‘I think he genuinely likes to pass on the traditions that, if his generation and the ones that follow stop sharing as guides, will die away. Then Peru and the Andes will be no different to the rest of the world. While we’re here we should learn all we can about their beliefs and their way of life, because, for me, that’s the beauty of being here – seeing what little nuggets I can take home with me. I don’t think we’re all going to go back and start adding guinea pigs to our Sunday roast menus, but we’ll definitely leave feeling inspired by some parts of their lives and will adjust ours in some way, maybe without even realizing. I think that’s what guides like Kevin love about talking to losers like us.’

‘He really is a talker,’ Zaza notes.

‘I ask a lot of questions,’ I laugh, aware of part of myself that’s felt hidden starting to free up. My interest for life. For living. ‘How do you think the others are getting on?’ I ask, wondering how different their view will be to ours and if their trail is, as Pia and I were once warned, far busier than this one.

‘Ooh. I had a weird pang of missing them then,’ she says, her hand on her chest while she looks confused by the feeling.

‘And you were reluctant to even mix with them!’ I remind her, knowing that friendships made on such trips are often formed quickly and intensely through the shared experience and everyone being away from their usual creature comforts.

‘We made friends,’ laughs Zaza.

‘I’m sure they’ll all be in one piece,’ Vicky smiles.

‘OK, I can’t actually control it any more,’ Zaza says, jumping to her feet. I watch as she pulls out a see-through pouch from her bag which appears to contain wipes, anti-bac gel and some sort of spray. ‘I’m off to use the loo. Wish me luck.’

‘So prepared.’

She looks down at the items in her hands and back up at me. ‘Fanny spray,’ she nods. ‘I like to feel fresh.’

‘Good to know.’

She chortles as she walks towards the blue Portaloo tent, turning to give us a comical grimace before stepping inside and zipping herself in.

Vicky and I laugh at the sight of our friend before lying back down on the ground.

‘Do you have suncream on?’ she asks.

‘I’m all right,’ I respond, remembering how much my blatant disregard for skin health used to upset Pia. I would say it was ironic that she’s the one who went on to get cancer after worrying so much about my health, but I’m not quite there yet. It wasn’t irony. It was pure shit.