Wed 28th Jan: Copa Libertadores

I took abus into Santiago this morning. It was a relatively short hop into the city. before we knew it we were at the bus station in downtown Santiago. A quick hop on a metro and a 10min walk through Barrio Brasil got me to a hostel. I checked into a 6-bed dorm. In the room there were two Brazilian lads both of whom were into their football. They were about to head over to the national stadium to buy tickets for a Libertadores cup match in the city this evening (The Copa Libertadores is the South American equivalent of the Champions League) When I heard this I was eager to join them. To get to a Copa Libertadores match would be a great way to finsih off South America. The two teams playing this evening were Universidad de Chile from Santiago and a Mexican team Temuca. It was a preliminary qualifying match for the group stages of the competition.

Most of the afternoon wsa spent crossing town to fnd the stadium and the ticket booth but we arrived back into the dorm by early evening eagerly clutching our precious tickets. I couldn't wait to get out to Universidad's ground which is out in the suburbs. After food and a quick shower we rushed to the ground, arriving late which was the fault of Raul the more laid back of the two lads - too bloody laid back when it comes to getting out to a football match. Along the way we met up with friends of the taxi and all piled into a taxi to the ground.

When we got into the ground it was already 1-0 to Universidad so the atmosphere was good. The stadium, Sant Laura is an attractive small ground housing 25-30,000 fans. There weren't any away fans and the home support was in good voice so we were treated to the full flavour of a South American football atmosphere. As with the Boca Juniors match back in November the songs, chants and gestures were different to what we're used to in Europe but the abuse of opposition players, exaggerated anguish when a chance has been missed by our own side and th outrage at refereeing decisions were familiar. The mexican keeper came in for particular attention from the fans behind his goal. Memorably, as the second half kicked off he stood brazenly in his goal facing the massed ranks of 10,000 Universidad fans on the terrace behind as they chanted some fierce abuse down at him.

Universidad won the game 1-0 but it was Temuca who looked the better team. On the final whistle the fans reacted as if they had already qualified for the competition. There was a celebratory air around the stadium and in the streets leading back to the city centre. I would suspect that Universidad will face a difficult challenge to maintain their lead in the second leg in Mexico. By then, however, I'll be in Tonga. I got back to the Hostel around midnight, humming south american chants as I tried to get to sleep.

PS: One week later Universidad travelled to Temuca and did, indeed, lose the away leg. However the score was 2-1 and so Universidad ultimately progressed to the group stages on away goals where, at the time of writing (14/04/09), after four matched they lie second in the group behind Gremio of Brazil on 7pts.

Sat-Tues 24th-27th Jan: Valparaiso

I woke up a bit ropey after the mojitos. The stomach felt a bit iffy but it soon sorted itself out. I spent the day wandering around the city. I'm staying in Cerro Concepcion a real old elegant neighbourhood. Its a very arty distract with a lot of art gelleries, musicians and jewelry makers. Its very relaxed in the sunshine as other tourists emerge to explore the warren of streets and passageways which twist and turn around the hillside. Visually 'Valpo' is quite spectacular. The ring hills form an amphitheatre around the bay. The port and the city centre line the waterfront while the suburbs hover above, clingin to the surrounding hills. There are 9 principal Barrios (or neighbourhoods) each of whic crowns a hill. Houses appear to be built wherever there is space. They huddle close together, almost on top of each other in places. Some are grand old mansions others look ramshackle. The houses are painted in all kinds of bright coolours and because no two houses are the same colour it creates a splash of colour right across the city. Some houses perch dramaticall on cliff tops. Some, in an attempt to create sufficient space are built on stilts out over the cliff edges.

The action takes place down in the city centre. Many bars and restaurants are located in a knot of streets below Cero Concepcion. The long main street Avenida Pedro Montt follows the waterfront for a couple of miles. While the town has a tough reputation, (I was warned to avoid a couple of the neighbourhoods) I like it here. One morning in the city centre one guy came up to me and admonished me for the way I was carrying my rucksack!! He advised me to keep it firmly on my back. While I appreciated the concern I don't keep any bag on my back now. In the cities I always keep it to my front. Thankfully, during my time in Valparaiso I didn't once see anything that caused discomfort. I found the people very pleasant and relaxed. As I left one restaurant one waiter shook my hand and thanked me for coming. I bought a football top in a street market and the husband and wife chatted away for some minutes asking what I thought of Chile and if I liked Valparaiso. I made a point of telling them how much I preferred Chile toArgentina. In all the places I've visited in Chile not once have I encountered anyone who was less than courteous. I have to say I've found the people of Chile, on the whole, the most pleasant of the nationalities in South America.

