Did I say "south"? I meant "Go south until you reach the middle of nowhere, then keep going for another day or two"...
On the Chilean side, there is a very serious man in a jacket reading DETECTIVE who peers at your passport and then sends you to the inspection table. Here condor-eyed agricultural inspectors search your bags for the slightest trace of forbidden fruit or meat. The search is thorough but strangely limited to what you physically bring with you into the building. Apparently the Chilean border service cannot conceive of a criminal mind so devious it would think to leave contraband on the bus.
His most recent post, "An Annotated Letter From Roman Polanski," is sad, but a really good exposition of the case, with his trademark sharp writing.
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