.

It's about 50 hours by bus from Quito to Cusco. We flew. The flight had three legs, rather like a three-legged dog, but not as hairy. The first leg was a 6.00am domestic flight within Ecuador to meet the international flight. We assumed we'd just have to check in an hour before, but checked with the airline just in case. They said it's an international flight, regardless of the first leg being domestic. The 'rule' is that check-in is three hours before the flight, but that two hours would be sufficient. It certainly proved to be sufficient as the terminal didn't open until an hour before the flight. The shoe-shine guy was there before any airline staff. Other than that, the flight was good, and definitely a significant improvement on a 50 hour bus ride.

We were (are) running out of time, so we opted for the much-frowned-upon one-day return trip to Machu Picchu from Cusco. We took the train from Cusco to Aguas Calientes, which is a cute tourist town in a deep gorge at the bottom of Machu Picchu. The train ride was spectacular.

From there, you have to get a bus up the mountain (or walk up if time and fitness aren't an issue). There is a monopoly on the bus trip, so the 20 minute trip cost almost a dollar a minute. The price-gorging continues at the entrance to Machu Picchu where hungry people have the option of not eating, or paying $35pp for a friggin buffet (no other options). And you aren't permitted to take your own food into the reserve. The buffet is so precious that entrance to the restaurant is controlled by an armed security guard.

Machu Picchu itself was amazing.  The site is huge, with several walks to parts of the site which overlook the city. But what I found most impressive and inconceivable is the location. It is at 2500m altitude, miles from anywhere in the middle of the mountains. How the hell they found, and presumably transported enough rock to build the temples, buildings and terraces, let alone source water and grow sufficient crops at such a location is quite beyond me. Cunning old Incas.

Next time we go to Machu Picchu we'll give ourselves more time so we can do some of the longer walks around the site, but we found that the 4 hours we had there was plenty to have a good look around.

We spent the rest of our short time back in Cusco just pottering about, going to markets, visiting fancy churches and eating good food. In comparison to the $35 buffet, we had some delicious vegan set lunches at San Blas market for less than $2pp. We also had the most delicious Japanese udon; the noodles were freshly made to order and were perfect. Food quality will be all downhill from here as we head back into Bolivia.

Quito and around

From an idyllic Pacific island holiday lifestyle of beaches, slow pace and beautiful weather we arrived into Quito in pelting rain with cracks of thunder amplified by the surrounding mountains. Our taxi driver got lost near our hostal, likely because of the unique grid reference address system that Quito has adopted. 'Take us to Oe3-18 please sir'. I think he was a bit blind too, so that didn't help. We weren't about to hop out and find it ourselves in the middle of a storm, carrying our luggage, so we just did laps for a while.

We were staying in the historic centre of the city, which has been substantially restored and is now saturated by tourist police to make it safe for visitors. The centre is punctuated by several elaborate churches and monasteries. Two churches particularly dominate - La Compañia and El Sagrario. Each is drenched in gold, with the altars, ceilings and side chapels all particularly well furnished. The lashings of gold paint and adornments was all a game to woo the locals by showing how rich, powerful and stylish Christianity was. It was also a competition between the two catholic orders. Their petty games have left a spectacular legacy for visitors.

We also visited a couple of other churches, including the basilica which is adorned with gargoyles of native fauna. There are tortoises, armadillos, jaguars, frigate birds and of course boobies. Unfortunately, several gargoyles had been destroyed or damaged in earthquakes, but there appeared to be some restoration work going on.

As a bit of light relief from just churches we also visited a monastery and a religious art gallery. Monasteries are my thing now. Cloisters in particular, and not just because I like the word. I would just enjoy wandering around beautifully manicured courtyards, deep in meditation. I just need a religion. And a cloister. And a gardener.

We managed a couple of short trips out of Quito too. We got up at sparrows' fart to bus to Otavalo, a traditional market town a couple of hours north. The town booms on Saturdays with at least four different markets taking over. We went to the artisan market which sells textiles, jewellery and clothing. We were there early enough to avoid the crowds and get some space to wander, compare and barter in a relaxed environment. We gave the animal market a miss.

Our other side trip was an overnight foray into the cloud forest at Mindo. The town itself is situated pretty much in the forest, while our accommodation was a further 7 or 8km into the hills up a rickety dirt road, fording three or four streams on the way. The lodge is sandwiched between a river on one side and a soaring cliff on the other, completely surrounded by dense bush. Hummingbirds visit the balcony while the frogs provide the music at the outdoor bar by a pond.

