Saturday 18th September. Ok Dana, stop stressing, you are in Paradise.

Trying to use the phone and/or internet in this place is a f***ing nightmare. A very hit and miss internet connection is available at some posadas for $20 an hour! I've been trying to confirm our flights to Peru and no-one can give me the correct number for the airline. The one I have isn’t working. They got all secretive about it. One chap actually said ‘hold on, I’ll get my friend’. Said friend arrived and told me he wasn’t allowed to give me that information!! What the hell?? I tried, unsuccessfully for about three hours last night. Hopefully it will be ok.

We went to an island called Cala Di Agua today. Lush in a word. I've never seen anything like it. The beach ends in a thin strip of white sand about 5 meters in width and widens out to a beach of about 40 meters in width. To one side were rolling waves and gentle surf while the other side offered tabletop calm, clear water. It was perfect. The tip of the point ended, like a pier, in the sea pointing towards the next island. We walked past the tip and into the sea. Making sure we remained in the turquoise strip of water ahead we walked to the next island. Novel. The water only ever came as high as my waist. If ever you could imagine a Paradise island this would be it. No herons or pelicans to be seen, but lots of black gulls, frigates and lots of little birds I do not know the name of. I know that I have been spoiled rotten. I will never truly enjoy any another beach again.

We left the island at about 3pm to go to Los Mosquis. I don't need to tell you where the name originated - I was eaten alive within seconds of setting foot ashore. The only thing on the island is a turtle reserve. They look after baby turtles until they are about a year old and then let them back into the sea. One of my aims achieved already - well almost anyway. I saw lots of very cool turtles but not in the wild. It was a bit unsettling though because I had just finished the chapter in Life of Pie where he describes how to butcher a turtle. I think I really would need to be on death's door before I ate one of those beautiful creatures.

A few days ago we went camping on Crasqui - another of the islands in the archipelago. Talk about Heaven and hell. The beach during the day was stunning. There were so many seabirds it was amazing. Every now and again they would swamp one tiny area of water in a complete frenzy. All sorts of birds in a big bundle if you like. Swooping repeatedly into the water and hovering low and screeching the place down. It was amazing to watch, Apparently it happens when a huge fish comes along and tries to eat the little fish. They jump out of the water to try to escape the fish, only to be met by a mass of hungry beaks. Silly fish. Great show.

Here we were in Paradise with our trusty old tent and a whole day and night to look forward to on our very own island. It was just us and the family that have the only building and the sole restaurant on the island. The Milky Way - clear as a bell in the night sky. We had set up our tent close to some bushes in an attempt to get some shade. Big mistake. We’d just seen the last shimmer of a fantastic sunset when I noticed a cloud in the distance that was heading towards us rapidly. ‘What on Earth?’ The minute the sun went down they were upon us and they charged. Mosquitos – millions of them! We had to run into our tent. By this time everybody bar the restaurant owners had left the island. We were both slaughtered. - despite all the Deet we had smothered ourselves in. My back still hasn't recovered. It didn't get any better. Sleeping was damn near impossible. In fact, take out the damn near. It was down right awful. It was searing hot, there was sand in the tent which stuck to you like spiked glue and no air. Opening the front of the tent allowed a million more mozzies in. I didn't sleep all night.

In the morning - Paradise found. A table flat sea. A David Attenborough nature documentary happening live. A thousand different fish clearly visible from the shore. No-one on the beach except for us. Wow.

We moved the tent to the point of the island. It took us ages to put up, because it was so windy. This will be much better. I'll definitely sleep tonight. Yeah, right. We had a lush day just lolling around and come nightfall settled down to another horrendous, sleepless, sweaty, sticky, sandy, mozzie bitten, yuk, crap, I'm never camping again, what the fuck happened to all that wind??, night.

The strong wind that had made putting the tent up a real ordeal that morning had vanished. It didn't come back until about 4am. I tossed, turned, sweated and scratched until then and finally went to sleep at about 5. An hour later I woke up to Tim shouting "What the fuck are you doing???" at the top of his voice. I nearly jumped out of my hot, half eaten skin. He had woken up to find a man's face staring into the tent. We went out to look for him but he had scarpered into the bushes. The people from the restaurant said they would try to find out who it was, but I spoke to a lady back in Gran Roque later that day who lives in Crasqui. She was convinced that it was one of the people who owned the restaurant. They had been feeding us for the past three days. It made me shiver, but it's forgotten now.

That day ended well. On the way back the people of Los Roques were celebrating the last day of the fiesta. Sep 15th. There were hundreds of boats, each carrying a statuette of the Madonna parading around the archipelago. It was sheer madness. In addition to the Madonnas, the boats all had loud blaring salsa or techno music and were completely overcrowded with drunken locals of all ages. And I mean drunken! We watched them all come back - hundreds of boats - people spilling out of them - some unable to stand straight, some belly flopping into the water. The party continued in the Plaza Bolivar until 1am. We of course were shaking our hips with the best of them.

