Somewhere near Cuernavaca, Morelos

Three hundred and some-odd kilometers from Acapulco, that's where we are. We left behind the sultry jungle air and the crashing of the surf, and we climbed the Sierra Madres. For a while, it seemed we had lost the palm trees, in favour of pines - but then the palms began to reappear, along with prickly pear and a cactus that may have been a saguaro. It looked as if someone had stretched a saguaro out so that it got really tall and skinny.

Seeing that cactus made me remember a conversation I had several years ago with my friend Lupytha, who managed the RV park where we stayed in Bahia Kino, Sonora. I asked her what a particular cactus was called in Spanish. She said "Cactus." Fair enough. What about that other one, the barrel cactus - what is that called? "Cactus. We just call them all cactus." Well, I guess that simplifies things!

Getting out of Acapulco turned out to be as easy as we hoped - if expensive. We traveled mainly on a toll road. I said at one point that it was an elegant road. It was smooth and straight, terrain permitting, and as we neared Cuernavaca there were plantings down the centre - dwarf palms and oleander. At least the tolls are well spent. The scenery was lovely. It reminded us what a huge country Mexico really is.

One odd thing was that we passed several towns along the way to which there were no exits. Nor were the names of the towns posted. I don't know how people get to or from those towns, but it certainly isn't via the toll road.

I was a little apprehensive when I saw what RV park Robin had chosen. It seems to be owned by the same people that own the place where we stayed last night. However, it is very quiet and pleasant. The park is nearly full of rigs, but we and the people next to us are the only campers in residence. I think the rest are permanent sites leased by people from Mexico City or thereabouts. We are near a village with a number of little shops selling fruits and vegetables, general groceries - and there's a tortilleria, where I bought half a kilo of corn tortillas, fresh off the press. The road from the village to the park reminds us both of places in England. There's a long, very tall stone wall right next to the road. It seems to surround an estate. Very English.

We've booked in for two peaceful nights in the mountains.