The constitutional capital of Bolivia. Sucre. Another night bus from La Paz. Not the worst, though it could have been better. It was full of miners, all of whom had picked the aisle seats, meaning everyone else had to make do with sitting by themselves. The bloke next to me went to sleep almost immediately – he'd done this before. The bloke next to Klaire fiddled with his phone for a bit, then crashed. The older travellers had managed to score seats together – mum just played the Nintendo while dad slept. The kid behind Klaire, however, didn't sleep. He just kicked her chair. A lot. Only a short walk to the hostel, where, strangely, it was cheaper to pay up front than the customary next morning. Checked in, we wandered out to see what we
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