After befriending a group of Argentineans, he mimicked their every mannerism, while peppering his Spanish with extravagantly-pronounced colloquialisms.

I could empathise with his attraction to the Argentinians. They were a friendly loquacious mob whose more European outlook made them ideal companions to negotiate the continent. He sat in stony silence when several of his adopted friends cheerfully welcomed me into their conversation – much as if he’d caught me exchanging flirtatious glances with his girlfriend.

Denial of his past life was integral to his immersion. When I greeted him in English, he answered only in gruff Spanish phrases that ended the conversation before it started. He was verbose with his new friends or the cute young Colombians whose reception duties extended little beyond channel-hopping through the communal TV and firing the imaginations of lonely strangers.

But when another Englishman strayed onto his scent-laid patch, he became sullen and introverted. The midnight bell of his trip was soon to toll with its attendant horrors of him being turned back precipitously and undeniably into an Englishman.