Samaipata - Sucre - Tarabuco: 20/10 - 31/10

While waiting for my overnight bus to Sucre on the highway in Samai I was accosted by a village person - a village idiot, in fact. He was an overly chatty young man who was carrying his 3 fighting roosters with him back to Valle Grande and was assisted by a smiling but more sedate boy in this process. He talked at me in some kind of language that mildly resembled Castellano. I have taken the liberty of translating it fairly literally into English.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

`Che was a really good man, he was a doctor, he helped everyone all the time because he was a doctor, he helped everyone`

me, thinking but not saying: `Yeah, except for the Nazi-style death camps in Cuba`

Later... - `Cannabis in Australia?`

me:`Yes`

`You do it?`

me:`No, I don`t like it`

`I do, because Im in pain all the time and I can`t eat properly` Lifts his shirt to reveal some kind of football lodged underneath his skin where his stomach should be. He makes me touch it.

`See? It`s hard, isn`t it`

me:`Yes, it`s hard`

Later... - `Fine chickens in Australia?`

me:`What?`

`What are the fine chickens like in Australia?`

me:`I don`t know`

him, surprised:`You`ve never seen them?!`

me:`No`

He lifts up a bound rooster, displays his spur and then makes me touch his cock`This chicken killed another chicken. Yeah, it killed it. Really killed that other chicken. Here, touch it`

me:`Yes, its sharp`
-----------------------------------------

When out of divine intervention the bus came I thanked whatever Chrisitian gods I still believed in and boarded, but the bus gimps were either lazy or wankers, so made me lug my big backpack up next to me in the bus aisle - there were no toilet stops all night on the dusty and hot journey. Bolivia was back! Despite these negative things, the actual journey that I`d recalled as being so dangerous and uncomfortable was not so - it was far worse.

I met Sergio from Spain sitting next to me and managed to doze a few hours before we arrived in Sucre and I transferred to my HI hostel again. There I ran into Jere and Jenni - yay! We had breakfast together and then caught up with Siobhan and Jules - yay! They showed me through a cosy but very cute apartment they were renting for the week. Nice. That evening at their hostel we all sat around a fire in a nice courtyard along with James and Belle from Melbourne, Mez (Isabel) of Andoriña fame and lots of other nice folk drinking red and having fine conversations. We had bought and prepared some pizza ingredients thinking that we`d be making our own at some stage, but before long someone circulated the space handing out gourmet pizza delight! Awwwwesome crispy thin crust and yummy fresh sauce; great ingredients. OK, thanks then, I guess we`ll get onto making our own in a little bit. But no, more pizza came pretty much every 20 min and we were treated to this great service for a few hours until we were all satisfied! Incredible! The head chef was Coralie, daughter of a French pizza maker. Thanks to Roxan the hostel manager and Coralie and your assistants - great night.

The weather in Sucre is great - cool in the evenings but (at the moment anyway) fine and warmish during the day. Myself, the Finish and the Aussies set about indulging ourselves in the foodiness of Sucre - I particularly loved the salteñas while myself and the other Aussies hammered the Para Ti chocolate cafe a few times. It turns out Jere used to be a tech-house DJ also - he`d recently sold his equipment and 400 pieces of vinyl but kept the excellent Sennheiser headphones - I asked for a little borrow of them to indulge in the ultimate sonic bliss... OMG! I`d actually love to try them with some higher quality sound equipment too... *goes off into a romantic fantasy of a date, just the headphones and myself (and possibly taking things a little further)*

Siobhan joined myself and Kirsty from Melbourne, Mario from Dublin and Heather from London for a nice of nightness and fresh food at the HI hostel. The next morning Kirsty decided to try the local delicacy, food-dyed pink alcoholic chica, which scored almost as high on the make-you-vomit scale as San Pedro. The Finish and I soon moved down to Wasi Masi though to make one big happy family and together with Jeremy from Melbourne we celebrated Jenni´s birthday in (drunk) style with a delicious home-made secret-recipe apple crumble, then later lasagna and Andean licores like coca shots and maca licor and OJ. Before we hit the town though I needed to rehydrate quickly - search for receptacle, ok, this red wine-residue cup looks fine, fill it up and scull away. I had drunk half a glass of the detergent water before I realised that it was so, the result being about an hour of burning throat and cheeks, a sore stomach and consistent spitting and coughing. Recommended.

