May 17

We arrived in Santiago, Chile this morning after 2 days of luxury in Miami Beach. I´m glad all the heavy duty travelling is done, 19 hrs in a plane in total - I think I am growing a baboon´s arse already from all the sitting. Haven´t seen Santiago yet but it seems to be circled by large mountains (it is about 4000 feet up) so am looking forward to getting up there.

The hostel we chose is really wacky but the proprietors are lovely. Our room is opposite the reception desk which is entertaining, and there are lots of paintings and plastic parrots. The first person we met was inevitably Irish, Brendan from Drogheda. He is just in from Argentina, and had lots of great things to say especially the one about being dirt cheap. I think the road will take us there soon enough....

We got in at 7.30, and we were kindly put in a spare room out the back till our room at the reception desk was ready. Eimear christened it the shed, and we had a large but dead spider to welcome us on the bed. We lay down for a nap and at 9 on the button the workmen started - I first thought they were dropping rocks onto corrugated iron, but they were actually dropping corrugated iron onto rocks, right outside our door. But sleep deprivation is amazing thing. The crashing and banging took on a rythmic quality and I was asleep by the 16th or 17th sheet.

May 21

The water goes down the toilet the wrong way - the Simpsons were so right. Conger Eel is also more expensive than a fillet steak...hmmmm... The stars are all different - gives you a real feeling of being far away. We were in a local diner the other day in Santiago, there was sawdust on the floor of the men´s (always sensible) and a playboy centrefold on the door of the ladies (over the sign for ´ladies´) and bog roll behind the bar. It was nice. Going to the internet cafe I am in involved interrupting two old dears gossiping on the doorstep and being escorted into her front room " Is it ok if I do the hoovering? "...very industrious. A fifteen minute train journey took 2 1/2 hours coming back on the bus, mainly because the driver went via his favorite bar in the mountains, and had a joint at the bus depot.. But I am starting to adjust...

However, some things are just universal - around 5.00 pm the street newspaper sellers start roaring in the manner of ´get your herrallld´ in Dublin. The same dudes are hawking bootleg tapes and leg it when the cops come. Staff in fast food joints still laugh at hapless tourists who wander in.

We are in Valparaiso, an old port, a bit seedy, scary, but amazing nonetheless. Our house is perched on a lump of rock in the middle of the city, great views, roof terrace and resident pack of dogs on the street below. We are being looked after an elderly lady who is very nice ´beware the dangerous sailors´...you´re damn right I will!!. We are leaving tonight for Pucon in the lake district, which may be snowed in for all we know, but screw it; I have a vision of me riding through the centre of Pucon on a big horse (and possibly a cowboy hat) off to the volcanoes and lakes around it, with a fishing line and maybe a riffle, looking sternly at the villagers, twirling a cheroot around my mouth as they whisper amongst themselves..´Es El Grande!!, but we shall have to see...

I am finally getting Eim around to the concept of backpacking, she has taken the straps out of her bag and now puts it on her back rather than drag it along the ground...Whoooo-HOOO!! I also managed to talk her out of splurging on a private bathroom in Pucon; => more money for horses and guns, YESS!!

June 1

10 days is a long time in South American politics, as well as a badly planned trip...

I left you in Valparaiso last, as it turned out we had to negotiate a riot to get the bus to Pucon. There was a large military parade that day, which we were happily observing high up on our lump of rock. Very Impressive. Patriotic.

We went down to take a closer look. We were confronted with a couple of hundred cowboys (ponchos, spurs, hats the whole lot) one of whom mustn´t have been a day over two years old. They seemed to be joining in the end of the military parade. This was all cool, all very ´South American´ till we got to the downtown where most of the banks were smashed in, the streets were full of rubbish, clumps of riot police feverishly consulting each other and the odd market man burning his stall in the middle of the street.

