Buenos Aires (Argentina) - end of the line

All great journeys must come to an end and there are worst places for such a finale as Buenos Airies. This is really one hell of city. Culture, architecture, art, shopping, dining and a bar scene to rival a European capital (think Paris), but with a Latin American passion and vibe - all rolled into one.

Just two full days here was really, really not doing it justice, especially as part of that was spent being ill. I walked a lot around the old centre, strolled along Calle Defensa with its antique scene and romantic cafes and hung out in La Boca (the old, colourful port district and home of tango - originally started by a bunch of sailors and prostitutes it seems). Naturally, I kept the steak eating and wine drinking pace up, despite a stomach problem. Standards remained very high.

On my last day, by amazing coincidence, it was the Super-Classico of football: Boca Junior and River Plate, the bitter local rivals, playing a derby fixture. Despite the outrageous cost of a ticket, of course I had to go. Never before have I seen rain like the day of the game, although hours queuing outside in this torrential downpour all seemed worthwhile when finally we made it into the ground. It was a cauldron of intense passion unlike anything I have seen before. The chosen member of the elite supporter crew are sung into their seats and bowed before, as a sequence of giant flags - as big as half a football pitch - are unfurled in turn. Orchestral movements of singing and chants echo througout the stadium. Away fans at the top of the stadium urinate on their rivals below. Everything you can get your hands on is ripped up and flung into the air and on the pitch. Total, absolute madness. But then came the complete downer. After 9 minutes of play on the waterlogged pitch, with heavily weighted passes moving no further than a foot or two and players unable to run, the game was called off. A nightmare and not a great end to a big trip. But I am not short of great memories to fall back on. No sir, I am not.

Salta (Argentina) - taste of Europe

Crossing the border from Bolivia into Argentina, I expected a more dramatic difference right away. From one of the continents poorest countries to one of the most developed. Yet, the slightly shady border town of La Quiaca was barely different from it's northern neighbour. From there it was a beautiful bus ride along the side of multicoloured mountains, through charming little villages - we stopped in all of them. Bit-by-bit the landscape changes and the charm starts to increase. Rural buildings become quaint, not run-down; cafes look inviting, not decrepit; and even the bus vendors are selling tasty treats, rather than scary-looking fried montrosities.

Once in Salta itself, a 7 hour ride, it really felt I'd left South America. The taxi ride to the hotel took us down boutique, cafe and tree lined streets, much more reminiscent of Europe. That said, with the exception of the cable car, the only significant thing I did in less then 24 hours in this town was very Argentinian. A fine, fine meal of steak and red wine in a local institution, La Monumental. My lord, the meat is good here. I couldn't eat it every meal, but it is damn tasty.

Uyuni (Bolivia) - mind blowing

Taking a three day tour around the Salt Plains of Uyuni and beyond was arguably the most incredible thing I have done this trip. In fact, the scenery is possibly the most stunning I have ever seen. A big call. Imagine, for example, a stunning desert island covered in cactus, sitting under the most blue of skies. Then picture that it is surrouned by a gigantic, bright-white salt plain that stretches 200km one way and 180km in the other direction. Neither words nor photos do justice to this landscape. And that was just one of the sights on day one.

We set off in a Toyota Landcruiser from the shady town of Uyuni after having arrived by train the previous night. Over the course of three days, the scenery changed every hour or so. One minute a giant salt plain, the next lakes of blue, then red, then green, followed by giant snow capped mountains, with ridges of seven or more colours, huge fields of boulders shaped like trees and finally the 'desierto de Dali' which was clearly an inspiration for his surreal landscapes. All along the way were wild llamas, cute vicuñas, ostriches (or something similar) and incredible flamingoes. The tour took us to the Chilean border crossing, which was the most run-down, remote, barren example of it's kind I have ever witnessed, before trudging back to Uyuni itself. Great food, except on the last day, and a fantastic tour guide. A 'must do' for me.

La Paz (Bolivia) - highest everything

The journey to the highest global capital, across the Andean plain, was a treat in itself. Snow capped mountains, clear blue lakes and llamas everywhere. Once there, the city is geographically pretty interesting. A sprawling city trapped in a divot between mountains and ridges, with views of peaks all around. That said, it's a bit of a dump and the smattering of colonial buildings, surrounding by less elegant modern offerings, do not put it in the league of a Lima or Quito.

