There wasn’t much point in hiring a car for where we had decided our next move would be, other than getting there. So we opted for the Costa Verde bus line.

After a final visit to the Australian coffee shop and closing the door on our very comfortable apartment, we set off. With luggage in hand, we jumped into an Uber for the thirty minute ride across town, through the city’s back door into the less salubrious areas, past Maracanã and into the bus station, where we boarded the midday service to Paraty.

Buses and trains are often the best way to see a country, but this was our first road trip since arriving in South America.

We were a couple of hours into the journey before leaving the urban sprawl behind and re-entering the forested landscape, which eventually gave way to more intimate coastal roads. Along the way, the bus made several unplanned stops, extending the journey more than expected. By the time we stepped off, it was after 6pm.

The apartment we had booked was set within beautiful grounds and was correctly described as a wellness retreat. It had great energy. We later discovered that the project had originally been conceived as a small Italian-style village. Although it was not completed entirely in that vision, it works very well. It is peaceful, with enchanting birdsong from dawn to dusk.

As we have discovered, Brazil receives most of its rainfall during the summer months, and for the first couple of days we found ourselves dodging heavy downpours. It dampened our spirits a little, but they soon passed and we began to explore.

The walk into the historic centre takes about ten minutes, following an estuary set against an incredible mountain backdrop. Palm trees provide intermittent shade along the way. Crossing one of the small bridges brings you to a central square, and from there out into narrow, heavily cobbled streets. After the recent rain, the stones stood proud, making the walk a little more precarious, but in my mind it only added to the experience.

Paraty is an old fishing village and is not particularly known for its beaches. However, about a twenty minute walk along a quiet road through tall trees brings you to a small stretch of beach with a few bars playing live music. It is not somewhere I would necessarily recommend for swimming, but if, like me, you are happy to sit on a lounger under the palm trees and listen to the music, it is perfect.

We took a trip to nearby Trindade, which offers a series of striking golden beaches that feel as though they have been carved out of the forest. Some of the more remote beaches can only be reached by walking across hilly forest paths.

The final beach we visited was more a collection of large boulders forming a natural pool. Rachel found it quite magical. It was on the walk back to the restaurant for lunch that I first noticed the red welts. There are some hungry mosquitoes here, and up until that point I had managed to avoid them entirely since arriving in South America, but they are a different breed here.

Rachel has been busy with work and has aggravated an old knee injury, so we had to rethink some of the hikes and excursions we had planned. Given more of the same was probably waiting for me in the jungle, I was not too disappointed. In truth, it has been a busy trip, and we were both quite happy to slow things down and enjoy wandering around this beautiful little place.

https://www.airbnb.co.uk/rooms/1384007099635607477?unique_share_id=13c5e91b-3157-42e0-a869-e79c6931b605&viralityEntryPoint=1&s=76

We decided to use the same transfer company to take us to the airport, as we were leaving Argentina and entering Brazil, flying out of Foz do Iguaçu. We had seen firsthand the lengthy queues at both borders, and as I mentioned before, the tour companies are expert at navigating this process, swiftly depositing us at the airport with time to spare.

The flight landed in Rio de Janeiro around two hours later. Uber has worked well in each of the South American countries we have visited, and Brazil was no exception. Apparently the traffic was light in the early afternoon, so we pulled up outside our apartment building and were welcomed, I think, by our concierge, who, after taking our passport details, handed us the keys.

We are staying in Ipanema, in a very comfortable, bohemian apartment, positioned about five minutes either way between Ipanema and Copacabana beaches, both of which we were looking forward to seeing.

We arrived on a Monday to rain, and it didn’t stop until Friday. Not wanting to ruin our first glimpse of the places we had come to see, and with Rachel busy with work, we decided to wait it out. Instead, we explored the inner, slightly soggy urban areas, found a very good Aussie coffee shop, and shared stories with other travellers.

When the skies eventually cleared, we made our way onto Ipanema Beach and set off along the white sands. Brazil has a tropical climate, so even when it was raining it was still hot, but under the midday sun it was roasting. This did not seem to deter anyone. Some sheltered under umbrellas, but everywhere you looked people were playing Altinha, a game where you use everything except your hands to keep the ball in the air. It’s great to watch.

The place is full of energy, and by the time we had walked from one end to the other, the beach was in full swing.

