That meant a quick trip to the supermarket to pick up some more sweets and coke before going to the cyber cafe that Id been frequenting for the last few days.

Unfortunately, after explaining what I was trying to do, the girl on the desk explained that they couldnt do it.

I went to the next one along the street, where the similarly bemused girl on the counter said that they couldnt save the photos either, but recommended the one Id just been to. Grrr.

Not being put off, I went along to the next one on, where the girl clearly didnt have a clue, but was happy to let me try out for myself. I managed to hook the camera up to the computer, but it didnt have a CD rewriter so I was left hanging once again. Aaagh!

The easiest way, I decided, was to upload all of the photos directly to the internet, and then to save them to disk later on when back in Trelew. Not quite what I originally had in mind, but it was one way of keeping the photos and clearing the camera to take some shots of Trevelin, the Welsh village slightly further down the Andes.

As it was an Argentinian Bank Holiday, in memory of San Martin, the Liberator,the streets were quiet with everyone out ski-ing in La Hoya to the north of the town.

I had already decided that I wanted to see what Trevelin was like, but had the choice of taking the normal bus or a guided tour down the mountains. Having not booked ahead, I wandered up to the tourist office advertising the tours at the bus station, where I presumed that they would depart from.

I arrived early, about an hour before the advertised departure time, but found the travel agents closed. With nothing better to do, I sat around and watched the Olympics on the bus stations tv for an hour.

No tourist-style bus arrived, so I hung around for another half an hour until the regular bus to Trevelin arrived and got on that, sitting in a window seat and admiring the view for the half hour journey.

After arriving in Treveling, I made a bee-line for the tourist office in the main square, a very pretty circular plaza, and they pointed out the major tourist sights in the town for me.

I started off with a trip to Malacaras tomb and Grandfathers Museum, a collection of goods owned by John Daniel Evans and the burial place of the horse which saved his life when being attacked by some unfriendly Indians while scouting the area at the end of the nineteenth century.

I had already taken some photos and was about to leave when the tourist bus arrived and the owner of the museum, the granddaughter of John Evans, invited me to listen to her slightly idealised history of the Welsh colonisation of the region, where she described me as being "typically Welsh". Yeh, thanks, luv!

After the history lesson, I left the tourist group behind and went to the Molinero Halinero, an old Mill (once owned by J D Evans and others) and which is now the site of a regional museum showing the Welsh arrival in the region and changes over the years, as well as a whole range of machinery used in both agriculture and industry in Trevelin.

Time was getting on after the two museums, so I hot-footed it down to the Welsh chapel at the other end of the village, watching the bus arrive from Esquel as I went. I took some photos of the strangely isolated church with the Andes in the backdrop and of the Welsh house next door to it before being heading back towards town just in time to see the bus depart. Rats.

With no bus for at least an hour and hunger beckoning, I walked back towards the centre and went to Nain Maggies Casa de Te for some Welsh tea, where I sat in the warmth for an hour and a half munching on scones and apple cake.

After finishing my pot of tea, I mooched around Trevelin for another half hour until the bus arrived, then sat in the darkness of the coach, well, stood as there was a lady with a young baby in the aisle of the full bus, so I very gentlemanly offered to stand for half an hour and lurch from side to side on the bumpy road back to Esquel.

Upon arriving back, I noticed that the city was surprisingly dark, even for mid-evening and went to the Welsh centre to meet Jayne for dinner. However, as the centre was locked up, lights out etc., I went off for food on my own, going to a nice little pizzeria on one of the main streets, and then heading off to the hotel and watching The Mummy, dubbed into Spanish, before bed

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