The fine and dandy days in Sucre were lovely indeed - picnics in the park, double espressos at Florin (including a grand morning in the sunny courtyard with Jere´s headphones), great Chinese stir-fries and of course more salteñas and chocolate. We observed a night of celebrations leading into the Day of the Dead holiday/piss-up with tradicional/Spanish dancer and cool costumes. Amsterdam Marathon veteran Martin and I jogged up a local Jesus mountain three days in a row, including many large steep steps. These were particularly fun on the rock-hopping and at times triple-jumping descent. I didn´t run all the way but kept a good pace anyways. I thought it might start to get easier by the third day but apparently that´s not the way it works - my legs and hips weren´t particularly happy for a following time period. SIobhan and I later went up to that same hill to find the two blossomming wattles there and be reminded of back home - ahhh, I was ready to go home :)

On the Sunday morning of my departure us Australians and the Finish bus-connected it to Tarabuco, a place that reminded me a little of Pisac in how it explodes with tourists on a Sunday morning all searching and buying from the tacky (my personal opinion) souvenir stalls. I went with the intention of ruthlessly doing this myself but failed... the dishonesty and poor quality and general consumerism of it all getting to me and eventually i just gave up. We reconvened for the return trip to Sucre, which I knew was the first of a long segmented journey that would end in Buenos Aires...

Samaipata: 15/10 - 20/10

After the departure of the ladies I continued to do not much, spending way too much at the internet cafe, stretching in the afternoons, cooking at home and laughing with the French folk. Meeting all the different folk coming through Jardin and Samaipata I was again reinforced with the idea that, away from the limited gringo trail, Bolivia attracts adventurous and long-term travellers, often interested in trekking and nature. In any case you have to be adventurous to even survive here for any period of time, I think. In discussing the culture of the Bolivian people with Jonah, he (of his own accord) also offered the opinion that they were like children - this made me feel a little better for my many previous criticisms of them.

From afar my long, lost Thiess friend Shea and I made contact - unfortunately in the end we weren`t able to see each other face-to-face pero de todas maneras buen viaje, amigo! With Jere and Jenni I went to El Fuerte, the highly promoted pre-Inca/Inca ruins carved into a gigantic rock at the top of a mountain close by to Samai. Unfortunately we visited on the foggiest day since I`d been there - as such our vistas were very restricted and along with not being allowed to get close to the rock itself made for a bit of a lack-lustre experience. A little frustated with the lack of good photo opportunities I jumped the fence for about 1 minute to take a couple of close-ups, then was promptly reproached by an unhappy guardy-type person - a $US300 fine apparently! Whoopseys! Lo siento mucho, mil disculpes, señor. * As he walks away `Suck my balls`*

That evening we took a delicious meal at the Latina Cafe with Martin and Marieke, who`d just cut short their intended 1 year volunteer stay at a bar in Samai and were joining the Finish the next day to amble for a few days through Che Guevara-land and the pretty mountain landscapes to Sucre. After finding out the best route to Argentina is through Sucre and with myself running short of readies I decided to cut short my own stay in Samai to join Siobhan and Jules and the others in the white city. It would mean having to travel the world`s worst bus trip again, but hopefully I would live to tell the next tale.

My afternoon stretching/yoga/random exercise sessions were becoming popular with the youth of El Jardin - at times I was leading a group of 8 or so kids all imitating and playing and running around like kids. Sandrine and I intercambioed language lessons - I took my first ever hour of training in French and she some simple past tense in Spanish. On the Wednesday night I said goodbye to all at the Jardin - thanks for making my stay so peaceful and pleasant to all who stayed there with me and to Yan, Candi and the employees too :) Abraaazos, y un besitito x

La Florida - San Ignacio de Velasco - Santa Cruz - Samaipata: 03/10 - 14/10

Back at La Florida we took breakfast then all piled into some canoes to paddle down the wide Paragua River in search of danger. Instead we found many caimans (mostly small ones), forest burnt for livestock fodder, tall riverine rainforest dominated by strangler figs, lots of different birds and their crazy calls, piranha for lunch and some curious river otters… cool! I’d always wanted to see them! Back at the town our hosts had cleaned and cooked the fish they caught and we dined together for the last time. Later we washed at the unfortunately rubbished river bank, then Chris, Jules and Siobhan joined into a kids soccer match and I got a few kids started on careers in hacky-sack – they were naturals! Our dinner was delicious that night as we held the obligatory alternative energy/child sex abuse/conspiracy theory conversation.

