I am back in Latin America once again, a year in fact since I was last here. Having spent two months working on an aid project in Honduras and enjoying the best and most rewarding couple of months of my life, wild llamas couldn’t have stopped me heading back to see the results. However, I have decided that some R&R either side of digging trenches and erecting standpipes won’t go amiss. My plane lands in Lima, Peru. Waiting there for me is another reason for returning. Vera. I first met her when we worked on a horse ranch in outback Western Australia. That was five months ago and notwithstanding a couple of side trips to Portman Road, we had decided that meeting in Peru in May would be good for both of us. She wanted to see Macchu Pichhu and I wanted to introduce her to the aid projects in Honduras. | "Dogs do strange things, like stand motionless under a hedge for no apparent reason." | | Duncan Ironside on life in South America |
The language is one area which needs a little remedial work though. My agricultural Spanish (literally) was effectively put in a box while I was away. It’s amazing though how quickly the lingo returns once you start needing things. Words that would have stumped me in Suffolk, slide off the tongue now like honey off a spoon. In fact once I started talking to people in the shops, words that I thought were lost forever suddenly reappear in the middle of a sentence. Not always the right word or in the right part of the sentence I grant you, but the folks get my drift. Also, the remorseless onslaught of English carries on unabated so it seems. As I walked down the street in a working quarter of Lima I am confronted by signs which display the wares of plumbers, still comfortingly displayed as Fontonero. But I now see appended the new term Gasfitero. I half expect to see the words Corgi Registrando written in smaller type underneath.  | | Dog found under bush! |
I am quickly reminded this is a South American country. Dogs do strange things, like stand motionless under a hedge for no apparent reason. Finally, having hiked my way through a dozen streets dodging attempts to sell me hardware and plumbing supplies I am finally standing in the Plaza de Armas, the heartbeat of the capital. It is jam-packed on all sides with colonial era public buildings with finicky balustrades and elegant arches. As I stand on the opposite side of the square from the imposing lemon coloured twin towers of the cathedral, I watch the people scurry home from work. As they approach the big wooden doors of the church they cross themselves elaborately. Tomorrow I head off for Cusco and Machhu Pichhu where I will join up with Vera. After that our real journey begins northwards up the coast and somehow we have to make it to Honduras. The ways of getting there are numerous, most of them involve a rip-off flight which will cost an arm and a leg. The alternative is a tricky and potentially dangerous sea crossing from Colombia to Panama. As I pack my bags for the flight to Cusco, I think about the thorny issue of how to get to Central America. It dawns on me that maybe I should have applied for some insurance at the cathedral as well. The views expressed are solely those of the author and are based on their personal experience(s). The BBC claims no responsibility for the views expressed. | 
