From the Dancefloor to the Hot Tub...
March 5th 2007
"Huanchaco, Huanchaco!" comes the shrill cry from a young woman leaning periously out of the collectivo door. The bus is lined with trinkets of all descriptions and old and battered, it grumbles down the highway to the tune of poppy (annoying) Reggaeton.
"Huanchacho, Huanchaco!" Leaning my head against the window, I watch the Peruvian desert roll by, met onimously by the mighty
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