A beer pub in the middle of Caracoles, named for a bad pun on Licancabur, and the least self-conscious place in San Pedro. Chilean draught by the half-litre or by the 1.6-litre pitcher, a rack of bottled imports, European and South American football on the screens, rock on the sound system. No desert mysticism, no astronomy talk, no llama on the menu.
There is no menu at all, in fact — the kitchen does not exist. If you want food they phone El Charrúa next door and a pizza arrives. Nobody minds, and it is worth knowing before you sit down hungry.
Open from noon until one in the morning, two at weekends, which makes it the last thing still serving on most nights.