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Our trip leader, Paul, hesitated.
It's a little... cheesy."
That's it. I'm going. I'm going to see the dinosaur footprints at Parque Cretacico. Bring on the cheese.
Four other tourists on my small group expedition—there are 8 passengers and a leader—and I piled into a single taxi ("Mega-sore-ass" quipped the sweet young Aussie man) and off we went to see the dinosaur footprints.
The taxi driver was a reasonable adult, and he didn't sneer at our giggling over stuffing four into the back seat. But he did look puzzled when he pulled up to a concrete factory and we wouldn't get out.
"That's not a dinosaur park. That's a concrete factory."
"He's taken us to the wrong place."
I got out and spoke to a concrete factory security guard who waved up a hill.
"Si, si, Parque Cretacico."
Hmmm.
"Apparently this is the right place."
But look, would you have believed it?
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The security guard dropped the chain over the driveway and we drove up the hill to the dinosaur park.
Oh, cheese!
Plastic dinosaurs galore! I was in heaven.
"But they aren't roaring. The guidebook promised roaring."
On cue, the dinosaurs started roaring loudly. I quickly switched my camera to video mode. Give me time.
At the top was a viewpoint over a quarry of dinosaur footprints. It was across a ditch—you couldn't go up to them. Nevertheless, how cool to stand over dinosaur footprints.
More photos here.
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2 comments:
Oh good! Now I don't feel bad that we didn't have time to stop at Dinosaur Land on the day after Christmas.
/Mom
His arms are on backwards.
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