Of Valparaiso itself I'd describe as a cross between Galway and San Francisco. It has that kind of atmosphere. The only downside to Valparaiso were the mosquitoes which infested the dorm I was in. Their bites left an unmerciful itch. I stayed in a 10-bed dorm for the 5 nights in Valparaiso and I was the only person in the room for the duration. It was great. I had a huge room all to myself. I think had somebody come into 'my' room by the last night I'd have been outraged. Over the course of the 4 days I took it easy. I think I needed to stay in one place for a few days after all the travel through Bolivia and Argentina. Every second night there was a 15hr bus journey with little or no sleep and I think, by last week, I had worn myself out. During the days I'd have a wander. There were plenty of bars to sample the many local brews. One Irish bar offers 170 different kinds of beer. Its like going to a restaurant. You sit down and you're given a menu to choose from. In the evenings there was plenty of street entertainment, open air performances and concerts. I was sorry to leave Valparaiso.

Fri 23rd Jan: Across the Andes to Chile

I'm leaving Argentina and I can't wait to get out. I've no more interest in the place and after returning to the country from Bolivia its been an ant-climax. I'm heading for Valparaiso in Chile and I'm looking forward to it. We have to cross the Andes one more time and this turns out to be the most spectacular border crossing of them all. The mountain valleys are beautiful as we climb towards the frontier. By lunchtime we're at the customs post but there's a queue and it takes three hours before our bus gets through. Another three hours down the road and we reach Vina Del Mar at the coast. Most of the passengers leave the bus here. Most are Argentinians starting their summer holidays, heading for the resorts around Vina. Myself and an Irish couple are left on the bus, the most miserable couple I've ever seen. They don't seem to be talking to each other so it doesn't really encourage me to engage with them. I say hello but the response is lukewarm. Who cares.

Twenty mins later we're in Valparaiso. It looks good. Its an old port town built on a series of hills huddled around a crescent-shaped bay. It used to be a wealthy town. Back in the 19th Century Valparaiso was the busiest port on the Pacific coast after San Francisco but the construction of the Panama canal killed a lot of 'Valpo's' business. The port remains and, judging by the size of some of the tankers moored in the harbour, it still does a brisk business. I found a hostel on Cerro Concepcion, the old historic quarter overlooking the port and town centre.

Immediately I feel at home here. I like the faded grandeur of the place. The hostel I'm in is a grand old 19th century mansion in a grand old neighbourhood. The place is colourful. The houses are painted in all shdes of colour. Murals adorn most blank walls. The bars and cafes have character. The people are friendly. I drop my stuff at the hostel and head down town to eat. Its 8pm and I haven't eaten since breakfast. I call into a bar where there's a large group of office workers knocking back cocktails. It feels like one of the old bars you'd find in Galway. I sit at the bar and order a shrimp pasta and a couple of local brews to wash it down. The bar mans chats away in spanish asking what I think of the food and beer. Both are 'muy bien'. I become curious as to what the group of office workers are drinking. There are fresh sprigs of mint in the cocktails and it leaves a pleasant scent. I'm told they are Mojitos. I ask whats in them and then decide to try one myself. There's one guy preparing all the cocktails. A member of staff invites me over to watch as mine is prepared. Its good. I have another. They go down very easily on top of the local beers. They don't hold back on the rum in these drinks. I have one more. I didn't realise how strong they are. I do now. I feel very tired. Its been a long day but a good one. Its good to back in Chile.

Wed/Thurs 21st/22nd Jan: Mendoza

What can I say about Mendoza? I heard a lot about this place and how good it was but I'm distinctly unimpressed. I have a look around on Wednesday and the city has the feel of being one big suburb. The city centre is a non-entity. I didn't even waste my time taking a photo of the place. Its in wine country but of the city itself I don't know what all the talk is about. Having said that the people where I'm staying are lovely, very friendly. I paid up to take a trip into the mountains on Thursday and was up at 7am . I waited until 9am but the bus never arrivedand after I was refunded my money I went back to the room and took the opportunity to watch tv all day. I think all the long bus trips lately have got to me. I've done a lot of 15hr plus journeys and a good few overnighters and I think they've caught up with me. I'm very tired.

