The past week in California (Los Angeles & Vegas - but that's a story for another time...) has been an experience in its own right, but it's also been a big reminder of everything we'd left behind during our month in South America.

The North and South continents of America couldn't look, taste or sound more different...

For a start, 90% of the buildings in South America seem to be half-built; whereas in LA, not only are they vast and perfectly finished, but they all come with icing and a cherry on top (nowhere more so than the ridiculously luxurious Beverly Hills)! In Bolivia, we lasted for days on Pringles for breakfast, lunch and dinner; in LA, every 50 feet there's a different fast food restaurant luring you inside with its big, bold advertising. The sad sight of fields filled with litter tainted the outskirts and cities of Bolivia; compared to a strict street cleaning rota in LA that keeps things spick and span. And finally, the dogs! Every country we visited in South America was teeming with huge, stray dogs that rule the roost (and even get special treatment from the government in Chile if they're ever sick or injured!?), whilst everyone knows the type of dogs that prevail in Cali-forn-i-a; beefy Boxers and yappy handbag dogs are the most common canines on proud display.

But the incredible contrast between South America and home is exactly why we chose to travel. And the experience and adventure we had was well worth every bump and hardship along the way.

It all started in Argentina (way back when in early February) and the only way we could get across four vast countries in four short weeks was to join an organised tour and let them lead the way. So, after five days on our own in Buenos Aires sampling steak, vino and tango in the pseudo-'European' city, we nervously met up with our new family for the month in an over-heated hotel lobby - 3 Brits (us two and Sir Sammo Wicko), 3 Canadians (Kathleen, Wayne & Jeanny), 2 Kiwis (the honeymooners, Matt & Paula), 2 Japanese (The Narumis), 1 Italian (Andrea) and our all-American tour guide (John, he's from Atlanta don't you know).

Our lasting memory of Argentina, beyond Buenos Aires, was the border-crossing into Chile and the first flavours of altitude sickness as we hit 4200m. The effects were sudden, hard-hitting and painful. So on arrival in San Pedro de Atacama, our one brief but brilliant stop in Chile, we hot-footed to the local pharmacy and got ourselves some pills. On reading the smallprint we discovered some wacky side effects; fizzy drinks tasting flat (immediately taking our lifelong enjoyment out of Coke!), pins & needles in the fingers and most concerningly for Ben and his efficient bladder(!), an increased need to visit the little boys' room...

We also got our first experience of the rainy season with impressive thunderstorms, lightening and heavy downpours creating flash floods in the sandy streets. But the sun came out just in time for one of our South American highlights: sandboarding followed by sunset and rainbows in Death Valley.

Enter Bolivia.

From the sublime to the ridiculous, Bolivia could easily warrant a blog entry all on its own as it was a country like we'd never seen before, but in the interests of our readers we'll try not to waffle, so to keep it short & sweet we spent the next leg of the trip:

1. Bouncing along eery landscapes with no roads in the back of 4x4 vehicles, travelling from snow-capped mountains, to flamingo-filled lagoons, to red-stone rock formations, to high altitude (volcanic) hot springs, to flooded acres of the iconic salt flat deserts, to stone-walled shacks they call hostels in the middle of nowhere. Bolivia at its most bleak and possibly its most beautiful.
2. Panting up and down the streets of the highest city in the world (Potosi, 4070m), dodging soap spray, silly string and water bombs being launched at us by local kids in celebration of Carnaval (and watching the regression of most of our group back to their 8yr old school kid-selves in retaliation!).
3. Setting the benchmark for the world's most arduous night bus journey; getting stuck on the top of a snow-capped mountain for 5hrs in the early-morning pitch black, before the driver decided to risk the windy, icy roads and go for it anyway; surviving barnyard-like snoaring; no functioning toilet; subsequent rock stops in the pitch black and snow; the bus driving off while passengers were still relieving themselves; and after all that, being thrown off the bus and stranded 20km from our destination after the driver had had enough of crawling barely 1km in 2hrs due to the heavy city traffic. All of which turned a quoted 9hr journey into an 18hr slog!

It's at times like these when you're really grateful you've got a group and a guide, and ours pulled us through (safely) in style.

Our last stop in Bolivia was La Paz and our first sight of the city was pressed up against the glass of the taxi we had to jump in following the sudden bus exit. All twelve of us, plus luggage, squeezed inside, perching on each other's laps. How very apt.

From the top of the hill, La Paz appears as a sprawling mess of buildings piled on top of one another, squashed into a basin-like valley too small for the city growth that's happened. But the snowy mountains that frame the view make it an incredibly impressive sight, depsite the mayhem.

Walking around the city feels just as hectic, with steep alley streets lined with so-called witches markets (nowadays just historical tourist attractions), small cafes and street traders of every description.

Our saving grace was finding our own perfect haven, some calm amidst the craziness, in a traditional English public house filled with delicious pub grub. You didn't need to come from the UK to appreciate this slice of Western civilisation; the Kiwis, Canadians, Italians et al amongst us truly craved a taste of home. We proudly ate curries, pies, bangers & mash and cauliflour cheese. We bonded over beers, deep fried Mars bars(!) and the sounds of Oasis. And we didn't say no to the free tequila shots...

To be continued...