12.04.08 And where is Michael Crawford?

If not quite an oasis, Altai Oasis is certainly a very pleasant place to stay, especially if you like macaws, geese, cats, llamas and dogs without rabies. It’s a focal point for serious hikers, so we took the shortest trek available—5 or so hours to a cave and back. This was what I had left England for: a fabulous walk in the sun, some funny foreign business in the middle and then a huge steak at the end washed down by a pint or two of red wine. The walk was breathtaking along a dusty road through the hills. At the end was the cave, having paid our entrance fee, a 10-year-old boy seemed to apparate before us like an very underage Harry Potter and announced he was our guide. He confidently led us inside, wisely reciting information that turned out to be nonsense, and down to the lake, where for an extra fee our plastic pedalo awaited. The water reputedly continues its subterranean journey to Peru, we, however, turned round at the cave’s end and pedalled back like something out of slightly farcical Phantom of the Opera. Back outside, we opted for a drink and climbed the steep steps to the small bar, where our bar man was waiting: magically, the same small boy.