The following day we found ourselves in the bohemian neighbourhood of Santa Teresa, with its yellow trams, before making our way to the famed Escadaria Selarón, the colourful mosaic staircase that leads down towards the lively district of Lapa. There, we caught a live samba show in one of the many parks, where hundreds of people moved as one, completely under the spell of the music.

Later that day we had tickets for the busy little train that climbs Corcovado Mountain to the statue of Christ the Redeemer. It was another humbling experience. The statue is an astonishing sight, around one hundred feet across, standing high above the city below.

Copacabana feels like the more polished of the two beaches. It is set up for both day and night, with snack bars lining the busy promenade. It also felt a little narrower than Ipanema, but just as lively, with people of all shapes and sizes enjoying the beach. The sounds of samba and bossa nova drift through the air, unmistakably Brazilian.

I had also booked the cable car up Sugarloaf Mountain for views across the city and to catch the sunset. Unfortunately, by the time we reached the summit, the clouds had rolled in. There were brief moments when they parted, revealing glimpses of the city and the many islands surrounding Rio, including a view across to Christ the Redeemer, which at times appeared to be suspended in the clouds.

It is a city where, despite man’s efforts to shape it, nature still feels very much in control. Green space is everywhere, and the Atlantic Forest continues to weave its way through the urban landscape.

I’ll be honest, I had my reservations when we first arrived under grey skies and rain. But Rio is a city that does not take itself too seriously. It is a multicultural place where anyone could be Brazilian, but those who are seem to move with a rhythm and confidence that feels entirely its own.

https://www.airbnb.co.uk/rooms/4548364?unique_share_id=76d4ef3f-ff23-4063-add0-c8cb8ed59c5c&viralityEntryPoint=1&s=76

There were no direct flights to Iguazú from Mendoza, so after another early morning pickup we headed to the small airport in Mendoza and boarded the first of two flights. We flew back to Buenos Aires before a short wait for our onward flight to Iguazú, still on the Argentinian side. It was the most direct option available, but it still took just over four and a half hours. That said, the local airports are very easy to navigate and so far everything has worked like clockwork for us.

Our luggage was first through, which is always a relief when bags have been transferred between aircraft. We were then met by our driver and set off for the hotel.

The first thing you notice here is the humidity. The temperature was about the same as it had been in Mendoza, but the humidity made it feel at least five degrees warmer. We were in the Atlantic Rainforest after all.

We were staying for the next four days at Jungle Lodge. When we opened the door to our small suite we were greeted with a wonderful view of the Iguazú River. Looking to the left was Paraguay and to the right was Brazil, although all we could see was jungle.

We didn’t do much on the day we arrived. We had an early dinner and turned in early as the following day would be a full one with an early start.

After a good breakfast our guide arrived and off we went. Based on advice from several people we had met along the way, we decided to book all our tours in advance. The guides have preferential entry through the borders and into the parks, along with access to certain routes inside them. The parks also limit visitor numbers.

Even so, it still took about an hour and a half before we found ourselves boarding the small eco train for a slow thirty minute ride to our first stop, followed by a two kilometre walk filled with anticipation and excitement.

The walkways snake across the Iguazú River, which translates simply as Big River. It is a slow build up. As you look out on either side you see tufts of greenery and large geometric rocks scattered across the surprisingly clear water.

Then the sound begins to grow louder. A mist appears as you turn the final corner and arrive at the Garganta del Diablo, the Devil’s Throat, where all the water suddenly falls away.

This is where most of the water in the river converges and then disappears, with around 6.5 million litres flowing every second. It is incredible. The falls are wider than Victoria Falls and taller than Niagara.

The Devil’s Throat forms a giant horseshoe and a walkway brings you as close as possible to the edge and a view into the abyss. As you would expect, you get completely soaked, which only adds further to the experience.

A friend had told me beforehand that he found the place deeply moving. I can confirm that it is both emotional and humbling.

We then boarded the eco train again and travelled to the mid station. From there we followed the paths through the jungle and gradually made our way downwards. Walking under the leafy canopy offered welcome relief from the intense sun. Along the way we took in the flora and fauna and glimpsed wildlife, with one remarkable view after another.

There are more than 275 waterfalls here. The Argentinian side accounts for about eighty percent of the area and allows you to get very close to many of them as they cascade gracefully into the river below.

We stopped for lunch and spent some time sharing travel stories with Franco and Anna from Rome, who like us were soaking in the experience.

