The breakfast is included in the hostel price. It is nothing special just bread that you can toast and some fruit if you can get there early enough. The hostel seems to be full of German women so we had zero chance of getting there soon enough - and todays earlier than usual arrival at breakfast confirmed this.

Today we were going down to the poor old part of town that attracts the tourists with it's bright coloured houses. We do things as cheap as possible; we were told it wasn't safe during the day and then with the next breath told that they do tours there. So we had a choice of being robbed by the hostel or a small chance of being robbed by the more needy local people. We chose the latter.

The area felt as edgy as Yorkshire, so I was on my guard. The main culprits were uneven pavements and dog dirt. As soon as we saw the first coach we knew we were close. We turned a corner and like 'Wizard of Oz' everything suddenly burst into colour. Pretty much everything that is stationary is painted in the most vivid colours known to man. If a wall didn't have a window then one was added with some washing hanging in it to give it that authentic look for the tourists.

In case there was any doubts on which windows or balconies to aim the camera at, dressed dummies were positioned at key 'photogenic' spots. All the tourist had to do was separate the dead dummies from the living. Don't get me wrong it was all good fun, and I took some pictures but interestingly not in the same directions as everyone else.

The bright area is just a triangle of streets that you could walk around in five minutes. What stops you are the number of tourists that are crawling everywhere and choking the place with alfresco dining. We couldn't buy anything even if we wanted to - we gave the last of our money to the hostel and hadn't seen a working bank since.

We didn't stay long, we headed over to San Telmo area. The same coaches were parked up there also, but this time the tourists had something more authentic to look at. A nice twin spired Cathedral and an old jail. I didn't see anyone however interested in taking pictures of those when there were masses of stalls selling things and cafes to sit in. We joined them in that also, Liz was on her never ending quest for the perfect present and I was taking secret pictures of tourists. Hard core tourists are a real novelty, as much as a lion or hippo. So we were both very happy, and a cafe stop at a good camera shooting spot made it an excellent day.

We left that area coming up to dinner time. We went past a few inviting cafe/pubs that I started to feel myself being pulled towards. Liz however did an excellent job of planning her mystery tour, she was taking me to an English pub. Irish/English pubs abroad are never that authentic however the Gibralter was. Dark wood panelling, leather chairs and probally the best ale I have had in living memory (including the mighty Fleece Inn back home). Normally you pay heavily for this but the prices were as appealing as the 6% prooth Amber ale that I was drinking. A switch to some Stout later confirmed that it was no fluke, it was little Blighty. Some pasty faced Brits with big beer bellies completed the illusion.

Liz couldn't believe her little eyes - there was draught Cider. It was initially off but she had a taster and an excellent wine instead. For the second round I had the priviledge of bringing her a pint of the first draught Cider in a year. The illusion faided a bit when we had a gorgous Thai curry (pub food is normally hit or mostly miss).

With stomachs full of good food and ale we headed back to the hostel with a hearty spring in our step. I couldn't help but remember Singapore 10 years ago, right at the end of our first world trip. The same happened here, there was an English pub selling beer and chips with tomato sauce. It cost us a small fortune to have them then but we couldn't resist.