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A lot of Israelis were staying there, and I made new friends. I spent some nights with them, some in Dede's room, ate my meals cheaply in the market, and was enjoying myself thoroughly.

One afternoon Marcus and I were sitting in a small teahouse that I had discovered in an alleyway beside the market of Pachamama. Marcus was telling me about the great time he had been having lately and tried to talk me into joining him on a trip to the countryside.

'I like being in Bolivia,' he said happily. 'Even my clairvoyant would be surprised if he knew . . .'

'What do you mean, Marcus, by your 'clairvoyant'? Don't tell me you believe in that kind of nonsense.'

Marcus smiled. 'I not only believe in them, I'm a bit of a clairvoyant myself.'

'I don't get you,' I said, amazed.

'It may sound funny to you, Yossi, but it's the truth. I'm not an ordinary person. I have some kind of special power. I don't know exactly how to put it, but sometimes I feel things in the air. Sometimes things happen to me . . . strange things. When I was younger, I used to tell all my friends' futures. I told them who would get married and when, how many children each of them would have. Years went by, and what I had predicted came true. Pregnant women used to ask me whether they were carrying boys or girls. I would hold a needle suspended on a thread and concentrate. If the needle swayed to the right, it