After lunch we continued on for another three to four kilometres, which again offered some truly extraordinary views.

The following day we visited the Brazilian side of the falls, crossing both the Argentinian and Brazilian borders.

The day before we had worked to see the many intricate sections of the falls. On the Brazilian side you gain a broader perspective. These are the sweeping postcard views.

It is just under a two kilometre walk along a designated pathway that overlooks the Argentinian side. In a way it felt like cheating. All the views are laid out in front of you without having to make much effort. But I have to admit the scenes are breathtaking.

From this side you see the entire sweep of the Iguazú. You lose some of the angles that you experience in Argentina, but by stepping back you can take it all in at once. It ties together everything we had seen the day before.

The walk ends with a viewpoint at the open end of the horseshoe. From this vantage point we were looking up into the Devil’s Throat, with waterfalls to the left and right and water droplets creating rainbows. It was one of the most incredible things I have ever seen.

We were back at the lodge by early afternoon and spent some time resting by the pool before the inevitable jungle downpour arrived later in the day.

We had managed to avoid the rain on both sides of the falls. It certainly lived up to its billing as one of the world’s seven natural wonders, and it was a wonderful way to spend Rachel’s birthday.

It was an easy flight from the smaller and much more relaxed local airport in Buenos Aires. We were picked up from the apartment at 6:45am and by just after 11am we were letting ourselves into our new apartment in Mendoza.

We decided to stay just outside the city, but close enough to walk or take an Uber in. The apartment sits directly opposite the Mendoza tennis courts and is a stone’s throw from the wonderful San Martín Park. It is also a five minute walk from a street dedicated to restaurants and coffee shops, all shaded from the heat by a canopy of well established trees.

The climate here is very dry and one of the first things we noticed were the fast running water channels on either side of many streets. We discovered they are part of an intricate irrigation system that sustains the many large trees across the city. They are beautiful to look at and add a sense of calm.

Just before leaving Buenos Aires we arranged a last minute excursion. At about 5:30pm a minibus arrived to take us on what turned out to be a forty five minute drive to the foothills of the Andes, followed by another twenty minutes through what initially looked like a rocky impasse before we reached a gaucho estate. From there, along with a small group, we would head out on a two hour trek.

Neither of us are horse riders, so we were both a little nervous as we climbed onto these big animals and listened carefully to Diego’s instructions on how to handle our particular mounts. Once we set off and began to get acquainted with these beautiful and well trained horses, which were clearly well cared for, we relaxed and started to enjoy the solitude and openness around us. Our route followed small undulating trails through thorny bushes and cacti, crossing long empty riverbeds along the way.

I didn’t take many pictures. Not just because I didn’t want to drop my phone, but also because it felt strangely disrespectful to interrupt the experience I had been given.

When we returned to the camp, the gauchos helped us dismount before tending to the horses, making sure they were fed and watered. The riders then gathered around a long wooden table where a feast had been prepared during our ride. Various cuts of meat had been expertly cooked over an open fire and we all enjoyed the meal together.

We finished the evening sitting beside the fire under the stars while Diego played his guitar and sang Argentinian folk songs. It was a wonderful experience.

We soon settled on Paloma as our regular morning coffee stop. Argentina is not particularly known for its coffee, but this place was very good and the food was excellent.

Rachel has been fairly busy with work during this trip, so her walks have mostly been short ones around town. I ventured further into San Martín Park. It is vast and I didn’t manage to see all of it, but I enjoyed what I did explore. There is plenty of birdlife and the park is clearly well cared for by both those who maintain it and those who use it. The entrance gates on the city side are particularly impressive.

We decided it would be far more enjoyable to cycle through the vineyards rather than be driven through them. After a short Uber ride from the city and picking up bikes from Mr Hugo’s bike rental, a small family run business and agreeing a route, we set off.

It was a very hot day with little shade, as we cycled through the rows and rows of vineyards, so we decided to visit the highly acclaimed Trapiche vineyard first. Unfortunately we had missed the only English speaking tour of the day. By good fortune, however, we met a young chap who was only too happy to practise his English, which was excellent. He talked us through the entire grape to glass process, explained the different wines they produce and even offered Rachel the chance to taste several of them, which she happily accepted.

Malbec is what Mendoza is best known for. The dry conditions here are perfect for the grape, unlike the more humid French wine regions where it originated. Apparently the French did not favour it much at all. Malbec in French loosely translates to bad taste or bad mouth.