We shared the lodge with two British couples who were both great company. Our relationship with one of the couples started a bit poorly though; we met them by coincidence in Mindo town and ascertained that we were staying at the same place. We talked about sharing a taxi and found a driver who was prepared to take us there. You generally have to agree a price in advance because 'taxi' is just a loose term meaning 'bloke with a truck and some time to spare'. The negotiation began with the driver naming his price ($8), generally expected to be around twice the going rate. Before we had a chance to bargain, the English muppet shot back with 'oh, that's nothing', then decided he didn't need to share a taxi after all. He chose to just have lunch in town and head out to the lodge later. This had an impact on our bargaining position. He turned out to not be as much of a tool as he seemed and was actually very entertaining, particularly his story of kissing a drunk, toothless Ecuadorian cross-dresser... twice.

We spent our time in Mindo zip-lining above rainforest canopy, visiting a butterfly breeding enclosure and doing a spot of birdwatching. The birding, as they call it, was arranged through our lodge. We got up at 5.30am to await a wee man from the village to guide us. He wore a khaki vest and binoculars so we knew he was legit. He turned up late then walked us up the dirt road for an hour, pausing periodically to point at trees, which he called 'birds'. We did however see beautiful tucans.

To be fair to the guide, the lodge owner didn't allow him to take us to more lush areas of his property which have more birds. He was a bit restricted in what he could show us. And two or three hours of birdwatching doesn't really compare to real birdwatchers with khaki vests who build special hides to shelter for days trying to catch a glimpse of a rare bird the size and colour of a sparrow. And we did see tucans both in flight and rustling about in trees. They are fancy.

Galapagos

The day before we were due to join our cruise, we arrived in the attractive Galapagos beachfront town of Puerto Ayora. We wandered along the beach and caught a sea lion leaping into an anchored fishing boat, watched bright red crabs crawl over lava rocks and almost trod on marine iguanas sunning themselves on a fishing dock. Our flights were scheduled to take us back to the mainland the day after our cruise, but we were already somewhat smitten with the place. We contacted the airline and added a week to our stay.

I'd always imagined the Galapagos to be a remote, isolated and desolate group of islands, inhabited only by the abundant wildlife and visited only by grey-haired scientists. It's not quite like that.

The islands are almost 1000km off the coast of Ecuador, but they are not really isolated and some islands are inhabited. Several flights full of tourists and locals arrive daily from the mainland. There are two main airports and each is supported by sizable townships, agriculture and fleets of cruise vessels. There are ATMs, supermarkets, hotels and restaurants. It's part of the real world.

That doesn't detract at all from the wildlife experience. Once you get on a boat, you don't see houses, roads, cars, power lines or aircraft until you disembark. It's just you, the boat, the water and the wildlife.

The curiosity and tameness of the animals is astounding. We swam with a turtle, were within spitting distance of a pod of dolphins, stepped over sea lions that were blocking our path and virtually laid an egg in a blue-footed boobie's nest. Every step you take is a risk of squashing a lizard, kicking an iguana or, more likely, stepping in sea-lion excrement.

The cruise boats range from 'tourist class' to something like 'emporer of the world class', and prices vary accordingly. We got really lucky by coming in the off season, which is only 6 weeks long, and were therefore able to join a cruise at a budget price in a midrange category. Due to a booking mishap (our agent 'confirmed' our booking, then sold our places to someone else), we even got upgraded to a suite cabin with king sized bed, couch, jacuzzi, balcony, indoor cricket pitch and English country garden. It was really not what I'd expected of the Galapagos; I expected very basic skinny ship beds or bunks with a basin of cold water for washing. But it's luxury. It made me feel a little uncomfortable actually. Nobly, I suffered through all the same.

Our tour didn't cover a lot of distance, but visited several islands in the archipelago and gave us the opportunity to see more animals than a sheep shearer in spring. We had incredible luck on our first day: the plan was to go and snorkel along a rocky coastline to look at some fish or rocks or something passé. But on our way to the site we stumbled on a pod of bottlenose dolphins (that was figurative stumbling - these dolphins weren't amphibious). We spent about a quarter of an hour buzzing around with them as they swam and jumped around our dinghy. They are so graceful and powerful; just awesome.

Next we went on land for a short walk with sea lions (including the cutest pups), iguanas, frigate birds with massive puffed out red necks, blue-footed boobies, red-footed boobies and several other birds (but no tom tits, unfortunately).