Mon/Tues 19th/20th Jan: Salta

We arrived in Salta around 7.30-8am. I walked into town and after trying two hostels which were full got a room in a gorgeous little guesthouse. It was a bit expensive for my budget - 80 pesos (eu20) but it was quality so I didn't mind.

Salta was ok. Coming back into Argentina felt a bit like returning to Europe. To be I wasn't impressed. After coming from Peru and Bolivia it felt a bit bland. Its a modern town with a busy centre and quite a few English chain stores along the high street. Probably the highlight of Salta was the food and getting two football tops, River Plate and a local team, Gimnasio y Tiro, which resembles a Cov top. There's a good cable car ride that takes you to the top of a hill overlooking the city and that was the high point, literally.

I took a bus to Mendoza on Tuesday afternoon, happy enough to be moving on. This journey turned into a little adventure as well. Buying bus tickets in Argentina can be confusing. All the companies act as agents for each other so even if you go and buy a ticket at the counter of one company they may be issuing a ticke to you for travel with a different company. This is what happened to me. I went to a counter to buy a ticket from a company called Chevalier. They issued me with a ticket for a company called Flecha Bus. Now, what I didn't see and a bus conductor subsequently missed was that the small print indicated I would be travelling with a subsidiary company called Andesmar. I handed my ticket to a bus conductor who showed me to my seat. This was a luxury bus and I couldn't believe my luck. 5hrs later we stop in a town to pick up more passengers and I'm taken aside and told there's a problem, that I'm on the wrong bus. I'm brought to an Andesmar counter in the station and its confirmed that I've taken the wrong bus. I'm told to wait here until 8.30pm when I can catch the bus I'm supposed to be on. What I don't realise is that we've changed timezones within Argentina. According to my watch its 7.10pm when in reality its 8.10pm. I have a wander around the terminal thinking I have nearly an hour and a half to kill. I consider going into a restaurant for a meal but decide against it and intead I return to the relevant platform to wait there. I see a clock which reads 8.30pm. Now I'm confused. I rush to the platform and see my bus there already. I board it quickly and am given a quizzical look by the conductor who had wondered where the person in seat 53 had gone to. It doesn't matter, I'm on the right bus now back but it takes me a couple of minutes to figure out why my watch was out by 1 hour. Roll on Mendoza.

Sun 18th Jan: Back into Argentina

I have bought a ticke to Salta. I was given to understand that the journey was 10hrs. Something got lost in translation as the trip took a long 19hrs. I don't mind the long journeys but when you're expecting make the trip in half the time it actually takes then it becomes long. When I bought the bus ticket the guy from whom I got the ticket left a lingering impression that I'd just been ripped off. He didn't smile as much as smirk as I handed over the money and looked far too happy with himself. There was something about the guy I didn't trust. I may not have paid over the odds but there was something about his expression that stayed with me.

The bus was supposed to depart around 10.30am but by 10.50 there was no sign of the bus. I bought the ticket from Balut tours who display a poster depicting a lovely luxury doubledecker coach for their Argentinian routes. Sometime around 11am a rickety, dirty single decker rumbled into the station. A woman came over to me and handed me a ticket and said 'you're on that bus'. The bus finally chugged out of town 50 mins late. It was 3hrs to Villazon on the border with Argentina. The countryside around Tupiza was spectacular, dramatic ravines and rocks of orange, purple and pink. But once we ascended on to a high plain it was flat all the way to Villazon. We had to change buses here so I collected my luggage and went looking for the bus to Salta. As soon as I got off the bus there was a gaggle of people asking me where I was going. At first I kept telling them I was going to Salta and that I had a ticket but I got tired of continuously repeating myself. It was incessant. The next time I was asked where I was going I replied "El Banyo!!", (to the toilet). That kept them quiet.

Some confusion followed in Villazon. I was expecting to pick up a bus for Salta here but instead I had to hand in my ticket, was issued with a new ticket and then told I had to walk through town to the border post, complete the border formalities on both the Bolivian and Argentinian sides and then walk up to the bus station in Quiaca on the Argentinan side. It was quite simple but the procedure hadn't been explained to me so it all seemed for a while puzzling for a while. At the bus station in Quiaca I again had to hand in this new ticket. I was now issued with two tickets. All very bizarre. The bus would depart at 9pm. It wasn't direct so I would have to change buses at Juyjuy at some point during the night. In the meantime I had about 5hrs to wait in Quiaca.

