The things I forgot to mention

Condors, everywhere, and now on film. Stunning, especially with the scenery. Haggling and buying from the artesans, crouched on the pavement, and in particular, those selling musical instruments who gave me impromptu and private concerts. The guys in Asuncion holding one end each of a large banner on poles who leapt out at road junctions and advertised shops on the next block, and then leapt back to the pavement when the lights changed. The kids in the banana plantations who had a banana box as a playpen to keep them from wandering onto the MDRoad. The ladies doing the washing in the rivers and waterfalls, with all the clothes strewn on rocks and cacti to dry. The kids sitting patiently and quietly next to the old men talking and chewing coca. (You could see that they would be doing this sitting, listening and talking for the rest of their lives. Russ in Spain recently told me he was really looking forward to getting to that stage of his life, sitting in the plaza with a few friends and discussing whatever topics - tertulias they are called - and it is part of a way of life Britain has lost, I think). The mad mountain bikers coming down the most dangerous road - no sign of risk assessments and lawsuit culture here! The number of people who just don't show up on the Bolivian census who live so far from anywhere and have no need for governance - they JFDI in life. The wizened and shrunken old ladies lugging their enormous packages of goods for sale in the multi-coloured shawls which double as display mats and carrier bags, miles from anywhere, heading to a distant town or village to sell their wares. The palm trees, banana trees, butterflies, and tropical luxury that hide the abject poverty. The cold, the heat, the humidity, the glacial ice, all in one day. The speed of the sunset - sun sinks gently behind a mountain, it goes dark kazam! The persistent steet vendors trying to flog you the most rancid looking piece of cheese, pasty, or a dust covered bottle of pop, warm and ancient! The packs of wild dogs in the mountains, the straggly haired but well-fed donkeys, the free range pigs at the side of the road in La Paz. Eating soup with a knife and fork on several occasions. The many different breads to eat when there is nothing else available. The friendliness of those we met - only 1 kiss on meeting and departure, not two as I'm used to in Spain. The men shake hands with one hand and pat on the shoulder or back with the other - it looks quite macho but intimate, friendly. The jokes Betsy (American) told in Spanish in the car! The family who had stopped on the most dangerous road next to one of the many waterfalls and rivers, and were just lowering a toddler into the fast-flowing and rocky river in an inflatable ring. The weird and wonderful things for sale in Sucre market on the Monday when I'd forgotten my camera. The dried cats in the witches' market. The woman jogging uphill in La Paz - we were at 3600m and climbing fast. The poodle in the jumper when it was 30+ degrees. The porter in the 5 star hotel in La Paz whose smart black suit was covered in dust from our luggage and car. The buses (flotas) coming round the corners on two wheels, overloaded with bags, boxes etc on their roofracks, who looked to be about to plunge downwards into the gorges as their smashed drivers fought their way to another beer, more coca etc at the end of the journey. The Argentinian restaurant in La Paz with the best meat on the planet. The amazing salad bars when we ate well in Sucre and La Paz. Huari beer, cold and delicious in Caranavi. The best child waiter on the planet at the Hotel Jatata, who I forgot to tip. He ran around the village to acquire pen and paper for me so I could write my notes. The atrocious child tuba player in El Villar who decided that playing outside the practise room would cheer up those playing volleyball. Not! The characteristic smell of api, choclo etc in villages all over. The slightly unexpected power of the chilli sauce in Alcala. The 'mad' French woman in Coroico who cooked the most incredible souffles, crepes, and lamb curry whilst being hostess, smoking and mixing with the guests in a multitude of languages all rolled into one! The impatience of Bolivian drivers at every junction, traffic light, traffic jam etc and the incredible cacophony of noise from horns of every type from wolf whistles to Dukes of Hazzard to air horns on Beetles. The demonstrations with drums and pipes as farmers protested the lack of diesel to harvest their crops. The growing feeling whilst we were there that the President would have to go/flee, as in Ecuador. The anger and frustration at the totally unnecessary regulation and bureaucracy to make these people's lives ever harder. The amazing community spirit and drive against all odds to make life better. JFDI.

All this and more made my trip to Bolivia a wealth of sights, sounds, smells and impressions that make me determined to return there.

For anyone who can't find Bolivia on a map (half my family it seems), and who thought it was a country of mountains, llamas, multicoloured women in black bowler hats, and no more, as I did - think again. Bolivia is a mini continent in its own right, and has the most inadequate tourist board on the planet. Visit it! You will never regret or forget it.