Purmamarca, in the northwest of Argentina, reminded me of Cuzco, Peru. Both in the South American Andes, both near 4,000 metre peaks (and then some), both around some specky scenery.
But in Purmamarca, even as I walked around the market, no-one hassled me. In Cuzco, a walk down the main streets and I was always put under pressure to pay for something.
You want dinner? You want massage? You want your shoes shined?
‘But I’m wearing sneakers!’
