La Paz, Bolivia – The First Time
(Once again on post catchup mode…. this part of my trip was so long ago now, urgh)
Our bus trip from Uyuni to La Paz was both interesting and amusing for me, and thoroughly unenjoyable for my companions. When we bought the bus tickets, the girls asked if there was heating on board, if there were meals, if there was a bathroom. The response was an emphatic “yes”. I warned them to assume these didn’t exist – the trip was 12 hours long, and Bolivian bus companies can sometimes be unreliable. As we climbed on board the realised their mistake pretty quickly – no heating, no bathroom. We finally got moving along the dirt roads out of Uyuni at about 8.30 at night, and just out of sight of the street lights the bus stopped to repair a flat tyre.
Five or six more hours along, the bus stopped for the one and only bathroom break on the 12 hour journey. Luckily they stopped at a small “rest stop”, basically a two house village with a small cafe and what can barely pass as amenities available for use of travellers for a small fee.
I smoked a cigarette with Jay as we stretched our legs outside the bus – he was miserable: uncomfortable, tired and just wanting to get to a nice warm bed. I felt bad: prepared for discomfort and cold of the Bolivian buses, I had taken my coat on board with me and was using it partly as a blanket and partly as a cushion for my lower back. Being sensitive to sedatives and having a cold, I had also taken a night time dose of cold and flu tablets and was incredibly groggy and sleep
Jay, Sarah, Sophia, Anna and I arrived in La Paz to the Adventure Brew Hostel, not far from the bus station. The girls had decided that we were staying at the slightly more expensive hostel with the free/included all-you-can-eat pancake breakfast and that was that. (Personally, as a fan of pancakes, I think it was worth it).
We took incredibly long hot showers, relaxed and spent the next few days exploring the new city. The witches’ markets were the main drawcard. Unexpectedly touristy, they were still worth the look: how often do you see dried llama fetus for sale? Or herbal spells and charms for Pachamama (mother earth)? It was a nice walk – the cobble stoned streets and overpriced (for Bolivia, yet still startlingly cheap compared to other countries) alpaca wool goods and hand crafts of every colour laid out along every back alley and sidewalk.
For me, the altitude was a problem immediately. I was out of breath, light headed and struggling with the steps that I seemed to be required to haul myself up regardless of the direction in which we were walking. La Paz is set in a steep valley, with the main road running down the centre: it doesn’t matter where you want to go – at least half of your trip will involve those lovely steps. My appetite all but disappeared, which didn’t help my energy levels either. Over the next 2-3 months at altitude it never returned and it wasn’t I left the heights and returned to La Paz much later that my energy levels and stamina came good again.
La Paz is a strange city – the poverty through the rest of Bolivia finds its way here to be displayed in its homeless, beggars, street sellers and Bolivia’s usual informal retail market. The bright colours of clothing and goods and the busy chaotic bustle during the day can hide a slightly darker side: stories from other travellers of police corruption, scams, of kidnappings (where the taxi driver is involved), travellers falling to drug addiction and the usual muggings that can be had in every city in the world. You know you are in a special place when in the hostel, alongside pamphlets about tours and tourist attractions you find a leaflet for a lawyer specialising in “tourist issues”. In my experience, as in the rest of South America, you can avoid almost all of this by paying attention, being careful and staying away from much of the seedier side of South American life. You know what I mean.
I’ll write a little more about La Paz in a later post (I returned to the city for a longer 2-3 week stay and saw a lot more) – stay tuned.
We celebrated Jay’s 30th birthday by a cake and clubbing, with those of us who could last the distance wandering home at an insane hour the next day and promptly retiring to bed. The girls headed off shortly after, and I left Jay not long after that for Cochabamba to visit my friend Cristhian.
I had to walk 2 blocks uphill to the bus terminal, with almost 20 kg of gear. I had to stop several times, out of breath. An incredibly old Bolivian woman glanced at me puffed and resting as she easily carried her huge cloth sack of something uphill past me. She giggled. A few minutes later she walked past me again, grinning at me and exaggerating how easy it was for her, and how funny it was that it was difficult it for me. She did it twice more before the novelty must have worn off (or I finally dragged myself into the bus terminal and out of her sight).
The Bolivians are tough (especially their women), and they have a cheeky sense of humour. Damn them
