Most of day 64 was spent sitting on a bus, from Salta, Argentina to San Pedro de Atacama, Chile. But it's very unlike the route the K2 from Surbiton normally takes...

For one thing, we crossed the Andes, which meant winding roads, a colour spectrum of mountains that were green, red, yellow and then a high altitude plain which seemed to go on forever.

The altitude only got to me once, when I really felt I couldn't breathe and I was going all clammy. I just tried to relax and it passed, but you do constantly feel as if there is not enough air. I did get a slight headache but I usually do on busses anyway so it was nothing to worry about.

The border crossing was fine although the Chilean custom guy confiscated the rest of my raisins! You are not allowed to carry anything with seeds into the country, so I hadto say goodbye to them or eat them. I also had an apple but was 'allowed' to eat it although I was not to go out of the customs building until I did... when I took a step towards the door I immediately had four pairs of eyes on me!

I got to talking to the guy sitting next to me, Dutchman Menno, and a Dutch couple actually living near Bree, in Belgian Limburg. I was the one travelling the longest, Menno had three weeks, the couple seven. When you say you are travelling for six months it always creates a bit of envy, I have noticed. But then I would be envious of me too, I am so lucky to be doing this!

Arriving in San Pedro de Atacama is, well, underwhelming to say the least. The bus stops at the end of a dirt road, as it cannot get to the centre because the streets (also dirt roads, incidentally) were too narrow. Menno, the couple and I went looking for a place to stayand ran into Marcelo, who showed us Casa de Huespedes. It was a little out of the city centre, but it was clean, so I said OK.

Menno, as he was leaving tomorrow for Bolivia, wanted to be closer so he found a hostel more near the centre, and the couple wanted some more service (such luxuries as breakfast) so they went off.

I ran into Menno in the evening and we had a cocktail at Cafe Export. Will you believe me when I tell you the first song they played was a disco version of Compay Segundo's Chan Chan? Cuba is haunting me...

Having the cocktail made for us was half the fun. The bartender, a little Steve Buscemi lookalike with long hair, took ages. First he crushed the mint / lemon for my mojito and Menno's caipiriñha, then added sugar, then crushed ice, then added the soft drinks and the alcohol, then he had to mix it all up, then to finish it off put a branch of mint and a piece of lemon on top... The whole thing took about ten minutes. He was no Tom Cruise in Cocktail, I can tell you that!

We decided to stay there for dinner, which was a bit faster in the making. I had pasta with guacamole sauce (very strong on the garlic). We shared a bottle of wine between us, which considering the altitude was perhaps not the wisest thing to do. I felt quite tipsy afterwards.

Menno turned out to be an easy conversationalist (as Dutch people usually are) not letting something insignificant like not speaking Spanish stand in his way. He was telling a Brazilian guy who only spoke Spanish and Portuguese that he liked his English rugby shirt.

He also turned out to be very generous (which, as the prejudice goes, Dutch people usually aren't) as he paid for half my dinner, having bought too many Chilean pesos before. He also brought me back to my hostel, which was nice even though it was unnecessary.

The sky above was absolutely amazing, the stars were so bright and it was as if you could stretch out your hand and touch them, so close did they seem. The Belt of Orion was right above the hotel, a bit like the star above the crib in Bethlehem. Well, maybe not quite...