Some facts...

Do you know that for many people the main reason to visit Peru (or indeed South America) is to see Machu Picchu?

Do you know that Machu Picchu means big hill?

Do you know that on the train from Cusco to Machu Picchu (which was well worth the $25 purely for the astounding views en-route) there's a plaque telling you that the railway line was established in 1905? And the first person who can email me and tell me why that's so very odd will find a bottle of Peru's finest Pisco whizzing its way to them.

Do you know that Machu Picchu is falling down at 1cm per month facing the possibility of a huge landslide in not too many years to come?

And, do you know that when I went to Machu Picchu (not via the Inca Trail as I had hoped) it absolutely pissed down with rain and I could hardly see a thing, and let's not mention the fact that it was also freezing cold, very very muddy, the steep stone steps were letheal and the tourists were still flocking by their hundreds so the main site was awash with bright yellow, pink and green rain ponchos. But hey even with all of that against it, you can't knock the place - it was astounding to experience and the ruins gave off an air of mystery which makes you stand there with your mouth wide open in awe and disbelief when you try to grasp how the lost city was put together all those many thousands of years ago and then lost amongst the big hill for an even longer amount of time.

So the great ruins over and back to Cusco for a couple more nights one of which included Emma's 19th birthday party which was a wicked night of drunken debauchy and dancing to bad music. Totally wrecked we left Cusco last Friday (after a fried egg sarnie and luxury massage I might add) and made our way to The White City aka the colonial city of Arequipa which sits at the foot of a perfect cone-shaped volcano called El Misti and is home to what I now think is the most beautiful plaza in South America (so step aside Cusco). The reason though to be in Arequipa was not to see the volcano or the plaza but to get out to the Canon del Colca (or the Coca Cola Canyon as I like to call it). And as (almost) the world's deepest canyon at 3191 metres it was rightly magnificent. We spent two days there in sublime sunshine, stayed in a glorious hotel in a tiny village in a great valley where the view from my bedroom window was of snow-topped mountains, visited ancient little villages and tombs, saw some amazing wildlife of which the most beautiful must have been the huge and graceful Condors that nest at the canyon (and we spent at least two hours viewing these magnificent creatures whilst at the same time trying to take a half decent photo), we did some great walks and enjoyed some great local entertainment. In fact the only thing that I did not like was when some members of the group opted for Cuy Chactado for dinner - for those not in the know that a squashed grilled guinea pig complete with eyes, teeth and claws (my veggie instincts kicked in!!).

So, right now, you find me in Nazca famous for the Nazca Lines which I took a flight over this morning, but hey as I've probably gone on far too long about MP and CCC I'll tell you all about that another time and bid you all Allin Tutu (that's good night in Quechua - Spanish pah!! Far too easy!!).