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Published: July 22nd 2010
martes, 25 de mayo We arrived (still with Dan in tow) to Cochabamba at 6.30am. Right, executive decision - we're not gonna stay. Time is tighter than a duck's butt (thanks to our 5 day stay in Samaipata) and what there is to see can be done in a day. It's kind of a shame - we're off the altiplano finally and the weather is gorgeous. Possibly the hottest yet. It isn't enough though, just walking to the centre of town you can tell the place is devoid of personality, kind of like your average X-Factor or Britain's Got Talent viewer. There's plenty of mini-skyscrapers though to let you know what Cochabamba lacks in character it makes up in wealth.
We came here for one reason and one reason only. Jurrien had told us that Cochabamba had the World's largest Christ statue and in truth we didn't believe him. Bolivia having the World's largest anything that wasn't natural (and hence required some expenditure) is about as likely as me fitting into a pair of skinny jeans. We had been thwarted in Rio by the clouds 2 years ago, causing me to sulk for about a month, so hope kept us
Hiding behind the bushes...
Even Jesus has gotta pee...going. Lo and behold - 34.2m! It's taller, unbelievable. And yet, no-one gives a cr*p. Who's even heard of Cochabamba?
The statue stands at the top of a mountain that we were begged not to walk up since being mugged was a forgone conclusion. We took the teleferico instead. Nobody was up there. One man held out a camera to Hayley (clearly we lied about nobody being up there) which she tried to take to take a photo but no. They want a photo of her! With them in it, like best friends. Oh wait, the women want one with me too? And a hug? They don't ask for much!
Christ its hot.
miercoles, 26 de mayo At 6am I awoke near the climax of the night bus. Sh*t where's my bag? Oh it's under the leg rest, thank God almost panicked. But hadn't that been tied around it last night? Camera's not its case, where did I leave it? In the backpack under the bus I'm sure.
Dan wakes up. "What's up?" he says.
"Not sure if I left my camera in my backpack" I say.
Dan looks down. His 4 stone SLR camera is
gone.
"Oh f**k" I say. More investigation, phone's gone too.
Sh******************t! Sh*t! Sh*t! Sh*t! The f**ker cut the strap of my bag to get it from the chair. Cue panic-ringing the phone from Hayley's (no sound on the bus, it's gone), asking everyone on the bus to sell it back to me and texting the phone for some sort of contact. No such luck.
F**k Bolivia. F**k La Paz. F**k especially the El Dorado bus company - who were a complete load of pr*cks for the record, and most of all **** the **** up his ***** **** for taking all of my photos from me. No smiling Mr. Hugo, no Mayan p*n*s pottery, no wild guanacos, no River Plate, no Heurquehue. Did we mention f**k Bolivia? In truth it could have been way worse. Firstly, Hayley got off scott free. She had the passports. Secondly, the dozey kn*b didn't take the brand new i-pod in the same bag. Or Dan's normal camera. Compassion on behalf of the thief? Doubt it, the stupid sh*thead. A little bit of justice - the camera is completely dead. The plug was in the bag too which he missed. We've not seen
The view from the top
It's what Jesus gets to look at all day. Could be worse. a similar camera here, hopefully he can't find another. You have no idea how hard it is not to drop the c-bomb. Not that it would do a lot of good, c*ckmuncher probably can't read in his own language let alone English.
The nobility of Che Guevara risking his own life to economically free these people just got lost on us.
Labouring the point a little bit, but my mind continually wanders to what I could have been done to stop this. After all, we've travelled nearly two months now under the same routine. Couldn't have locked the bag because it's Karrimor so it broke within a week. Holding the stuff on our person just increases mugging risk, staying awake...good luck. In honesty we've never slept so well on a bus, they probably drugged us. We got lazy.
The police station was annoyingly disinterested. The tourist police were better but the English speaker there didn't arrive for well over an hour. No investigation, just a letter for insurance. We had lunch at the World's highest Burger King to console ourselves.
jueves, 27 de mayo Our first day in La Paz without spending it depressed in the
hostel room. We met up with Dan and his buddy Jay for some lunch at Sol La Luna. Our Mexican platter came with a red hot chili. Which the boys ate whilst Hayley filmed it. It burns. F**k it burns. Just like our pee will. "Turd degree burns" as Dan so eloquently put it.
What better way to get over the loss of a camera and all your photos than by spending the afternoon on La Paz's famous Mercado Negro looking for it. This market is huge; it sells absolutely everything. TVs, clothes, calculators, dildoes. We have no idea of the legality of it, our understanding is 'black market' is just a name but could mean something. Especially since we had heard of passports miraculously growing wings and finding themselves here. No luck with the camera.
For all non-travellers we'll take a minute to tell you about some of the scams that happen in South America. You never know, just might save your life one day. Or material possessions anyway:
THE SPITTER - most popular in Argentina. Some filthy old toothless hag walks up behind you and launches a mucus-filled mouthful of mustard onto your back. A caring
citizen offers to clean you up...and lifts your wallet.
TOURIST POLICE - the scariest, fact. A polite foreigner will make herself known before being accosted by a plain-clothes officer and barked at for her passport. She implores you to do the same. Passport is not coming back. Cue the sight of the gun in his belt and so's your bag too.
PICKPOCKET - skilful and most cowardly
THE CHUCKER - devilishly simple. Something is thrown up in the air in your direction. Look at it. Now look in your pocket. Magic.
Next down to the witch's market, another name or something more sinister? Witches aren't real you jokers. But why do the women have green faces? The market down its cobblestoned street is much more of a souvenir place but has hints of witchery, namely in the dried llama fetuses (is that the correct plural?) and pungeant potions to bring you good luck. We didn't buy any - customs don't let you carry animal products through. And really where would you keep it?
In the evening we headed up to one of the miradors overlooking this crater city. Right through one of the poorest neighbourhoods, good idea. Well
suck it Bolivia, nothing left to steal. The walk was short but destroying - La Paz is over 3,600m above sea level - our lungs must be the size of walnuts by now. At the top the crater can properly be appreciated, but the dominating landmark from here is the Estadio Siles; home of famous victories for Bolivia over Brazil and Argentina.
La Paz itself, and remember I am still depressed about the camera, is pretty filthy. It kinda smells like the bottom of a bin when someone has put something liquid in the bag and it leaked and congealed. The reason it smells is because the streets are lined with leaky binbags. And other droppings, we are in South America after all. La Paz is busy, more so than any place we have been before. Call it the situation but it just doesn't feel safe. Even the shoeshines wear skimasks. But they don't have snowboards.
It's p*ss*ng down too. Hmph.
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