No entiendo, he said with a puzzled face and a look of fear in his expression. The over-confident prick/a**hole had had the tables turned on his little charade. Not two minutes earlier the man had gotten into the front passenger seat of the taxi I had just hailed to get back to my residence. Asking for documentation, the driver duly obliged. The man proceeded with a mobile phone call to 'HQ', 'reporting' that the credentials were in order and asking me for my nationality and where I was staying. Turista? Agitated by the label, I bluntly replied: No, viajero/traveller. The man continued that a lot of foreigners were illegally working in the country (yeah, right, the wages are top notch in Bolivia), especially Americans and wanted to know if I was one of them. All the
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