The bus driver wanted to get to San Ignacio early on the Monday, so as such we were packed, breakfasted and on our way before we knew it the next morning. And so to say goodbye to La Florida… a true community. It was great to see these people living and working contentedly together, accommodating us tourists with grace and not competing with each other as is such the case in a lot of the world. Of course it’s not a perfect place, but for me I really felt like I spent my money and energy well coming here, not just to see the beauty of the park but to support genuinely community-based tourism, like I’d also felt in my Amazon canoe tour in Pacaya-Samaria in Peru. Thanks Florida.

The rains had cleared the air of smoke and we enjoyed a faster, cooler and more comfortable ride back to San Ignacio. We arrived with a few hours to spare before the night bus to Santa Cruz and as such shared some beers, laughs and photos at a restuarant on the plaza with Chris and his lovely wife and two kids - Ive now met several families travelling through Bolivia, very admirable I think. Farewell guys, and thanks so much Chris for the great fun in the park.

The bus journey back to Santa Cruz was of course a nightmare - Kaspar jousted with a lady for room behind us while I struggled not to kick the kid in the aisle next to me as we battled the horrible roads, had the usual UnBoliviable breakdown and bush-mechanic repair job and tried not to think about the rumours of yet another roadblock. Santa Cruz provided a measure of relief in the form of easy consumption for me like double cappuchinos, salteñas and ice-cream. We said goodbye to Kaspar and Bert, heading in opposite directions. Great to meet you Kaspar, some excellent moments and thanks so much for the good times, Bert, NKM probably wouldn`t have happened without you! ()

Julia stayed on in SC for a night but Siobhan and I wanted to finish the travel in one foul swoop, so we found ourselves a shared taxi and hit the road for Samaipata, sharing Ipods on the way. Very travel-tired we were arriving at Andoriña finally. We celebrated with a yummy red, delicious meal and ... real almonds and cashews!! Back at the hostel we both finally got a great night`s sleep. Phew!

The next day we made some changements for accomodation to El Jardin, a peaceful permacultury campìng/hostel with cool earth-dome buildings and fruit trees in a sheltered valley - very nice! There we ran into 6ft, blond and beautiful Carla from New Zealand whom Siobhan and Jules knew from their days together in Paraguay. During our lunch in the plaza Jules arrived from Santa Cruz and then we all headed back to Jardin. The next few days/milennia for me consisted mostly of doing nothing, cooking great food in our excellent kitchen, laughing, listening to music, playing 500 while it rained outside, poncing about the village, drinking coffee, stretching, sunbaking, drinking and sleeping. Very nice indeed. The girls went to Tai Chi mornings and evenings while the Aussies also fit in a couple hours Spanish lessons every day - busy life! It must be mentioned that I managed to select the worst wine ever (complete bad vinegar) - $3 badly-spent! At one stage Siobhan requested to listen to my `East`CD, then kindly offered up one of the buds of her earphones to share listenings. I, however, was a little shocked `It`s not Kylie Minogue!` I rebuffed. And from then on the act of sharing an earphone with a friend has been known as `to Kylie Minogue`. One evening we returned to Andoriña and with new volunteer Rich from Angleland watched the Irish musical `Once` - I`ve now seen it twice.