In the days that followed, the wildlife interactions were constant and consistently spectacular. A penguin swam past me while I was snorkeling, scything through schools of bright tropical reef fish. We came close to a large turtle underwater, shared a moment with a stingray and saw aquatic iguanas swimming along the beach's edge. Pink flamingos and red crabs joined the party along with yellow land iguanas and their cousins the lava lizards. We also visited a sea-lion colony and enjoyed the coastal scenery and sea birds.

The tour ended with a crap visit to an 'interpretation centre' in the town of Puerto Baquerizo Moreno - a visitor centre with tired displays about tectonic plates, lava, erosion etc. What a complete yawn. I didn't come to learn, I came to see the animals. Thankfully the preceding days had already provided a fantastic experience, and we still had a week on San Cristóbal island ahead of us.

We commenced our post-cruise days with a visit to the hinterland of San Cristóbal to see giant tortoises. They are just incredible. It seems odd to describe them as graceful when they are so laboured in their movement, but their purposeful lumbering is just that. They stumble, they slip, they crash through brush and branches, but all with a resolute calm. Their jaws roll in an exaggerated chew, like their mouths are filled with tobacco leaves. They extend and bend their necks to look you in the eye. And they chew again. If startled or anxious, they recoil their heads deep under the protection of their huge thick shells, folding their front legs in front as a further barrier. But their demeanour barely changes; they retain the same weary interest in their surroundings. They make you want to pull up a seat and just watch them for hours.

Thankfully we managed to tear ourselves away from the tortoises and instead did some swimming and snorkeling around San Cristóbal. I say 'thankfully' because it was such a magical experience. We swam with sea-lions - literally nose to nose with one young fella. He was so playful and fun. In addition, we snorkeled so close to two large turtles (about a metre in length) that I had to paddle vigorously to avoid hitting them.

This seems like it could be a never-ending blog entry; every time I think I'm finished, something even more exciting happens. It feels like it could go on for weeks like this.

Bananas, beach and our poor pooch

After the appalling wasteland that is Lima, we took a two day bus ride to Guayaquil, Ecuador. Entering Ecuador was like entering one big banana plantation. In the small pocket of land near the road we passed enough banana trees to produce truckloads of exports. Containership loads. Several loads, or several ships. There are just extensive plantations as far as you can see in all directions, each tree cowed under the weight of massive bunches of green and yellowing fruits. I could have made one hell of a smoothie.

Guayaquil's the commercial centre of Ecuador, and I'd be willing to bet that its port sees its fair share of bananas. It's apparently a very dangerous city in most areas, with increased police presence improving things in the more touristy locales. Outside of these areas, petty theft and 'express kidnappings' (quick drive to the ATM to withdraw dosh) are relatively common day and night. We stuck largely to the Malecon (river promenade) and CBD areas and consciously didn't carry anything of value. We didn't have any problems.

After a few days relaxing in Guayaquil, we headed up the coast to Montañita. We both love the sea and beaches; they have an appealing calm and rhythm about them. Even the street dogs take it easy at the beach. We just chilled out for a few days amongst the usual array of surfy dudes, yoga girls and soap-dodging jewellery makers selling the kind of friendship bracelet a 12 year-old could whip up, not to mention the grubby buskers with ukuleles and wooden box drums playing the same four tunes on repeat. (The word 'tune' is used in an act of extreme generosity on my part). Not quite as bad as the appalling hippies who wanted money for waving flags and juggling badly in Peru.

Despite my cynicism, it was quite nice to escape from South America for a few days and just be in Internationalville. We wandered the beach, hung out with homeless pooches and kicked about in international style restaurants.

Sadly we also learnt in Montañita that our own lovely old pooch, Tide Sizzles has died. She had been showing signs of aging for a couple of years, so in that respect her death wasn't completely unexpected. But the last time we went to the vet they told us she might last another few years. Unfortunately it wasn't to be.

She had a great last couple of months with a friend who cared for her incredibly well. She retained a good appetite and interest in walks right to the end, so wasn't suffering.  She was last seen staring at a nearby pigeon, no doubt mentally reliving her youth when she loved chasing birds. Not long after she was found dead in the garden, looking like she was asleep. It's really sad that she's gone, but I can't think of a better way for her to go. Wish I could have given her a big hug and a kiss before she went though.

Lima - why bother?

I reckon that title pretty much sums up Lima, so perhaps I'll just blog the shit out of something else.

Drugs in cycling... it's all just blown up. Several former teammates of Lance Armstrong have confessed to doping and implicated Lance as the doping ringleader. You can't put all those allegations back in a box, and Armstrong's decision not to defend himself against the charges means they can certainly never be disproved. That basically means that the allegations are as good as fact in the public domain. I'm wondering what it might mean for professional cycling.

