Homeward bound, here at Ministrio Pistarini international airport, as we prepare to travel to a city still in profound shock. The atrocity at the Manchester Arena abruptly hit the media here in Argentina mid evening - we are four hours behind you. Jacqui and I then had the surreal experience of following events on the other side of the world in real time - as if Tarleton, where one of the young victims lived, was just down the road from our hotel. All this in total contrast to the isolation experienced by those pioneering missionaries to Argentina, even just a generation ago. Rachel Leake, wife to Bishop David and Andrew's mother, did not hear that her own mother had died until well after th

" Here in Salta," I commented to Sheila, "everyone seems to be a character." Her immediate response: "You need to be a character to live here!" And she's right. For here in the foothills of the Andes, in northern Argentina, the attitude at this altitude is one of resilience. Some remarkable people, like our hosts Andrew and Maria Leake: the kind of people who keep on keeping on. We met one such character this week, an Argentinian - and like me ordained into the Anglican ministry. Juan Carlos Susa, just a couple of years younger than me and now into a unique and remarkable ministry. Maybe you can guess the context of his ministry from the first part of his email address: mulliganargentina@

“Sometimes I arrive," reflects photographer Ansel Adams, "just when God's ready to have someone click the shutter." We had only been in Salta some 18 hours when we were ushered into the personal conference room of the President of the Legislature of the province of Salta. Our mission partner, Andrew Leake, was about to give a key presentation on the effects of deforestation and how this has devastated the lives of the indigenous people. I found myself sitting at the far end of the table alongside a woman about my age who (and now it gets seriously weird) recognised me from her visit to Christ Church, Aughton some ten years ago. Sheila explained that even though she had been living in Salta

One fun-seeking tourist in Majorca was asked did she know where about in the world she was. She replied that she simply got on the plane at Manchester – and that’s about all she knew. I know the feeling, having just got onto a plane at Manchester and then a few hours later onto another plane at Paris. And here we are flying through the night. We could be anywhere. I’d like to think we are en route to Buenos Aires. Of course, there are alternatives. As I explained a few weeks back we are retracing the steps of Alfred Leake, the grandfather of our mission partner Andrew Leake whom along with Maria we will be visiting in Salta, in the far north of Argentina. When Alfred travelled to