Siobhan and I made it up to a pleasant river walk, but being 4pm and shady we weren`t courageous enough to swim in the man-made pool. As we chilled on the rocks chatting we saw many different types of birds. Carla soon enough continued her travels and left us to hit Santa Cruz, bye Carls!!! Ping, Jules, Siobhan and I visited the animal refuge/zoo just out of town where there were parrots, macaws, amorous and jealous monkeys, a beautiful and majestic eagle, little toucans, an agouti, a rare Geoffrey`s Cat and many other crazy-arsed animals. It wasn`t too zoo-like either, except for the birds. A female black SPider monkey walked straight up to me and climbed aboard using her 4-fingered hands. She then hooked my hand with her incredibly strong tail and dragged me to an elevated tap so I could let out some water for her to drink - heh heh :) So Cute. A female red howler monkey attached herself to Julia also, but was more sedate, instead burying her head into Jules` bosom for several minutes at a time (don`t blame her, really).

My new friend stayed clambering over me for the next 1/2 hour while we explored the rest of the zoo including super-cute collared peccaries and nit-picking capuchin monkeys. We were given a tour and in-depth life story of many of the animals by Stef, a German volunteer well at home amongst the animals who`d come intending to stay 1 month and instead staying 3. Many of the animals had been abandoned or injured and as such were brought in to be cared for.

My time at Samaipata and El Jardin involved a lot of meeting some rather fine folk indeed. Rosario and Martin from La Plata, Argentina; Andres from Chile; Mika from Belgium; Yan and Candi the relaxed owners and their children; Yannic, Sandrine and their 3 young children from Reunion Island near Madagascar; Eric, Vanessa and their two children from Nantes in France; Olaf and Fabiana from Argentina/Holland and their 3 lovely daughters; Ping from San Franscisco; Charlotte and Olivier from France; Franco, Melanie and Valerie from guess where, France; Santiago from Colombia and Marieke and Martin from Holland; Jere and Jenni from Finland and Jonah from Summer Heights High/France.

With all the kids and Frenchness about the Jardin things took on a decided peaceful and family atmosphere - relaxed dinners, cards and chatting into the night. But after a week and a half, including 3 days of "missing" buses, Siobhan and Julia finally caught one to Sucre. We`d had a great time together, such pleasant stress-free days and easy laughter - no, thank YOU, Rex & Hools, you made it fun :) () xx

Noel Kempff Mercado National Park: 27/09 - 03/10

We soon became aware of the reason for the `10th wheel` (the extra guy on the ute) - not long after signing in at the park headquarters we came to a river, where the means of crossing was a mobile pontoon moveable by heavy ropes. Here you would definitely need two peoples to execute this tricky crossing. Chris, to be perfectly honest I found him quite a shy and introverted chap, jumped straight into the deep river to retrieve the pontoon and soon we had crossed the vehicle to the other side using planks to get on/off the pontoon - a bit scary but `off-the-beaten-track` was defintely what we were after.

Bert, myself and the guides/10th wheel all rode in the tray - I preferred standing and as such received some whips and cuts, all which helped to make me more of a man. We passed Los Fierros where we thought we would`ve been camping but continued on through a large termite savannah to eventually return to the jungle - we`d been driven all the way to the base of La Meseta, an immense plateau of 800m elevation jutting out like a large lip above the rainforest. On the way we spotted brush turkey-type birds, black with red and white feathers.

But our campsite creek was effectively dry - and the guides, who work as a community, didn`t know about it? They told us they hadn`t been in the park for a few months but what about the other guides? Surely someone must have known or predicted this? The guides had so far not communicated about much at all in a typically Bolivian fashion. The bees started to gather and sting - never incidentally but often enough anyways. Anyways, after I forced everyone to take a lunch break the rest of the group, led by Guido, set off without me. Hmmm... not impressed so far.

We walked for a few hours through the rainforest. It was beautiful - huge trees, an amazing array of plant, insect and birdlife and towards the end some large black spider monkeys. I also took note of an insect that sounded uncannily like a computer sound effect changing pitch - kind of supercool, that was. We arrived at our picturesque and peaceful campsite where only a trickle of water supplied us for the night. The sandflies and bees soon found us there also though - the flies pushing aggressively for our eyes, ears, mouth and nose. Macaws, frogs, a night rat and a well-camouflaged gecko all visited us there that night and the next morning. Our dinner that evening was courtesy of the guides - `Chancho de Monte`, or peccary, or bushmeat. Great. That night was one of the worst nights of my life as far as sleep went - the temperature would not have dropped below 25 degrees all night - soooo freakin hot!

