I spend the mornings here at my own leisure, waking at around nine and then strolling the streets towards the small delicatessen I have declared my breakfast base of operations. Here I consume several cups of coffee and write in this damn journal, eat the local food and catch the odd game of football when they are broadcast on the television. The staff are all very friendly and are pleased to see me return, and I have built a good rapport with one of the waiters. Today I recognised a fellow customer dining with some friends, and it turned out that he was an English chap I had spoken with during my stay in Salento, Colombia.

I arrived in Cuzco to pouring rain and the cooler mountain air. I accidentally booked into a party hostel which I am not too happy about, as the vast majority of other guests here are a vicious herd of intolerable halfwits. I did however meet an agreeable chap from Texas in my room who had been on the same flight into Cuzco as me, and we have arranged to embark on a few excursions together.

I have completed the Laguna 69 trek from Huaraz (3,000m), a small city surrounded by the snowy peaks of the Cordillera Blanca mountain range that lies a three-hour bus journey northeast of Lima.

Today I visited Huaca Pucllana, a pre-Incan ceremonial structure built by the Lima civilization 1,500 years ago. The site springs up unexpectedly in the middle of the residential district of Miraflores, with the remains of a pyramid standing at its centre.

I landed in Lima last night to a spectacular sunset view of the Pacific Ocean. I checked into a pitiful hostel near the airport, where I was disturbed by a pair of intolerable hippies staying in my room who seemed intent on spreading the word about the wonderful hallucinogenic plants available in the Peruvian Amazon. I checked out the next morning.