“That’s a very bad hotel,” the taxi driver told me. “I know a better one. The Hotel Inca Real.”
I told him in my strained Spanish that I wanted to go to the one I had already picked out.
“It burned down,” he tried.
“Really?” I was too tired for this, having just arrived on a red-eye.
“Or maybe it’s out of business. It isn’t there. I have a very good one.”