I’d never been run down by police horses before. I’ve been drunk out of my mind in rowdy crowds outside racing carnivals and music festivals and wandered past the odd protest rally but never had a problem beyond some burly, overzealous security guards wanting to assert a little authority to make themselves feel tough.
I have just spent the best part of 12 months in Latin America. From Mexico down to Argentina, across to Chile and up again. I wouldn’t trade this time for anything, and given the time and resources would gladly do it again. I left regretting so much that I was leaving behind. The endless Argentine nights; Venezuela’s daily head-scratching anomalies; the amiable people of Chile; Mexico’s 24-hour tequila consumption and the unique ability to breakout into a party, parade, protest or riot at a moments notice, complete with music, dancing and fireworks. These are a few of the features I will miss.