We arose to breakfast early and prepare for the ascent of La Meseta - I was again (without words) hurried along by the impatient Guido. We set off out of the rainforest into a `transition` ecosystem, an area where there is often the most biodiversity. And there there certainly was - an amazing array of flora with quite distinct habits, many different birds and finally, after a long slow ascent a pair of cheeky lizards. Julia struggled a little with the ascent but did well to make the top. From our vantage-point we saw the remarkable site of the spurs of La Meseta jutting out into cliffs dropping into the basin of jungle.

La Meseta is mostly a giant grassland plain with occasional small trees and many termite mounds. Where the drainage lines are outcrops of palm jungle and small pockets of rainforest are present and crazy rock outcrops are dotted across the savannah also. With the sun`s strength dissipated by the smoke we journeyed in relatively cool conditions across the plain, following one of the many gigantic ant trails up and down the gentle slopes. We had arrived at Fangorn Forest, a wall of trees rising out of the flat plain some 20 metres high. Just inside we found the campsite, set camp and welcomed the latest (and greatest) of the bee clan to our bosoms.

After chilling out and lunch we set off for La Piscina, a natural pool a few kilometers away. On the way Guido expounded on the murder of the famous Bolivian biologist Noel Kempff Mercado, who along with a few other scientists and locals had landed themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time – all (including Noel) but one were murdered by cocaine producers/traffickers, the one survivor escaping into the wilderness shot through the leg. Apparently during the 5-year reign of cocaine production the park was producing and distributing some 300kg a week of pure… We passed a plane wreck and some drug paraphernalia to arrive at the pool. Absolutely stunning, a small creek feeding the pristine tree-lined pond, a perfect size, depth and temperatura for swimming. After some minutes frolicking in the water I discovered there were some happy fish there, who would occasionally take a little bite on one’s body just for fun. This was amusing at first; then a sing-song thought came to me ‘ohwoaohhh, the nips are getting’ bigger…’ – which made me think of my own nips and how it might’ve felt to have them chomped on. Of Course it was no sooner that had I thought this that I received a sharp love bite on my left raisin, ‘Fruit!’ I exclaimed with fervor, wriggled and turned a little, then got the same again on my right raisin! WTF? At least a nice romantic dinner first, please!

On the journey back to camp we disturbed an endangered gama, or white-tailed deer – a female. That evening after more peccary and fried yucca flour and vegetables we finally had a productive discussion with Guido and Herman about what we could and wanted to do for the week – we came to an agreeable plan and retired for the night content.

The night sounds of the forest were awesome and bizarre – I got a great night’s sleep as it was a lot cooler, rose early to exercise, walk past a hive of large wasps and enjoy the fresh morning Meseta. Extraordinary. Then as I stood observing the busy wasps they decided I was not a friendly and started to bombard me psychoticqly – I turned and ran through the forest for the safety of my bees; they’d save me. We were to stay again in the forest that evening, so after informing the guides of our intentions we all (except Chris) drank bitter green San Pedro (thanks to Bert who provided for us all :) and headed back towards La Piscina. Kaspar and I discussed electronic music, we lost the path but made our own and then I realized I’d brought the milk and sugar… ohh, Tris, why’d you bring the milk and sugar for? I.t waz sLow, waºrm AEnd yppirt.

At the pool the lives of San Pedro and the incredible wilderness that we were in converged – I realized I had seen no weeds for a long time, that the piscine was an amazing oasis and that (after a short period of adjusting to the two cups of cactus inside my belly) the cool water was our magical friend and lover. Kaspar set about founding his hidden and virtually impenetrable fortress in the scrub near the water while the rest of us dove and swam like otters – it was sooo good. The creek water feeding into the pool was warm and I drank straight from it and took a nice shower. Soon however I got a little chilly and with the fish biting I soon jumped out. As the others wandered and chatted I set myself to stretching out the mescaline and sun-baking on the warm rocks. Time dripped lazily around us – towards mid-afternoon I decided a walk was in order; I had already asked everyone if they’d wanted to go with but nada, and now I just needed to ask Kaspar:

Myself to Kaspar, sitting in his fortress hidden in the vegetation ‘ Kaspar? Im going for a walk...`

Kaspar ‘ A war? No…. ... I am no longer in a war – I have an agreement with my ants. I let them be themselves and they let me be myself. ‘

Hahahaha, very funny. It was almost too much for me and Bert. Good times. After having discussed with Kaspar the films of Jim Jarmusch and our mutual admiration of them I decided that ‘Ghost Dog’ was an appropriate avatar for him – this also went with his other nickname ‘Captain Random’. Of course with every respect to you Mr. Kaspar.

