My Spanish remains puzzled at the best of times, so while half asleep I managed to work out that a couple were arriving later on and wanted the double bed in my room and would I mind going to the dorm room where there was only one other person anyway.

I went to the toilet while my bed was dragged from one room to the other and unprotestingly slipped back between the sheets to dream peacefully of big white mountains.

It was about midway when I finally got up, shaved, showered etc. and wandered back into town for a lazy Sunday afternoon and the chance to take some photos.

One of the main issues in the town is the proposal to build a mine nearby, something which has been met, unsurprisingly, with a huge graffiti and poster campaign everywhere. Some of the street artwork is quite inventive, so I took a selection of photos.

Remembering that it was Emma�s birthday, I tried to make a phone call to Cardiff, but no-one picked up.

I wandered round to the Welsh chapel again and came across the Pensioners Choir getting ready for their fund-raising tea and cakes afternoon in the Welsh Centre, and then bumped into Jayne on the street, so we went for a coffee and a chat.

After leaving Jayne to go and have some Sunday tea and cakes (ooh, scrummy), I headed to the antiquated former railway station to watch the steam train, La Trochita, leave Esquel on its daily voyage up through the mountains. Again, more photos as the ancient German and Belgian train puffed its way out of Esquel, full of families and children waving at each other through the windows.

As the train station was only up the hill from the bus terminal, I popped down to check the times to Trevelin and while there, went into the Telefonica to phone Emma (remembering that it was nearly 11 o�clock at home). She�d finally arrived home, so we had our first chat for more than a month, wishing her happy birthday and talking about our forthcoming trip to Buenos Aires.

I went back to the hostel for a while, and had a chat with some of the people staying there, before going out for dinner to a pizzeria called Dos-22 (no idea why, sounds like an old phone number) where I had a really nice Napolitana Special.

After eating, I headed back to the hostel again, this time for the night, having remembered that Habla Con Ella, a film by Pedro Almodovar, was being shown on the Cinema Channel on the tv. I sat there with a bag of crisps and a bottle of coke and managed to follow the story pretty well without the subtitles that I�d normally have had to prompt me, and then went off to bed at around midnight after a nice, relaxing day.