We beat a hasty retreat and headed for the bus. There were roadblocks all around, but the carabineros (scary police) were quite nice about turning us away. Anyway we got there eventually. It was very surreal leaving that town - you could have cut the atmosphere with a knife. Even the packs of dogs were skulking around rather than shagging and fighting. There was even a smoky pallor hanging over the town as we sped down the motorway to Santiago.

The surrealism didn´t end there, we got our Pucon bus and discovered that it was super luxury with seats that turn into beds. You could have bowled me over with a feather. When the bus rolled off from the kerb and the ´host´ promptly handed out bingo cards and started calling out numbers, Eimear said I looked like ´I had been bitten in the penis by a viper´. I rather imagine that I did, and I rolled exhausted into my bed and slept the sleep of the dead.

We subsequently found from a nice Swiss fella that told us that the students were at the base of the problems in Valparaiso. I am dubious, everyone always blames the feckin students. This man of the land of cuckoos was impressed by the fact we had been in a riot and the worst El Nino floods in years in the space of two days, but I am getting ahead of myself.

On to Pucon, rather larger than the ´one horse town´ I had been foolishly fantasising about. It was very wet, but no riots. We found the Swiss Oracle in a hot spring in the mountains one night, which was quite pleasant despite the downpour. Wine is surprisingly good at dulling the senses.

I did set about finding a horse at the first break in the weather, and off we went trekkng in the mountains with Pinto, my trusty pinto. It was absolutely beautiful, and we were taken back in time to a place where horses are tied to posts rather than pickups parked in the driveway.

It was highly entertaining. My company was one German immigrant horse/ranch owner, one British photojournalist, one British dotcom millionaire, one Kiwi overland tour guide, one gorgeous girlfriend, assorted steeds and two dogs.

The pecking order was rapidly established when Pinto got a kick in the teeth from a posher looking horse with a posher looking chap ontop. It turned out that Pinto was from a neighbouring farm, and was borrowed for the excursion. Of course none of the other horses liked him. Well I liked him, and we got on just fine. Who cares if we had to stay behind the others. And who cares if the posh horse bit me on the leg for good measure - sure wasn´t I wearing ´leather chaps´ anyway?

We went to a waterfall and had lunch. Bliss. We went back down the road, alpine scenery (with volcanoes), birds of prey eying up my pink fingers from adjacent fences and the fear/hope that a Puma would jump out on me any minute! We were bringing the horses down a trail when disaster struck. Eim slipped and the horse stood on her ankle. Matthais saved her from serious injury, but the ankle is in bits. She took it like a true Corkwoman, tough as a nut. Rode the horse back, came home and went to the hospital in the morning.

This email is getting very long so I will spare you more waffle - I will bullet it a bit more.

- Leg in cast for a week. - No crutches, must hop about for three days. - Found crutches in old folks home, dubious nuns, frightened old people. - Went biking, fell in river, caught cold. - Went biking again - Starting to feel very Pepsi Max - Went to climb Volcano. - Made it 1/3 way up, blamed cold (flu), Ernest Shackelton snow shoes, 2 feet deep snow, no breakfast. - Had plenty of company 1/3 up, including the posh English lad from horses. - Had conversation with him about the potato famine in Ireland, and had a picnic. - Threw snowballs, watched snowboarders, got tan, slid down mountain in a bin-liner. - Cast off, return crutches to the old folks. - Whole foot is green and black, resolve to give Argentine hospitals a shot.

Which brings me to Marge and Tina. There are lots of dogs around here, and they are very shameless. Marge and Tina are two little dogs that I saved from uncertain fates from a pack of larger dogs. Marge and Tina were in heat, you see. This was a mistake as they ran to me for protection whenever they saw me, and I started to become unpopular with the large males. As you have probably heard, Argentina is totally buggered, hence the two dogs. I know there is a lesson in there for me somewhere, but I just can´t see it, and I am going to Argentina tonight.

Ah sure, like any badly planned trip, we´ll just have to figure it out.