PERU - BOLIVIA: Lake Titicaca

I'M AT: Hostal Europa, Puno, Peru, a nice place but for some reason run by sharp sharks with alcoholic faces, darkly suspicious of their guests. AND Inti Wayra, Isla del Sol, Bolivia, one of many similar no-frills hostals to which we were guided by a mahogany-skinned local lad, found at the top of eighty backbreaking Inca Steps on the South of the island.

The bus from Cuzco to Puno was taken in sunlight, but strangely enough all the nuts came out during the day. A religious nut sat at the back rattled on for a solid hour, then two young singing nuts came and blew hot air round the wagon, then the religious guy started again, a baby wailed, and lightning flashed across the landscape. It took only a couple of seconds to remember that we were shuttling across a flat plain in a large metal object, but a couple of minutes more to forget.

Puno is the folk music capital of Peru and the streets clattered with brass as gentlemen span in sharp suits, doffing their porkpie hats at the ladies. It was some student festival and crossing the crowded road was noisy, tricky, spotlight on the gringos. But we made it out, for an alpaca feast, and tired, we all fell asleep, Katha and Ela meekly hiding something dark in their room. Mark thought it a Rubber Charlie - something man-sized and inflatible, carried under plain cover, with pneumatic cock and thick fingers. The girls never did reveal what their blushes hid.

After alapaca dreams we woke for the boat, a speedy launch that cut thickly across Titicaca as our gentle guide wove stories of reed and water. The Los Uros islands are upwardly thatched from the bottom of the lake, and the reeds squeaked as we were sped across the surface. After some explanation we paused to buy some trinkets and were then paddled across the lake. We looked back to see the small boy with whom we'd been playing football fishing for his ball with a practised thrust.

Taquile is home to indigenous people, wearing long hats, knitting and weaving and smiling for the cameras. After more perusing, and a fish lunch, we walked over the ridge and down to the soft waters, where the boat came to take us back to Puno. I talked with Katha at the end of the pier.