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cheese, onion, and tomato sandwiches. Although we had only just met and despite the fact that I had plans of my own, Marcus started planning a trip we might take together.

‘I haven’t seen Machu Picchu yet,’ I explained, ‘so I’ll be heading back to Cuzco.’

‘No, no, come along with me to La Paz,’ he urged.

‘Machu Picchu,’ I said, ‘and then I’m planning to cut across Brazil. I’ve been thinking about leaving from Puerto Maldonado, not far from Cuzco, by way of the Madre de Dios River; it cuts through Peru and runs into the Amazon.’

From there my plan called for me to follow the Amazon to its mouth near Belém on the Atlantic coast. I traced the route on the map. ‘There are a lot of interesting little villages on the way, and anyway I love the jungle. Why don’t you come along with me?’

‘Thanks for offering. It sounds like a great plan, a real adventure, but I’m at the end of this trip. I’ll spend some time in La Paz, maybe take a few side trips, maybe buy up some handmade vests to ship back to Switzerland, but nothing very ambitious.’

We found Taquile different from other Peruvian villages, and it was easy to tell a Taquile islander from a Peruvian Indian. The island people seemed nobler, cleaner, handsomer, healthier. They dressed differently too. They all wore the same hat, the same chaleco (embroidered vest), and broad trousers with an embroidered belt. The embroidery of Taquile is