Cusco, in Peru, may as well have been Never Never Land because after 32 hours in buses trying to get there I was convinced we would never set foot in the high-altitude city. We could kiss the Incan ruins goodbye as far as I was concerned.

When we arrived in the Peruvian border town of Tacna we had been travelling for seven hours and our next bus wasn't leaving for another five hours. We killed time in the city centre where we had a couple of greasy lasagnas at a place called 'Pronto' and tried to avoid the keen shoe shiners.

Finally darkness fell and we took a taxi to the next bus stop. The bus was nothing like the luxury we were expecting from our trips in Brazil and Argentina but it was only 10 hours to Puno where we would have breakfast before the next bus. I woke at 6am when we were supposed to be arriving but we were still clearly in the middle of the countryside.

For two more hours the bus wound through some stunning scenery. Small rocky farmhouses sat in intensely green and yellow fields. There were donkeys, cows and goats and women working in the fields, their spectacular clothing standing out from a mile away. I loved the fact that there was no sign of globalisation here.

However, even that scenery got tedious as the bus avoided the kitchen sink sized holes in the road. When we finally reached Puno I was tired and starving but the scenes of daily life before me were pretty cool. Sadly, there was no time to stop. We had to go straight from the first bus to the second. I didn't mind really, thinking that at least this was the last part of the trip. What I didn't know at that point was that in Peru a six hour trip can easily turn into 10 and if the bus breaks down (which, of course, ours did) you're looking at more than 12.

With one bottle of water and no food, we sat speechless as the bus stopped for every Tom, Dick and Pedro. There was no apparent reason for at least half of the 50,000 stops we made. And then came the massive bang from below and the bus stopped for over an hour while its passengers sat on the side of the road watching desperately as it grew colder and colder. It finally got going but had to drive at dribble speed. I nearly lost the plot.

So after 32 hours, 500ml of water, two greasy dinners, one fit of tears (mine) and five oil-stained bus staff, we arrived in Cusco. We were like hyped-up children checking into our hotel. We screamed when we saw the plush double bed and clean room. The hotel owner shut the door quietly behind us. Better to leave those two lunatics to themselves, I'm sure she was thinking.

Check out more photos from my trip in my Flickr album.

Find out about Peru.

Read more of Kelly's blogs.