The allegations largely relate to cyclists who have retired, are retiring or have already admitted doping. The point, of course, is that all this scandal is doing is damaging the reputation of former cyclists while leaving open the (remote) possibility that the current pros are largely racing clean. I can't see how that's going to change anything.

We're supposed to believe that the current pros aren't doping because stage times are slower than years in which Armstrong was winning. That seems to ignore the fact that riders are still regularly testing positive. Just because it's not the high profile riders returning positive tests (with the exception of Contador) doesn't mean they aren't doping. In fact, you'd think it makes it more likely that lots of top riders are on something more than Gatorade - lesser riders are doping but still performing at a lower level than the top guys?

It's hard watching pro cycling in that context. Any time a new guy wins a stage or challenges for overall victories, the first thought is to wonder if they're doping. And when a whole team dominates like HTC in 2010/11 or Sky in 2012, you just wonder...

The weird thing is that the doping doesn't put me or millions of others off watching. There's some human desire to want to believe. We want the best athletes to rise above the cheats and restore faith in great athleticism, training and mental strength. And every time one of them falls, we just want the next guy to rise above it all.

It's hard to accept that your favourite riders are cheating. I've been betrayed by Vinokourov and Ullrich, just like millions of others have been let down by Armstrong and Contador (surely nobody believes the contaminated steak story?). I just hope that Evans will always remain a true example of a clean rider, because I'm pretty sure that all the other top guys will be busted before too long. Does anyone think Wiggins and Froome are clean?

Nasca Lines

Nasca's a bit of a hole really. It's small and a bit grubby. The Incas found it to be a bit of a bore too, apparently, so amused themselves by drawing big pictures in the desert.

We splashed out on a flight over the Nasca lines because that's the best way to get a good view and see a large number of figures. They're really cool. I was surprised at how visible and distinct the figures are.

I guess the coolest thing about them is the mystery. Why are they there? What do they mean? I wouldn't dare speculate, but I like the idea of ancient aliens best. Georgio's show is incredibly reliable and factual. http://www.facebook.com/ancientalienstheseries

Arequipa

I am overwhelmed by how beautiful Arequipa is. I am tempted to say that it's indescribable, but that would make it a pretty short post.

The main reason that tourists visit Arequipa is because it's the so-called gateway to the Colca Canyon where you can see condors in flight (more below). But the city itself is worth the trip to South America. It's that good.

The central city is a triumph of Spanish colonial architecture. If I was Spanish, I'd buy myself a big trumpet and march around town singing 'yay us, look at our fancy buildings'. The main square is surrounded on three sides by beautiful covered archways supported by countless pillars. (That's not quite true - I could count them. The number is definitely finite, and is probably less than a hundred. I could probably count that high in Spanish if I had some thinking time. It would have been far more accurate to have written that the square was surrounded by a finite and eminently countable number of pillars. That's still quite impressive). On the fourth side - or is it the first side? - stands a magnificent cathedral built of a pale grey volcanic rock. It is such a grand building that it could easily be a palace or, um... something like a palace.

We went and had a wander inside the cathedral. It was undergoing some restoration, so wasn't presented at its best, but it was still mighty impressive. We were lucky enough to be there while the choir was practicing. It made the atmosphere almost, well, religious. It was pretty cool.

But I haven't even got to the best bit yet - the incredible Santa Catalina monastery. The monastery has been open to the public since the 1970s. It was founded in the 1500s and has had nuns living there continuously ever since. They have retreated to a small section of the complex to allow visitors into the rest.

The buildings have been restored and are in excellent condition. They form part of a massive two hectare complex of chapels, prayer rooms, courtyards, orchards/groves, kitchens, washrooms and sleeping chambers. We visited in the late evening when the whole monastery was lit solely by candles and gas lamps. It was absolutely spectacular. We loved it so much that we braved the $15 entrance fee a second time a couple of days later. Go there.

While in Arequipa, we also went to see the Colca Canyon and the condors. We took an overnight tour into the canyon, which allowed us the luxury of spying on the condors both in the early evening and the following morning. They're massive birds and look amazing in flight. We also saw llamas, alpacas, vicuñas and lots of other fancy animals. The scenery was amazing too. The canyon is twice as deep as the Grand Canyon, the surrounding mountains are beautiful, and the whole valley is filled with Incan and pre-Incan ruins and terraced hillsides.

The area is a complete blast. We loved it.

Off to Nasca next.