Reason #5: Because Peruvian men are as brazen as the rest

I was about to climb into the shower when I heard the knock at my hotel room.

“For goodness sake,” I grumbled.

It had taken us three hours to climb out of the Colca Canyon, near Arequipa. I was cold, tired and more than a little damp from the drizzle.

I yanked the door open to find our Peruvian guide, Roy.

“Everything okay senorita?” he said, his face softening. There were only four of us on the three-day hike – a British couple, Ros and Paul, Roy and I.

“Yes, everything is fine,” I grimaced impatiently.

“Listen,” he said quietly, peering into my twin room.

“They don’t have enough rooms here. Is it okay if we share?”

I was too drained to hear the alarm bell and, anyway, I was too British to protest.

“Fine,” I nodded.

“I need to take a shower.”

Ten minutes and several litres of hot water later, I was having doubts. The hotel had seemed extremely quiet when we’d arrived.

I emerged to find Roy’s rucksac on one of the beds but no sign of the guide.

The only person I could find was the hotel owner, David, in the kitchen.

“David,” I asked, in my most casual Spanish.

“Do you have other rooms here?”

“Oh yes,” he smirked.

“But Roy told me he wanted to share with you.”

Our diminutive 24-year-old guide chose that moment to make his appearance.

“Hey Roy,” I drawled with the authorative boredom I now reserve for the average Latin male.

“You need another room.”

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