We shared a taxi back into the city and found a couple of rooms in a cheap hotel. My new friend – an archaeology student – then recommended a trip to the National Museum, so we spent the afternoon inspecting, as far as I remember, a seemingly infinite collection of badly-lit Inca pottery. When the museum closed, we walked along the cliff-top path overlooking a rather murky Pacific Ocean, and enjoyed a seafood feast in the fading evening light. Dining with a native Spanish speaker conveniently removed the usual barriers posed by monolingual menus and opened up a range of culinary possibilities I had never previously experienced. In fact, the evening was delightful until the point at which my companion – and I must admit I can no longer recall her name – realized that her passport was missing.