Today is officially day one, so that the diary coincides with our official itinerary. We awake to the sounds of strange bird calls. I hope we can see some of the wildlife. We follow a circuitous route to the restaurant for breakfast. Breakfast is the only meal that we are assured of each day but if they are all like this one we won’t starve. It is now over twenty four hours since we last ate, as we were too tired to seek food last night but surprisingly, I don’t feel particularly hungry. I sample some lovely fruit juice, natural yoghurt that is beautifully un-sweet and a rather dry granola that is probably better for me than the granola I have at home but not so pleasant. This is followed by fresh fruit and a cooked dish. I pass on the weird textured scrambled egg, which my companion assures me was very nice but I try the ‘fries’ which are sweet potato, this is served with cold ham and cheese and red pepper salad with cold mushrooms. There are also rolls and jam and I brave the very strong but lovely, caffeinated coffee, resolving to ration myself. My companion mutters about the lack of black pudding and bacon. I do sympathise with him over the ‘tea’ that he chose though. It was hardly traditional English breakfast tea.

To be honest, I would have settled for a relaxing day in the shade of the hotel but my intrepid travelling companion is of the opinion that we should brave the streets of Lima and who am I to gainsay him. We walk four blocks down to the clifftop overlooking Lima Bay. Miraflores appears to be one of the better cared for districts but each property has massive security gates and we spot discarded syringes on our walk. There is a pleasant park along the cliff top, with large numbers of dogs, mostly of breeds that are recognisable to us. We have been told to avoid dogs on account of deciding to forego rabies vaccines. Fortunately none of them seem to be foaming at the mouth or out of control! The park is set up like an outdoor gym, with appropriate equipment and there are plenty of joggers and a couple of exercise classes going on. One of these appears to involve waving unsheathed swords about. A man is hanging upside down on some parallel bars in a very insecure fashion. Underneath his head is solid concrete! We spot some drab birds with shrill cries and enjoy the warm temperatures. The cliffs are covered with purple morning glory. We chat to a retired American teacher who appears to now live in Lima, then it is back to the hotel.

Our Australian friends, with whom we are sharing this adventure (we are blaming them for everything!), arrive. They have already spent two months in South America. We stroll back down to the park in the afternoon. There are street sellers trying to con gullible tourists; we do succumb to an official looking ice cream salesman, who is unperturbed by us paying with a 50Sol note. The lollies were unusual but refreshing and the ‘choc-ice’ was ice cream sandwiched between bourbon like biscuits. The extreme gymnasts and joggers have mostly given up due to the heat but there are tightrope walkers who have strung ropes between the trees. I have already developed some interesting blisters from my first walk in sandals for six months.

At 6pm we meet the rest of our select group of eleven and our effusive tour guide Yuri. I am thinking of renaming this blog ‘How to kill yourself in Peru’. We are on a G Adventures tour and I am trying to embrace the ‘adventures’ part, honestly I am. Poor Pam and Brian are having to act like nannys. I was feeling proud of myself for remembering to don factor 50 before our afternoon walk. I haven’t worn sunscreen since our neobuild adventure several years ago. Our insect repellent is not compatible with the sunscreen, so we will have to choose between sunburn and being bitten but there are no bitey things here. Then it turns out I shouldn’t have been drinking the tap water or cleaning my teeth with it. I do feel a bit naïve. I guess I thought that in an immaculate looking hotel in the capital city we’d be fine. Actually, to be honest, I hadn’t thought at all. There are warning notices everywhere but not one that says ‘Danger of death – don’t drink the tap water’. Does this means you can’t lick your arms after having a shower? Not that I do lick my arms – why would you? – but you get the idea.

Then I got locked in the toilet in the hotel lobby. Fortunately my banging and cries of help brought rescue. You know that thing about me not being fit to be let out! Yuri takes our party to a local open air restaurant El Parquetito. I judge that I haven’t eaten outside in the evening for more than 40 years. The musical accompaniment relies heavily on 1970’s British pop. It is very agreeable and we get to know our fellow travellers. Mostly of early retirement age, there are three are from Canada, two from the US, an Estonian, a Swede, Pam & Brian from Australia and us. We are given a complimentary Pisco Sour, the national drink, which is a brandy like spirit, with lemon and egg white. It tastes good but we are normally very occasional drinkers, so it will probably make the walk back to the hotel interesting. I resist the unadventurous temptation to order lasagna from the menu and go for something that is basically chicken and chips in a tomato and onion sauce. It does at least have a foreign sounding name. It is certainly edible but it is late for eating by our terms and our bodies still think it is 2.30am, which makes it even harder. Chris opts for a beef thingy.

We have been warned that we have to use copious amounts of hand-sanitizer so we don’t get something dire. We have no hand sanitizer. I have an allergic reaction to hand sanitizer, my hands will be raw by the end of the holiday. I guess raw hands are preferable to an unpleasant illness so we stop at a late night shop to buy some hand sanitizer and some water. There are several ‘flavours’ of hand sanitizer but the shop assistant makes the choice. I am given ‘Exotic Romance, Sensual Beauty’. I can’t read anything into this. The male American ahead of me in the queue has been given the same. Allegedly it is coins that are the danger. I resolve to let my travelling companion be the keeper of the coins. Why can’t we adopt the seventeenth century custom of passing them though buckets of vinegar in times of plague?