Treinta y seis.

San Pedro was just a bunch of tour operators and people wore shorts with sunglasses (yeah-yeah, I'm just trying don't use a phrase "another one overpriced-boring-bitchy-touristic-hole" very often). Grannie from DDR was happy to speak in Russian with smbdy after twenty years waiting. A Swiss guy, my roommate, watched Cheburashka Adventures. Everything was relaxing and enjoying. I bought tons of water, fish&nuts and left the commercial village. The second try to make a bargain" for tomorrow" with local people failed as the first one - truck driver I guess took the mind of immediately to meet together at 6 a.m. near billboard before departing to boarding instead of me. I was waiting almost two hours after that just shrugged and took my way to the hills. Anyway, on that day I had a lift by three cars, the last one drop me out at the boarding-point. Just in time, after climbing to 5000 meters altitude I've got sick in my head and felt in sleep in building hangar immediately, just one hundred yards from the border. The second day I drove through endless high-mountain deserts, and at sunset came to Susques, ugly tiny village with jolly people. Unknown machine man on gas-station lend me his mattress and even made a dinner for me, it was on of the touching things that I ever feel. A couple of days later I crossed The Andes completely. Unbelievably, but Purmamarca was more badly than San Pedro even. I recovered strength as fast as I could and dashed off to Jujuy.