"Hold yer horses/llamas people!" the red-beared Goth shouted, his eyes a little wild, "I'm entering this race!"

Inspired, perhaps, by the Colombian marching powder I'd just purchased in an alley off the marketplace (which does seem to have made the day very bright and shiny and given me a vast amount of energy, confidence and enthusiasm) I was sweet talked into buying a llama and then told of the impending race.

With a knowing smile a race official lets me in the gate and asks my llama's name.

"He's a Chilean llama and his name is Presidente Salvador Allende! Down with Pinochet!" I shout, waving my startled llama above my head to the amusement/alarm of the onlookers.

Tally-ho!!