I was on my morning walk through San Pedro de Atacama, trying to orient myself to the town. The centre of the town is reasonably compact, once you get used
Rano Raraku, the sacred quarry of the Rapa Nui – the one with the Easter Island heads – was not yet open. I should probably have double-checked the opening times.
“Henna?” The banks of the Ganga were lined with woven umbrellas. There was a festival that day – I never found out exactly what. But it was the reason I
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