I got a bite to eat and then waited for what seemed an age. Finally 9pm came. We queued to board the bus in a torrential downpour. Lightning flashed and thunder roared. I was glad to get on that bus. Another 6hr journey took us to Juyjuy. I had been unable to sleep so by now I was very tired. We arrived in Juyjuy at 3am and now faced another 3hr wait before catching the bus to Salta

While I waited more buses from Quiaca arrived. A group of Irish girls and a lad stepped off this bus. I had seen them in Quiaca but hadn't spoken to them. God love them they stood out. I've heard how we Irish don't have much dress sense compared to other nationalities but this group were ridiculous. The lad looked like a leprechaun on tour dressed up in all the touristy 'inca' poncho, hat and jumper. It was obvious they had come down from Peru. Yer man had all the backpacker 'inca' uniform on. I don't know why so many of the backpackers buy all this gear poncho, hat, jumper etc. They look comical as they traipse around dressed up in this gear feeling as though they've somehow 'turned native' during their visit to Cuzco and Macchu Picchu. None of the locals wear this gear and, I suspect, have a right giggle at some of the loo-laas who dress up like that. The girls weren't wearing this gear but yet they still stood out in the crowd the way they were dressed. They just looked odd. I stayed away from them.

After what seemed an age the bus for Salta finally pulled up. By now I was very tired. Most people had been waiting through the night for this bus. Now we just wanted to get on the bus and sleep. A queue formed and we stood in line. Suddenly the Irish contingent pushed their way to the front brushing past an old woman standing beside me who was next in line. The old woman began to complain but, no matter, the leprechaun and banannarama pushed their way in all the same. I wanted to take a swing at the gobshite. The leprechaun was ignorant and arrogant. My temper was up. I was overtired and frustrated. I was still annoyed by that ridiculous looking fool as I took my seat. Thankfully I was so tired I fell asleep almos straight away. 90 mins later we were in Salta. I had been a long, frustrating night. No wonder the guy who sold me the ticket was smirking.

Fri/Sat 16/17th Jan: Tupiza

Tupiza is a small town. We arrived into its bus station around 7.30-8am. It doesn't take long to find a hostel. After last nights adventures I bed down to get some sleep. When I wake up and head down towards reception I'm put sitting down by one of them women who run the hostel and given a rundown on the tours and activities on offer here. Unfortunately the costs are dependent on the size of the participating group. Its very quiet here so I'm the only person intierested in some of the activities and so the cost is too high for my budget.

Tupiza is a quiet, dusty little town. The surrounding countryside is beautiful with purple coloured hills on all sides. I will spend two days here but I don't do much other than walk around the streets. To do or not to do the Uyuni tour is the nagging question in my mind. I've been mulling over this for a number of days now to the point that its beginning to stress me. Eventually I decide not to do it in favour of heading South into Argentina to visit Salta and Mendoza. In an internet cafe I find a cheap flight from Auckland to Tonga and decide to book it instead.

The highlight of my time here is a small family restaurant I discover in a street just off the main Plaza. I visited the place three times. The second time I went the owner came up and asked me to check the spelling and phrasing of a large sign he has had printed for the front of the restaurant. I also have to check the spelling and suggest alternative phrasing for another sign he wants produced as he's adding a bar to the back of the restaurant. Its a small homely place. All the family chip in with the operation and the food is great. All the food I request is Italian and each time its delicious. I call in on Saturday night for a pizza and a beer and I end up staying into the small hours drinking whiskey with the family and a couple of locals. At some point a bottle of Jameson appears on the table. Its a little gesture of respect and hospitality from the hosts which I appreciate greatly. The wife, who is a typically portly Bolivian woman, appeared quite sullen on my first visits to the place, but this evening as she is getting used to me ordering from the menu has become very friendly and pleasant. While I eat my pizza she conducts an interview on a local radio station to advertise the place. The interview is broadcast live on the radio as she stands in the middle of the restaurant floor speaking into a mobile phone as guests eat their meals beside her. Her husband chats to me and asks if I will send pictures, music and menus from Ireland when I get home. How could I refuse?