Wandering around at the hilly streets at that height is tricky and I wasn't feeling the best. So, apart from the obvious, obligatory visit to Bar Ruta 36 (enough said about that) and a curry in the world's highest indian restaurant, all I really did was shop. My most treasured purchase was a painting by the internationally exhibited artist xxxx. It feels a bit wrong bargaining with the man himself (imagine trying it in Australia), but a reduction from $450 to $220 is not to be sneezed at. After that, I assembled a huge collection of scarfs, t-shirts and hats, in an attempt to find something for everyone who helped me get away 13 months ago. Unfortunately, the size of the haul meant the only bag I could find to fit it all in, was a hippy-style, cloth guitar case. For my last 10 days, there is every chance of me being mistaken for an Argentinian busker.

Copacabana (Bolivia) - gorgeous lake titicaca

At 3,812 metres above sea level, Lake Titicaca is the highest navigable waterway in the world (not sure what that means) and a cultural treasure. After a long days travel and another border crossing, I arrived at the waters edge on the Bolivian side just in time for sunset. On the face of it, this is just another big lake. But something about the altitude gives it a shimmering glow that is difficult to describe.

The following day, a group of us headed out to La Isla del Sol, a 90 minute ride from the village in a squashed and painfully slow boat. Climbing to the highest point of the southern part of the island was hard work, though it is not really that high at all. God only knows what it is like climbing at 5,000 or 6,000 metres. The view at the top of the pre-inca (there was stuff before those guys?) staircase is, unsurprisingly, divine.

What was not so divine, in my first few days in Bolivia, was the food. After the delights of Peru, the local fair has slipped back to the standards of Central America. A little bit like the calibre of local beauties.

Arequipa (Peru) - travelling in style

The buses in Peru are amongst the best I have seen in the world. Certainly a vast step up from those in Australia, USA or England. From Lima to Arequipa, a journey of 16 hours, I splashed out on the 'super cama' (actually only $40 or so). A fully flat (180 degree) leather recliner, plus a dinner and breakfast service, meant I arrived pretty fresh.

Arequipa itself is a lovely spot, without anything hugely distinctive to note. Though, if I am saying that about a gorgeous colonial town, flanked by snow capped volcanoes and with a perfect climate, it may be time to head home.

One point of distinction is the food in this part of Peru, which again over delivered. It took a bit of time to track down one of the famous 'picanterias' (there are none in the city centre), but once there it was all worthwhile. La Nueva Palomino was definitely the place to be eating. This restaurant of 200 seats, crammed with local families, served up a fantastic spread of local food, the highlight being rocoto relleno, a huge chilli stuffed with meat, onion, eggs and spices. Very spicy and delicious. A definite item for Café Bolivar, Sydney.

Lima (Peru) - culinary delight

It is probably worth couching this entire entry with the observation that I have been eating, for the last year, in some of the world's culinary low-spots. From the rice and beans of Central America, to Colombia's greasy fair, it is not like I arrived in Peru from Tuscany. However, the leap in cooking standards was marked.

My favourite restaurant, with four seperate visits, was El Muelle: a feast of seafood brilliance. Here for just over $10, two or three people could share a huge platter of ceviche, octopus salad, deep fried calamari, seafood rice, dressed scallops and a few other things I couldn't really describe. Arguably the best food I have eaten in 12 months. Naturally it was all best washed down with a bottle of Inka Cola.

I also visited one branch of the Rustica chain which specialises in Peruvian staples. At a buffet there, I tried probably 25 different entrees and main courses (none of which I knew the names), plus the stock dessert: arroz con leche (rice pudding) served with mazamorra morada (erm... like a fruit jam jelly).

Otherwise, the standard Latin American 'menu del dia' is also offered here in Peru (soup, main course, desert and a drink). Except that here is a treat with a huge variety of options, rather than a necessity of a limited budget. All in all, any thoughts I had of a South American themed restaurant have been quickly reduced to a Peruvian one. Just need to learn how to cook it.