The history of the vineyard dates back to the late 1800s and the old railway line once used to transport wine to Buenos Aires can still be seen. We even wandered briefly through the wine vats where we caught the end of a tour. At first I thought the singing was piped in, but it turned out to be the sommeliers themselves finishing their presentation. They were that good.

We had planned lunch at a boutique winery, which we eventually reached after the tourist police kindly put us back on the right road when I had led us somewhere we should not have been.

Our host generously poured more wine for Rachel and served some very good food, which after about three hours on the bikes was very welcome.

Chile was great fun, and after our final week in Viña del Mar we both felt rested and ready to head back into a city again.

The flight from Santiago to Buenos Aires was only a couple of hours. Tim, our new host, had arranged a car to collect us and take us to our new abode, which, given that we arrived during a four day holiday, was a stroke of luck.

The apartment is about half an hour from the international airport in the Villa Crespo area of Palermo. It sits on the top floor and has an incredible 180 degree double terrace overlooking the city. It even has a jacuzzi on the bedroom terrace.

The urban landscape is intertwined with swathes of green space, often described as the lung of the city, which ensures that the air quality is surprisingly good. The city itself operates on a grid system, which Rachel assures me makes finding your way around straightforward. Having no real sense of direction, I can’t comment.

We like to walk, so exploring the back streets, discovering new coffee bars and watching life unfold has been great. The people feel more laid back here than in Santiago and just as friendly, perhaps even more open.

Rachel is a big fan of dance, so we arranged a tango lesson in the La Boca area, which is famous for it. Anahi, our hard working teacher, explained the dance and its variations in detail, stressing the importance of balance and keeping the upper body almost motionless. She then taught us the basics.

The three of us later headed to a Milonga, one of the pop up tango clubs where people of all ages gather to dance. It is all about the tango, with everyone dancing with one another and moving slowly around the floor in an anticlockwise direction. They were very good. We even got to watch our teacher dance with another dancer visiting from New York. It was less a dance and more a glide across the floor.

Needless to say, we sat that part out, but we are practising.

We decided that the best way to see the city was by taking one of the open top hop on hop off buses. Armed with forty eight hour tickets, off we went. As I mentioned, it is a very green city, with a mix of European architectural styles. Large boulevards run through the heart of the city alongside expansive parks. It comes as no surprise to learn that this was once the main South American outpost, reflected in the scale and opulence of its buildings.

Our first stop was the National Art Museum. I had come to see a fine collection of French Renaissance artwork and was not disappointed.

From there we wandered through the parks and up to the Recoleta Cemetery, established in the early nineteenth century. It was originally intended for the aristocracy and contains the most incredible collection of family mausoleums I have ever seen. Anybody who is anybody seems to have a piece of real estate here. Even Eva and Juan Perón rest here.

One of our favourite spots was an area where several of the beautiful boulevards seem to converge, giving the city a grand, almost European feel.

We had also been recommended a steak restaurant. I don’t eat much meat, but I couldn’t come to Argentina without trying their famed beef. Needless to say, it did not disappoint. In truth, one portion would probably have been enough for both of us, especially as we had both ordered starters.

https://www.airbnb.co.uk/rooms/1020264929749217367?unique_share_id=11c1f06c-90fc-4bf0-8c51-4555834dc8ad&viralityEntryPoint=1&s=76

It was just over a two-hour flight from Calama back to Santiago. Rachel had been struggling with a bit of altitude sickness, so although we both really enjoyed the Atacama, it was good to be back at sea level.

I had arranged a transfer from the airport to take us to our next destination, a drive west to the Pacific coast. Along the way we passed through built-up urban pockets intertwined with arable land and vineyards. Just over two hours later we arrived in Viña del Mar, where we would be staying for the next seven days, and were met by our gracious host.

The apartment sits right on the front line, with uninterrupted views up and down the coastline and out over the powerful Pacific. As we continue to travel and explore different countries, having something interesting to look out over has become very important to us.

The apartment blocks are built along a steep cliff face, with the town set further back. Around ten private funiculars continually ferry residents up and down. Because we are staying at sea level, you don’t get a true sense of how many buildings are tucked into the hillside. There are only a handful of small hotels here.

Our host extended his hospitality further by inviting us for drinks with him and his charming partner. We spent the evening swapping life and travel stories. Much of our onward travel planning has been shaped by the generous people we meet, and once again we left with helpful tips and local insights.