15th/16th Jan: The night bus to Tupiza

Last night was a long night. We left Sucre on a fairly rickety old bus heading for the mountains. As darkness fell flashes of lightning showed a thunderstorm ahead. As the darkness closed in the lightning got brighter. The higher we climbed the flashes became more frequent. Sometimes the sky lit up in three different places simultaneously. Clouds which sat not far above the mountain tops lit up reflecting the lightning as if they were explosions. The lightning became so frequent it appeard as though a great battle were raging in the heavens. And we were heading straight for it. As we crested the top of a pass forked lightning began whizzing down nearby. Lightning strikes lit the interior of the bus so brightly you had to close your eyes. The thunder which accompanies these flashes exploded so loud as if a tear had ripped across the sky. You didn´t sleep through this storm.

We passed through the centre of the storm and sloly the lightning began to recede. An hour later at a roadsde cafe the storm lit up the sky silently, far in the distance. We stopped for 45mins. The toilets here were so bad most of us preferred to use a ditch. It was cold tonight, very nippy. Waiting for the driver to finish his meal and unlock the bus I chatted to the lad who had the seat next to me. I had to shuffle about to try to stay warm.

Back on the bus it was still cold. One guy kept a window open which flooded the bus with sharp cold air. Protests from others forced him to close the window. All the Bolivians had brought blankets with them, as they mostly do on overnight buses. Their blankets are always bright, colourful and warm-looking. I only had a light fleece which kept the worst of the cold off me but it wasn´t comfortable. On this journey I kept having premonitions that this would be the night the bus would be held up by bandits. It happens. In Lima I spoke to an Irish girl whose friends lost everything when they´re bus was held up. With such thoughts it was hard to relax.

Despite the cold and my premonitions I did fall into a light sleep but all the while at the back of my dreams I could feel the cold. I woke up when the bus stopped. The window was open again and people were peering out into the darkness. I couldn´t see anything but I could here voices in the distance and dogs barking. I though "Here we go". But nobody came near us. Another bus pulled alongside us for a few minutes. The two drivers spoke to one another and then the other bus moved on. We stayed put. Nothing happened. Everything remained quiet save for the barking of a dog. There was no explanation for why we were stopped. The window was closed. Everybody else settled down to sleep so I did my best to join them.

I woke up just as dawn as breaking. I was cold. The window as open again, some of the passengers were watching something. On my side of the bus people were walking through fields. I had to go to the toilet so I went outside. Looking around our bus wasn´t alone as I had thought. There were about 20 other buses around us, all parked up in a long line by the roadside. I was surprised. I hadn´t hard them at all during the night, thinking our bus was alone. We were parked on an incline which led down to a river crossing. On the far side of the river about 10 other buses coming from the opposite direction were parked up. Down in the river a lorry and bus were stuck fast. Recent rains had turned this crossing into a quagmire. Everybody was up now so there was quite a crowd watching, wondering what was going to happen.

The bus at the head of the line on our side starts up. Its bright now so the driver can try and pick out some solid ground to attempt a crossing. Slowly the bus moves forward. Everybody on our bus is now standing up, watching and commentating on the action. The bus slithers and stops, a gasp from the crowd. The bus begins to move again, a couple of cheers ring out. The bus gains momentum and makes the crossing, a round of applause. All the buses now start their engines on our side and one by one we follow this new path across the river. We make it across. Behind us a line of 15 buses slowly approach the river. We drive by the unfortunate passengers of the stranded bus, relieved we´re not on that one.

From here to Tupiza the road is one big mess. There are roadworks as a new surface is being laid down but the place is a mess. We drive through a series of canyons. Hills begin to appear. The bare rock is spectacular colouring of purples, pinks and browns. A blanket of cloud is draped across the hilltops. A river bank brings us into a small valley surrounded by these purple hills. On the far bank sits Tupiza.

Thurs 15th Jan: The shoeshine boys of Sucre .

I have a bus ticket to Tupiza down in the southeast of the country, about 3hrs from the Argentinian border. On a whim I´ve decided to go there after reading Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid came here not long before they botched a robbery and died in a shoot out. I was going to go to Uyuni and do a tour of the salt flats there but no I´m torn about whether to go or not. I almost signed on for a tour from here in Sucre but just as I was about to pay the tour agent began asking for extras. That she waited until I had signed a voucher to tell me about extra costs really annoyed me and I cancelled it there and then, not trusting her. Now I can´t decide hether to go or not. In the meantime I´ll have a look at Tupiza.

