I went to the small tour company in town whose flyers were everywhere, to see what trips they did. The woman at the desk barely looked away from her computer as I ran through the list – NO not that one. And no we’re not doing that one either. Possibly something tomorrow. That’s another similarity Humahuaca has with Bolivia, the bolshiness of the service industry. I was thousands of kilometres from Patagonia in every sense. Can’t be bothered said her body language and nor could I.
I decided to take myself on tour instead. I’d met a friendly man at a small lunch joint who sulked for a little when I told him I was English (the Falklands) but otherwise we chatted away. Pasiendo? (passing through) he asked. Yes I replied. Have you been to Coctaca? he asked.
I decided to take myself on tour instead. I’d met a friendly man at a small lunch joint who sulked for a little when I told him I was English (the Falklands) but otherwise we chatted away. Pasiendo? (passing through) he asked. Yes I replied. Have you been to Coctaca? he asked.
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