One thing that takes some getting used to is the sound of the Pacific crashing against the shoreline, which drowns out almost everything else.

We have a small pop-up coffee wagon across the road and a few nearby restaurants, but everything else is about a thirty-minute walk to the left of the apartment. Turning right was a little precarious at first, with narrow paths and traffic to dodge, but halfway along it opens into a walkway that passes several beaches and a cluster of houses carved into the rocks. The path stretches all the way to Concón, which has a relaxed surf-town feel.

I’ve become somewhat transfixed by the pelican colonies, of which there are many. One rock in particular has captured my attention. The lower level is occupied by a small group of seals, while the upper level is home to the pelicans. I find myself sitting on the wall watching them at least three times a day.

We booked a tour of Valparaíso for Saturday. Our host assured us it was the safest way to see the “Jewel of the Pacific” and cultural capital of Chile. Before the opening of the Panama Canal, it was one of South America’s wealthiest cities, but it has faced difficult times since then and has well-documented safety concerns. As our guide, a proud local, was quick to point out, the people are fighting back.

We took one of the funiculars up to the old town. There are more than fifteen of them, though if you prefer to walk, there are plenty of staircases to choose from. The old town oozes bohemian culture, with steep streets and colourful houses, and vibrant murals that bring the place to life. Our guide seemed to know all the artists, who make up a large part of the local community. I even bought a small painting.

We finished the day with a late lunch at an unassuming restaurant, where the excellent chef was the son of a local fisherman. It was easily the best meal we’ve had since arriving in Chile.

https://www.airbnb.co.uk/rooms/5833181?unique_share_id=8d77e26c-73d0-4683-a60b-3e021c41adec&viralityEntryPoint=1&s=76

It was an early start for us, with our guide picking us up at 6:30am. The desert is cold in the morning. Our first stop, about an hour from San Pedro, was a small village where breakfast had been prepared. After a short stop, we headed off to our first national park and the Chaxa Lagoon to look at the flamingos. It felt a little random at first, but the salty conditions provide the perfect habitat for the shrimp that make up the flamingos’ staple diet. The flamingos here are white rather than pink, which apparently comes down to what the shrimp feed on.

The Chileans take their custodial responsibility for the land very seriously. Rachel wasn’t allowed to open her sun umbrella yesterday in one of the parks, as it might disturb the birds, and today there was no talking once we were beside the salt lakes.

Our guide and driver had become particularly interested in one of the more than ninety volcanoes in the region. This one, known to be the most active in the north and aptly named “Tongue of Fire,” was close enough for a detour, so we all agreed to deviate from the programme to take a closer look. It was an exciting diversion and, perched on higher ground, very humbling. The wind up here always blows in the same direction, so the smoke drifts across the border into Argentina, which the local guys found amusing.

We stopped briefly at the marker for the Tropic of Capricorn, but what Dani, our guide, pointed out was far more interesting. Stone paths created by the Incas, surprisingly intact, run through this harsh terrain and across Chile, with some even stretching all the way to Machu Picchu. It must have been quite a walk.

As we climbed higher into the Andes, the landscape began to change. Small farms appeared in grassy valleys, and we started to see more wildlife. First came wild donkeys, healthy-looking too, then alpacas and llamas, both domesticated by man, which I never knew. Only the vicuñas, which resemble smaller alpacas, are truly wild. We also spotted the occasional emu-like bird and vultures circling overhead.

Our final stop was the Salar de Talar, one of the most northerly parks and only a stone’s throw from Bolivia, at around 4,300 metres. We had come to see the surreal Piedras Rojas, the Red Stones, created by volcanic activity and subsequent iron oxidation. There are beautiful bodies of water in the area, rich in minerals, one of which is lithium. The milky deposits, set against the sky, turn the water a soft pastel green.

We spent a good hour wandering among the rocks along the designated red paths, taking time to marvel at the beauty of the place. It was a long day, but we were glad to have spent time in the Andes, mountains that have been ever-present since arriving here in Chile.

Our first move in Santiago wasn’t one of our easiest. We just couldn’t seem to decide where to go next. We’d only booked our initial week’s stay in the city, which has become our usual approach and has mostly worked well, but in Chile it proved more challenging. All the places we wanted to visit made it difficult to find acceptable accommodation with good internet for Rachel.

