Keen to find my own way up into the mountains, I ventured into the city center, walkingthrough the bustling sidewalks, underneath the dirty walls of the fading 19th century buildings, past the garish billboards, and brightly lighted storefront windows, and made my way to the public bus terminal.
Walkingthrough the door is like opening the window on an advent calendar: the walls are painted a vivid raspberry, and wintry draughts are kept at bay by thick red curtains across stone doorways.