Having a chilled one tonight. Need to sort stuff out for Peru and Tim is in a grump anyway because he can't drink any alcohol. He's on antibiotics to cure an infection in his foot which he picked up during the floods caused by the hurricane. He's starting to get worryingly too used to that bloody Venezuelan rum.

We’ve met some really lovely people. I bumped into Robbie - one of the boys that works at one of the posada's on day one. I was walking around the island in dismay, because I had to pay for the posada in full and could not find anywhere to change my traveller’s cheques. He took me to about 10 posadas trying to get them changed for me. Eventually we managed to convince one owner to accept a few of them as a one off and found one place - Oscar shop, who would change them for us. Robbie became a mate - a quiet, loving, caring boy he turns wild at fiesta time. I will never forget him and an 'amiga' simulating oral sex on the dance floor of the Plaza Bolivar, all in the name of Salsa. We gave him our tent. After years of being sludged in Glastonbury mud, we figured it deserved to be retired on the most beautiful beach I have ever seen.

I’ve already mentioned Ali and Damian. After the horrible Brits left we spent a really nice night with them. Ali really makes me laugh. She reminds me a little of Jamie Lee Curtis. Damien is cut straight out of a magazine gorgeous, but gloriously, he has no idea, or least doesn’t play on it. They’ve been living in London for 4 years and now they are doing this trip before heading home. The met in the UK. He’s from Tazmania, she’s from Perth. Same country but a world away from one another. At the moment they are trying not to think of what happens when they reach the end of their trip – both want to go back to their homes. We are hoping to meet them in Sydney in December - provided they are able to shake off that horrid Brit couple who left saying they hoped to bump into us again….horror.

Richard - Essex Geezer - at the end of an 8 month trip of South America. Typical Essex bloke – bit of a tosser, but an ok one if you know what I mean. Best mates with Tim within minutes. I'm sure we'll see him again when we get home. I wonder whether he’ll ever get laid.

Gabriel and Anjelica - Venezuelan couple who were selling trips, snorkelling equipment etc. They became really firm friends. Gabriel’s hoping to come to work in the UK for a year. It would be lovely to see them again. We spent a day at the beach with their family and they ended up seeing us off at the airport. They might meet us in Caracas if they manage to get a flight back. If not we will definitely keep in touch.

There’s something really unusual about the dogs here. This is going to sound really odd, but ask anyone who’s been backpacking to Los Roques and they’ll tell you it’s true. We thought it was just us…maybe Venezuelan dogs liked our scent or something, but no, we weren’t the chosen ones. All the back packers we met had a similar story:

Every single dog on the island had somehow managed to get into their doggy minds that they have to protect non locals at all times. This might sound incredulous, but it really is true. They would walk up to you and follow you all the way home, looking about and then once you were in they would leave with no problem. Next morning they might turn up again, but wouldn’t really show interest beyond a quick stroke. As soon as it got dark however…..Now everyone knows not to feed a stray dog if you want to see that back of him. Protector, as we named our new pet, didn’t even seem interested when we offered him food. He was well fed enough. (Apart from one time where he almost did a somersault in the air when we gave him ice cream). He attached himself to us for a week or so. One night he was sat at our feet while we were on the beach having a spliff. Protector snarled at anyone who came anywhere close. At one point Gabriel and Anjelica turned up and we had to stand in front of him to assure him it was ok. He saw us off at the airstrip. I'm not joking. He seemed to know the point on the beach where he was no longer allowed to follow us and while everyone else said goodbye to friends we were saying goodbye to a flea bitten mut. Maybe they do it because they know they get the odd ice-cream. Who knows.

Before we leave this lush little place there’s one last bit of loveliness that I have to tell you about. Pancho. He deserves his very own chapter. The coolest parrot in the world. He lives in our posada. He flies round like he owns the place. Did I say ‘like’? I’m delighted to say that he doesn’t have a cage – he sleeps on the window porch. However his wings have been slightly clipped which is sad. Poncho not only says, ola to everyone that walks by the posada, he also say 'hello' repeatedly to anyone on a mobile phone. When the owner is in sight he mocks her by screeching his name in various rising degrees of distress- "Pancho, Paancho, Paaaanchooo, PANCHO!!!!", then cackles a laugh. He wolf whistles – at anyone he fancies and barks like a dog - seriously – when he sees a dog. One morning we found him I in our room trying to drag Tim’s hiking boots out of the door. He adores lime, loves sunglasses and shoe laces, loves having his neck scratched and eating marmalade (cheekily off our plates at the breakfast table). We are going to miss you Pancho.