In Ushuaia, Argentina, the slums are above the rest of the city. There is a visible line where it changes; the last paved street runs horizonatally and muddy dirt roads branch off up the hill. The higher you get, the worse off the roads and houses are. Eventually, it gets so muddy that wooden pallets are put down in the hopes of making trails, and corrugated sheets of metal piled for bridges, attempts that fail as mud and dirty water is everywhere. Mutts and unleashed, free dogs run around, growling and barking if you come near, and they aren't the kind type of dogs you can pet; if you get too close, you will be attacked. I was bit on the back of the leg by a bastardly dog, but luckily it wasn't serious. I had
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