It's exactly a year since members of the Tupac Amaru guerrilla group stormed the Japanese ambassador's residence in the Peruvian capital Lima, taking several hundred guests hostage. Seventy-two were held for more than four months before all but one were rescued by special forces of the Peruvian army. But, visiting the country one year on, the BBC's Nick Caistor decided to escape from the cut and thrust of Peru's politics by travelling down south to the traditional heartlands of the Inca Indians.

It was the sign above the door that intrigued me. "Jose Luis Quispe" it read: "metaphysical therapist". "Hypnotic sessions to cleanse the soul and renew spiritual vigour. Problems of the heart a speciality." I was in the city of Arequipa in the far south of Peru, and had an hour to spare. I was not particularly attracted to a conference on "camelids of the Americas"- the llamas and vicunas that are scattered through the foothills of the Andes which loom in the distance behind the city - I'd been put off by the elderly couples in their alpaca knitwear at the airport who had come as delegates, struggling to disengage themselves from the Hare Krishna disciples scouting for recruits - and so I thought I might give Mr. Quispe a try.

The south of Peru is one of those places to be found around the world that claim to attract psychic energy. There are the famous Nazca lines in the desert north of Arequipa, which some people claim must have been drawn by aliens. There are the mysteries of Cuzco and the Inca empire, all the indigenous wisdom and folklore now enjoyed mainly by the Japanese tourists and New Age Californians who have been returning to Peru since president Fujimori has succeeded in countering what he would term the "terrorist menace".

And the white city of Arequipa is also a spiritual centre. During the centuries of Spanish rule, it boasted one of the largest convents in South America, the Monasterio de Santa Catalina. This is in fact a city within a city, with its own geranium-lined streets, its balconies, kitchens, parlours and fountains.

Nowadays, there are only five nuns left inside its walls, but the convent still has an extraordinary atmosphere. Before I saw Mr. Quispe's sign, I had wandered round it for over an hour, trying to imagine the cloistered lives of its ghostly inhabitants. On the way out, I saw a stage was being prepared for a show of some kind. "Is there going to be a concert of religious music?" I asked one of the workmen innocently. No, it's a fashion parade for the llama conference," I was told. The llamas have always been used by the local Indian population for wool, milk and meat, but I have always had my doubts about the animals since one of them took obvious pleasure in spitting in my face, and this inability to escape them was perhaps what made me feel I needed a visit to the soul doctor.

Mr Quispe was a lanky young man with glasses and a great desire to please. He explained that the southern highlands of Peru have a special spiritual energy, which he could capture in his hypnotic sessions and use to penetrate the deeper layers of my psyche. He could also quite easily identify any hidden diseases I might be carrying, from love sickness to cancer. It was at this point that I became uncomfortable and took my leave. Well, he said he was very sorry, but could he have my e-mail address anyway just in case he came across anything of interest to me?

The couple I met for lunch would have nothing to do with this kind of mumbo-jumbo. They were products of the new Peru, and showed it. They drove a four-wheel drive jeep, and had their own e-mail up and running. Yet they were angry at the country around them, angry at President Fujimori for all he had not given them. And the more they spoke, the wilder their reasons became. Fujimori was not a real Peruvian, his parents were Japanese after all. Fujimori bought all the votes in the countryside - those people were not really Peruvian either. They couldn't read or write, or even speak Spanish properly. They shouldn't really be allowed to vote, should they? What - finally - did I think? Well, I said, I'm not sure, but I do know a good therapist...
 

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