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Published: September 28th 2011
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Our journey into Argentina began much as any other (journey, that is, neither of us having been there before) – a long walk to a quiet bus stop in the cold grey light of a Chilean dawn. Even I was cold, but not as cold, perhaps, as the shivering puppy curled up in a plant pot at the terminal. I suspect the drive up through the Lakes District to the border was beautiful. Not sure though – we we...
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