Crap, there goes our cover! Our ability to blend in with the locals has gone up in smoke since we left the multi ethnic and racialy diverse Brazil.

While wandering about Rio we would often get some Portuguese thrown our way because we were wearing the same shorts and sandals as everone else, nobody could see a difference. The stark contrast between ourselves and the majority of the population in Peru means we are no longer incognito. So much so, that we might as well wear a flashing neon sign round our necks saying "Gringo". The taxi drivers in Lima seem to have their gringo detectors most finally tuned as they swarm around in hords beeping their horns at us while we walk down the street, on the off chance that we need a lift. Crossing the road has become a farce while we simultaneously try to negotiate the traffic and wave on all the taxi's that start to slow down and pull over in front of us.

Probably our biggest setback here has been the drop in temperature. Even though it was about 18°C during the day in Lima, this was a significant change from the 30°C weather we got used to in Brazil. Due to this we went into hibernation mode and lay quite low in the capital. While taking it handy we got to see all the build up to Peru's Independence Day (July 28th) and we also made a trip out to an interesting museum, Museo de la Nacion, which details the development of civilizations throughout Peru. While the centre of Lima has some interesting buildings around it we were left with the distinct impression that this city is like many other cities that we've already seen throughout Latin America. The noise, pollution and crazy driving are becoming very familiar.

When we were pondering a route out of Lima, an opportunity to take a trip on one of the highest trains in the world presented itself. This used to be a regular service but was closed down years ago due to terrorist activity. Even though that threat has all but disappeared, the service was never fully restored and now it is only run about six times a year around holiday times (mainly for tourists). While the bus from Lima to Huancayo takes seven hours (as opposed to the twelve hours on the train), we could hardly turn down this chance now could we?

The result was a unique experience as the driver fired up the engine and we set off at a snails pace accompanied by the constant tooting of the horn. Because of the amount of tooting, we begain to suspect that there must have been a small crew designated to handle this function alone. All along the track bystanders ran out to give us a wave. We were promised stunning views and as we got further and further into the Andes we were not disappointed one bit. At it's highest point, the train reached nearly 4,800 metres above sea level and it was here that it stopped for everyone to descend for the breathtaking view. This can be taken quite literally as the air is so thin at this altitude that it can be hard to breathe. There is even a nurse onboard to administer oxygen to anyone that runs into diffculties. Thankfully, we didn't suffer much from this although we'd followed to a letter, the locals advice of drinking mate and sucking on glucose sweets. The only thing that we couldn't find a solution to was the straight backed seats that became uncomfortable after twelve minutes, never mind twelve hours.

The city of Huancayo didn't seem to have a lot on offer for the visiter, but at an altitude of 3270 metres above sea level it was worth stopping off here for awhile so we could climatize. For the first day or so it felt a bit like trying to breathe through a blanket and we had no energy to do anything. We even had to be careful not to laugh too much because trying to catch your breath again was difficult. Once we got used to the altitude, we checked out the surroundings. The surreal Parque de Identidad on the outskirts was really cool looking (very Gaudiesque) and the impressive sandstone pillars and cliffs at Torre Torre were incredible. We also managed to catch the huge Sunday market in the centre before moving on.

At the moment, we are in a small colonial town called Ayacucho. It has a nice pleasant climate of sunny days and mild nights because it is a few hundred metres lower in altitude than Huanacayo. To get here, we had to endure a nightmare nine hour bus trip which wound it's way through the mountains during the night. Surprisingly, it wasn't the dirt road (which was crossed by streams at places) that caused the most difficulty. It was actually the sheer amount of people shoved on board that turned this journey into a pure endurance test. As the bus continued throughout the night, people were falling asleep on top of each other and bodies had to be stepped over when trying to manouvre from one end of the bus to the other. The heat and unpleasant smells that came hand in hand with having so many people in the one place, were all part of the endurance.

Wonder if this is the norm, as over the next weeks we will have to endure more cliff hugging journeys while we continue east towards Bolivia?