My solo walk upstream to a large patch of gallery rainforest didn’t seem to involve any human-tread path – I crossed many animal tracks and bush-bashed it a bit too. Although I felt very connected with my earth I still felt very apprehensive about the presence of snakes there, as it was a perfect day for them in perfect habitat. But I mentally spoke to the land as I crossed it; giving my respect and positive energies and `please don`t freak out, snakies`. I disturbed a pheasant-like bird and some locusts the size of my hand. Lots of birds flitted. I finally arrived at the forest and with respect took water from the pool where many other large animals obviously had too. I can’t really even describe that place – the best I can do would be to say it was like no other space Ive ever been in, and like I was the only person to have ever been there. It was a peaceful and completely wild Garden of Eden, and I felt like I was one of the only humans to have communicated with those spirits. An inexplicable experience.

I returned in good time for the team to catch up before heading back to the ranch – the bees had started to gather. On the walk back the girls and I had some very funny conversations, playing a bit of verbal racquetball on mescaline – their friend Michelle from the US also liked plants and we therefore concluded that I should punch her current co-ordinates in Bahia Negra, Paraguay into my GPS of Love as a sure-fire romantic hit. We decided we would love to be able to express ourselves as Kaspar did, which, I suggested, might involve unlearning English, learning Swiss German, then relearning English. But as Siobhan pointed out, it still wouldn’t be the same cos we’re just not Kaspar! J I again came to the conclusion that humans have invented time and as I had donned a piece of brown floral fluff as a moustache we all wondered if the father->son conversation about masturbation, girls and shaving all came at the same time?

Julia with her skills of seduction had managed to get a bee to urinate on her and so had a large liquidy blister on her leg. However I was leading the bee-sting count at 8 by this stage, not half-unexpecting to go into anaphalactic shock at any given moment. I helped as much as I was able with dinner but with luck we were lead by Chris, who was clear-headed, energetic and hungry. But he did sometimes struggle to understand the ‘Donald Duction’ Victorian accent brought by our ladies from Mexico. Kaspar spent some time in the jungle alone and returned with some simple but beautiful revelations – he was visited by a few monkeys too. A huge moth darted about and bashed into things – very big. Kaspar, Siobhan and I tripped the night fantastic and were visited by more monkey magic and a squirrelly thing. I was awake a little too late for my liking but I slept eventually.

We rose early to the realization that the bees will continue to increase in numbers the longer you stay in one place – there were thousands, and ants also. So after some hacky-sack we got the hell out of there as quickly as possible and soon emerged having survived the strangeness of Fangorn and its insects. Kaspar had expressed a wish to see our regular companions the beautiful blue macaws up close – as we left the forest two calling macaws farewelled us by circling close overhead twice and then leaving – it was magical, and Kaspar got his wish.

As we arrived at the main creek crossing we disturbed a shiny brown snake. It was the smokiest day we’d had so far, and the guides told us that the Meseta was burning; but not close enough to bother us. We detoured to a wicked set of rock protrusions which then led to a great lookout at the edge of the plateau. I was pretty tired by then, and descended back down the 800m slowly but surely, munching on coca and sugar lollies. Kaspar wasn’t feeling too well; he and his stomach had not yet reached an agreement. They weren’t our happiest moments, but luckily Julia stacked it with gusto which gave us something to laugh at and some philosophical reflection time. The walk to camp was agonizing for me as I was super-kñackered; I managed to lose but then recover my wooden spoons along the track. And, In the words of another NKM veteran, ‘at the end of the day, we’re just meat for the insects’.