Last night I was really annoyed. Between the fast talking tour agent and the two lads who tried to mug me I was.... unsettled. This morning however the weather is beautiful. I have a fine breakfast in a cafe n the Plaza. The waitress is all polite and friendly and suddenly I forget hy I got so angry. I take a walk up to a monastery overlooking the town and spend a while gazing at the scenery. I head back dow to the main Plaza. Yesterday, sitting here I was surrounded by some of the local shoeshine boys, all young lads. They go for all the gringos and try to wrangle some way of getting money out of the tourists. If its not money for cleaning shoes they ask if you have any foreign currency as they collect coins. I gave a group of them some leftover coins from The U.S., Uruguay and Chile. Each one scrutinised their coin like it as gold dust. and I slipped away unnoticed.

Today the kids weren´t so persistent. They were content to list off all the capital cities they knew. One young lad selling sweets joined the group and sat at my feet, tipping my knee as he asked for money. He wasn´t as confident as the shoe shine lads as they seem to be the ones who make the money. He was a bit more down in the mouth. As the other group moved on I asked him here he as from. He sat up on the bench beside me and told me he lives in Sucre, that his favourite team and champions of Bolivia are Universitario, actually they´re not, Potosi are but he as adamant and I wasn´t arguing. He then began to list off all the countries he had coins for. I left before he started asking for mone again. Just before I left for the bus station I passed through the Plaza. I saw the young lad wandering around. I shouted over to him "Hey, Amigo" and gave him a couple of coins as I walked by. I don´t know if I should have done this. But he was a good kid.

Wed 14th Jan: Sucre

Just before dawn the bus stopped to refuel at a roadside petrol station. I needed to go to the toilet so I left the bus for a convenient spot in the open. This sparked a mass exodus from the bus as other like minded individuals formed a atery perimeter in a semicircle round the bus. The driver asn´t too happy with this delay but, as earlier, necessity prevailed over nicety. We all tiptoed back onto the bus under the simmering gaze of the driver and as the bus pulled away everyone relaxed in good spirits.

We reached Sucre around 9am and a mini crisis hit our seat. The womans daughter who was by now standing in the aisle turned to her mothe as if she as about to say something. Suddenly she began to heave. She put her hand to her mouth as she as about to throw up. I as full sure she as going to thro up on me but fair play to her she supressed it, I don´t kno how, until her mother got an empty bag for her. It wasn´t a pleasant experience.

I got a hostel in the centre of town. Sucre is a world away from La Paz. One of the first things you notice about the place is that its a white city. Most of the buildings are whitewashed. This used to be the old colonial capital of Bolivia until this honour passed to La Paz after independence. Sucre is a very elegant city with all its wealthy colonial mansions and stately public buildings. The centre is quite small so it doesn´t take too long to get around. The courtyards of some of the mansions are particularly beautiful. The street front of these houses can be plain enough but once you pass through the foyer and into the courtyard you can get an idea of the ealth and splendour that was here.

Sucre is a young and glamorous place. It has a university and so caters for the influx of students. The bars have a familiar feel here. You could be back home in some of them. THey certainly cater for western tastes in this ton. Also, people look different here. There´s a lot of mixed blood whereas La Paz is domiated by indigenous people. People here are glamorous, confident and ealthy looking. Cars look new and expensive, so do the clothes. There are, however, a proportion of poor and vagrants. Most of these are indigenous people. While Sucre is a moneyed city it is one which I doubt holds much support for the President. Whereas in La Paz almost all the graffiti is pro-Morales. Here it is much more mixed. There is a lot of ant-constitution slogans. One passing car had a poster hich depicted Morales as a dictator alongside Pinochet.

In the evening while I was walking around town lads tried to get at my rucksack. On the first occasion I was in the main square when I felt something at my bag. A young lad had tried opening the zipper and when I turned to see what was going on he came around on my other side and started asking for money!! I just laughed at him. 15mins later I as walking around the market area which was busy. Again I felt something at the bag. I turned quickly and a lad in his 20´s pulled his hand away before brushing past me. I was ......annoyed. He was only a few yards away so I followed him. I stayed behind him as he turned up a side street. He turned and saw me following. A few more yards He looked back and I was still there watching him. He crossed the street but I kept parallel with him. When he looked a third time and saw me still with him he ran. Its just as well he did. I don´t know what I was doing. I was annoyed. I expected this in La Paz, not in Sucre. I go to sleep tonight slightly bitter towards Bolivians.