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I was glad that she had been there near me, but now I simply didn't care to see her, and I didn't think I would be able to bring myself to touch her again.

I liked La Paz but wanted to return to Peru the next day. I could already picture myself at Machu Picchu. Every nomad knows the feeling: longing for every place he must leave mingled with anticipation of a new destination, always certain that the next place will be even better, even lovelier.

I walked in the direction of the Rosario Hotel, hoping to find Marcus and tell him that I was leaving.

'The Swiss hasn't come back yet,' the clerk said. Marcus and Annick had gone to Coroico in the Yungas Cloud Mountains. I asked him for paper and a pen. I was supposed to meet Lisette, a Bolivian girl, at five-thirty at the university to attend a Brazilian jazz concert. I asked Marcus to meet me there at five.

I left the hotel with a European-looking man close behind me. I had seen him around the hotel before.

'¡Hola!' he greeted me. 'You know the Swiss man, don't you?'

He had a German accent, was in his late thirties, tall – about five feet eleven inches – broad-shouldered, solidly built, with brown hair receding above the temples. His eyes, which were slightly crossed, were blue. His clothes, which were worn but not threadbare, gave him the air of an adventurer.