I was in no mood to do much and as so retreated to my tent to rest. The guides and super-Chris dug in the creekbed for water – it was brown but drinkable and full credit to Guido and Herman for keeping the dream alive. They also came upon some fish flopping for water in diminishing pools, whacked them with machetes and fried them up for us – thanks guys! During that evening a tapir crashed its way past camp. Bert saw some monkeys in his wanderings and the guides and Chris almost stepped on a large Black Caiman, of similar skill/stamina/mana points to a Saltwater Crocodile. Bert really wanted to see a caiman and managed to convince Herman, Kaspar and myself to accompany him to try unsuccessfully to relocate it the following morning, after somehow we’d been convinced to get up well before the sun to leave ridiculously early. At this point I’d like the record to state I was the lone opposition to this plan, and not so happy to have to fight to have a coffee in the dark morning.

As we marched through the forest in the early morning a family of Black Spider Monkeys yelled at us. We were well out into the savannah by the time we had breakfast and it was great to get some good exercise before eating like I was used to. We then walked 10km or so straight straight through the grasslands to Los Fierros, where an oppressively muggy heat awaited us as did an exponentially increasing number of our favourite animals. Luckily we were staying in fly-screened cabins, which although filthy and in disrepair provided great relief from the majority of the bees. The creek, which we’d been assured would be flowing, was dry, and again the guides, Chris and Bert set about getting what mocha Monster-coloured water they could. Thanks guys. In reciprocation the rest of us cooked the meal of the trip – potato salad with quinoa and corn. Yummmm! Thunder rumbled in the distance. Later that evening Siobhan and I walked down the abandoned airstrip beside the forest, taking a machete with us in case of jaguars! Believe it or not I don’t actually have that much experience with large predatory cats nor even with the South American wilderness but I just couldn’t credit that we’d even come across a jaguar let alone one willing to attack two humans. At one stage I was staggered by an extreme pain in my eye – Siobhan looked but couldn’t find anything and the pain eventually subsided.

The rain promised by the earlier thunder came slowly that night – I was desperate to wash a little bit but also not game enough to wake myself up completely to stand in the half-rain. At sunrise though the rain intensified and I jumped out of bed to stand under the gutter and rinse off the grime that accumulates so quickly in that environment. Ahhhhh! After that I jogged in the rain with all the happily singing birds; very nice indeed. Then Herman and I organize all our containers to be filled from the rain off the gutters – later we realized a consistent black soot was in all that water. Our optimistic assessment was that it was asbestos residue, but I drank a fair bit of it anyway. If I die of cancer please sue for me – James Hardie knew!

So the rain kept on and we all stayed inside for our biscuits and cards and massages and endless cups-of-tea day. A few of us spotted the large rodents they called ‘soro’ around the camp. Despite the rain the bees were still keen to play and let us know by persistently buzzing around our verandah - Kaspar and I invested time and energy to create a contemporary dance masterpiece, which involved dramatically and wildly waving and whisking our arms while wheeling like whirling winged waifs upon leaving the bee-free cabins - we called it `Dances with Bees`. I won the prize for the largest tick and it was undecided as to the winner of the most bee stings, with Siobhan desperately trying to top my 10 by being stung 3 at a time. But I also won the encouragement award for having a §(‘!è§ tick in my eye! So that’s what stung so much! At dusk we all took a walk but didn’t spot any animals – I hadn’t brought my game face that night and decided to sit out in the dark night by myself to enjoy the delicious breeze and rich smells of the jungle. I was a very interesting thing for one particular bat and it circled me many times at point blank range; I could feel the wind from its wings very close like a mini-fan but it never once touched me.

A mouse kept chewing at my bed leg on that comparatively very cold night for which none of us were really prepared – but we survived. Our ute back to La Florida arrived very early in the morning – Im not sure if it was lost in translation but Chris told us it was because they had to transport someone else that day from La Florida but the real reason was they wanted to get to a soccer match in a nearby village; I wasn’t to be rushed though and took a leisurely extra 15 minutes to get ready. From this blog it may sound like I didn’t really care for our guides or the locals much which to be fair I didn’t at times, but after our week together we got along well and enjoyed each others company – they were honest and fair and funny; so thanks Guido and Herman!