Chile is the longest country in the world, roughly the width of the US, and it works in reverse to the northern hemisphere. The south, essentially Patagonia, is cold, and the north is roastio. Unfortunately, Patagonia will have to wait for another trip.

After much deliberation, we chose the Atacama Desert. We’d already selected our excursions, and my brilliant contact had organised the rest. I tried to get clever by booking the flights through Booking.com, which offered a discount as I’d also reserved the hotel through them. But when I arranged our airport transfer, I discovered my flights didn’t line up. It turns out I’d mistakenly booked 5–9 March instead of 5–9 February. It could have been worse, but I had to cancel and rebook the flights.

Once we’d checked our luggage and sailed through immigration (domestic flights really are easier), we boarded the plane. About two hours later, we landed in Calama, a purpose-built town, as most are in the Atacama Desert. Shortly after, we were on the transfer bus carving our way through the barren landscape, and about an hour later we arrived in San Pedro de Atacama. It looked like a town made of half-finished buildings, assembled from every material imaginable.

We stayed at La Estación Lodge, on the edge of town—close enough to everything, but far from the noise. The entrance was just a door on a dusty street. Everything here is dusty, but as I kept reminding myself, it’s the desert. We were met by our fantastic host, Xiaolin, who had helped me arrange all our trips.

Our small suite was surprisingly comfortable. We even had air conditioning, which is rare in a place that runs entirely on renewable energy. It felt like we’d been travelling for most of the day, but I’d booked a night walk in the desert. Our guide picked us up along with a young friend of his who was practising her English, and their very well-behaved dog, Caramello. We walked through sand and dried-up riverbeds, learning about the area as we went. Eventually we stopped under the stars and sat around a small fire before heading back and collapsing into bed.

The next morning we had time to ourselves, so we wandered around the small town. At its centre is a church that has stood for more than 500 years, with the surrounding streets created afterwards. The place had a really nice vibe, with surprisingly good restaurants and shops selling locally made goods. We found a great coffee shop too.

Our guide arrived just before 3pm to take us to the Salt Lagoon. First, though, we hiked through one of the canyons, where we were met with spectacular views of the surrounding area and the Andes. The day ended with a float in one of the salt lagoons. I hadn’t expected to enjoy it so much. Rachel’s the spa girl, I can take it or leave it, but this was a fantastic experience. You can’t really swim in it. You just lie back and float in water that’s around 18 degrees, which after a day under the desert sun was a welcome relief. Looking out over the Andes with only the sound of the water in your ears was, for me, the highlight of the day.

Apparently we were lucky. First, the moon wouldn’t rise until after 11pm, and second, it was a cloudless night. Around 8:30pm, with the light fading, we set off for our Tour Astronómico. Rachel and I love the stars, so this was one of the main reasons for coming to the desert, which is said to be one of the best places in the world for stargazing.

Our astronomer for the night was Simon, a passionate Chilean who was in his element sharing his knowledge. We’ve been on several astronomy tours, but we’ve never seen anything quite like this. Apparently, the stars in winter are even more impressive, but these were still incredible, including some only visible in the southern skies, namely the southern cross. It’s always fascinating to watch how quickly they move over the course of a night. Simon talked for hours to a captivated audience, and we ended with views of stars and planets through the telescope.

The following afternoon was spent in Moon Valley, supposedly named by a Belgian priest who, despite never having been to the moon, thought the landscape looked like it. The name stuck. We walked the trails through the dunes and out into rocky terrain where salt was once mined by small groups. Some of their dwellings can still be seen today. It must have been gruelling work.

https://www.booking.com/Share-pF1jNO

The flight left Heathrow a little later than our 10pm scheduled departure, but we quickly made ourselves comfortable. After a light dinner, which was very good, we settled in. We both tend not to eat too much when we fly, especially on long-haul, but we’d had a busy week beforehand and were both pretty tired. So, after stretching out, duvets pulled up and blinkers on, we drifted off. I managed about six hours, Rachel slightly longer. Two gold stars for BA. Breakfast was good too.

After nearly fifteen hours, we touched down in Santiago and caught our first glimpse of the Andes Mountains. About thirty minutes later, our Uber driver dropped us at our Airbnb in Las Condes, right in the middle of the business district. We took it easy for the first few days while we reset our body clocks.

