I dragged myself out of bed at about nine, packed my stuff and went to the bus terminal to go to Iquique.

People kept jumping the queue, which after two years of living in queue-loving England, seriously annoys me. I wanted to ask whether the gringa was invisible, but I let it go, as I have done (or tried to do) with so many things on this trip.

On the bus, I sat next to a peruano who spread out, taking up half of my seat and legroom, then chucked his rubbish out of the window, something which really pisses me off. Unfortunately it's common practice in Peru and Bolivia and I think it will be a few years yet before that changes. I mean, there are no rubbish bins anywhere, so it's not like it's a high priority.

Iquique was about four hours away, about the shortest bus trip I had been on since Santiago-Valparaiso. I'll be so happy to have a car in New Zealand! Iquique is a beach resort, Chilean style. Sundrenched and full of traffic jams.

I got dropped off at the Casa de Huespedes Profesores, a slightly chaotic but amiable place where I had a lovely shower. The owner told me his aunt had a Chilean restaurant in Brussels. I creamed up as my sunburn is still going strong and I didn't need another one.

I had lunch at Bavaria, eating a Chilean specialty which would be sure to horrify Keiron and probably some of you as well: Hot Dog Italiano, a hot dog with avocado, tomato and loads of mayonaise... Jum.

I then had a walk around and Iquique is quite quaint in places. If you walk along the wooden walkway of Av. Baquedano and squint a little, you may be forgiven for thinking you're in New Orleans, but without the Americans, thanks to the wooden houses in bright colours with porches and balconies. Paint them brown and add a few horses and it's the wild west. There's a San Francisco type tram which doesn't run and it's colourful, peaceful and sunny.

There's no one around because everyone is at the beach. I went shopping instead, trying to find a bikini. Unfortunately, Chilean bosoms seem to be a little, ehm, less prominent than mine and nothing fit...

In the evening I went to a restaurant with the good intention of not eating chips. I ordered corvina and pure (seabass and mash) only to have the waiter shake his head at me: no pure, just chips. I thought they were both made of potatoes and thus should be both available, but that seems to simple a way of looking at things...

I had a walk around Iquique at night and it was brilliant, I like this place.