First impressions of where we’re staying: the apartment is comfortable, and the area is full of shiny new high-rises, with well-kept, tree-lined streets in between. I’m not much of a shopper anymore, but there’s a cool, modern, black warehouse-looking building just across from us called MUT (Mercado Urbano Tobalaba). It’s where local brands and delicious produce are showcased in a mix of swanky boutiques and purpose-built stalls spread over three main levels. The lower floor is all about food from around the world. There’s even a raclette house. I went most days to pick up fresh fruit and veg.

Rachel’s busy with work, so aside from our morning coffee at Milk, a great little coffee bar, and a stroll in the early evening, it’s been fairly slow-paced. Watching the business crowd unwind in the restaurant districts or head to the parks to relax has been interesting to see. The temperature has been hovering around thirty degrees, but it feels much hotter.

One evening, we stumbled across an outdoor concert. I think we’d both expected pan pipes or something similar, so we were surprised when Los Beetles took to the stage, complete with bowl haircuts and matching suits. They were actually very good, and we ended up staying for most of their set.

With the metro just a stone’s throw away, we headed downtown for a day exploring the sights and getting a better sense of Chile’s early history at the National Museum. From there, we wandered into the Museum of Art and then into the bohemian quarter for a great lunch and a mooch around one of the parks. Music and dance are a strong part of Chile’s cultural identity, and we saw it passionately expressed throughout our time in Santiago.

The best place to get a sense of Santiago’s size, framed by the Andes, is from San Cristóbal Hill. We took the cable car up (we did walk down though). Since it was a Sunday, the live church service and singing were piped around the summit, accompanied by church bells as we walked, which really added to the experience. It felt like a kind of pilgrimage for many. We stepped inside the small area beneath the statue of the Virgin Mary, and there was definitely a certain energy to the place. Unfortunately, the clouds moved in and we didn’t get a clear outline of the Andes, but the views out across the city were still a bonus.

Having organised the trip before Christmas, the time had come for me to head to Gatwick. With no one around to drop me at the train station, I jumped in a cab for the short ride. Rachel had arranged her own adventure at the same time, heading to Iceland with Mum, complete with a list of fantastic excursions.

I arrived at the station early to avoid any last minute stress, but it’s been a while since I’ve taken a UK train. I hadn’t realised that once the doors close, they don’t reopen, and the train leaves regardless of who’s left standing on the platform hurling abuse at it. Fortunately, they run often, so it wasn’t a big deal.

Christien and I met up, and after dropping our luggage, we boarded a full but uneventful flight to Geneva. With bags in hand, we picked up the car and headed off. After about an hour and forty five minutes, we arrived at my cousin’s apartment in Crans-Montana. It’s always great to see her and catch up with the family. I learnt to ski here, and so did Seb and Christien.

After a delicious risotto that Sansan had kindly prepared, and a good catch up, we turned in for the night.

The following morning, after breakfast, we set off for Les Violettes and took our first ride up to around 1700 metres. We started with a short run to loosen the legs before heading further up to Plaine Morte at 3000 metres, which is as high as you can go here. Lunch on the mountain has become a bit of a tradition. While there are plenty of places to eat, the Cabane des Violettes remains a favourite for both the food and the views across the Alps.

After a relaxed lunch, the afternoon light had started to fade, and I’d left my whiteout goggles at the apartment. We took it easy, knowing Seb was arriving from St Gallen later that evening. After picking him up from the station, the four of us headed to a great little restaurant that specialises in Valaisan cuisine.

I really enjoy the skiing, but I also love spending time with the boys, and watching them enjoy each other’s company as well.

The next morning brought clear blue skies, which made for a fantastic day as we skied from Cry d’Er across to Aminona. It was one of those memorable days on the slopes. Seb had been talking about raclette all day, so that evening we went to Château Villa, known for its five-cheese raclette with cheeses from the Rhône Valley. Christien went for the meats. It was a great meal and a lovely atmosphere.

Sunday followed a similar pattern. The three of us were completely in our element, with Christien leading the charge down the mountain. I’m still more comfortable at the back of the pack, but I don’t mind. We finished with a final top-to-bottom run, legs burning and feet completely numb from the ever uncomfortable ski boots. I had some custom ones made years ago, but they still hurt.

That evening, we joined my aunt and cousins for a family get together in Montana, followed by a lantern-lit walk around an icy golf course.

On our last morning, we had one final ski in perfect sunshine. The slopes were quiet, the snow was fresh, and it was a lovely way to end the trip. A few wonderful days, full of good skiing, good food, and great company.