Close call with crime in La Paz

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Whether it was the post Copacabana haze, the guidebook’s assurances that La Paz was ‘muy tranquilo’ in comparison to all other South American cities or just the fact that I had done too much, too quickly over the past week, I did something silly. I hopped in a cab waiting at the bus terminal. In Ecuador, this was safe. In Peru, I knew it wasn’t. It turns out it isn’t in La Paz either.

I knew things weren’t right after four or five streets into the trip. I was pretty sure my hostel was only a few blocks from the bus station.

Then the cab stopped. A ‘policeman’ hopped in. I had been warned in other cities about people posing as authorities demanding passports, money and bag searches. His ID was amateur at best but another Peruvian lady who was in the same taxi seemed convinced (and truth be told most things seemed amateur in S America so who was I to judge?)

I decided to play along for a while as I was pretty sure he wasn’t dangerous and still wasn’t entirely sure that he wasn’t legitimate. Well, his script went much as I thought it might. He requested my passport. I (with one hand on the handle to get out of the car) gave him a copy and told him the original was with the embassy, having the chip fixed. There was no way he was getting his hands on the original safely tucked away under many layers of clothing. He seemed OK with this.

Then he said the officials were concerned with immigrants bringing drugs in to the country. OK. No problems there. He asked to see my arm - umm.. okaay. I’d play along and give my brain time to assess and work out an exit strategy. Apparently I passed the ‘no needles here’ test. Then he wanted to look closely at my eyes for further evidence of drug ingestion / possession (which he had little to say about, aside from the fact that they were very pretty).

Then he said there had been many problems with false money in Bolivia and he needed to check my money. That was it! Enough! I jumped out of the cab immediately. I was in a busy street and was pretty sure if I was loud enough this would be enough to limit further pressure. On the offchance that I could retain my belongings I screamed (in Spanish) “Give me my backpack! NOW! Give me my backpack! NOW!” repeatedly to the cab driver who, to my surprise, acquiesced. I got out, went to the nearest internet café to research how to recognise a legitimate taxi and found myself one pronto. For the record, the real deal must have a radio inside and a phone number on the out.

I arrived safely at my hostel and was told that this was a common ruse. Normally, they will just skim a few Boliviano notes off and return your money to you, apparently. Sometimes they demand (and get) your credit card numbers. Very rarely, it can be worse.

I feel stupid that I fell for such a trap after being ridiculously vigilant throughout Peru but more than that I feel lucky. Lucky that they were obviously not hardened criminals. And lucky that I have had a warning tap on the shoulder to be careful. Always.

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Photos

Safe taxi in La Paz
Has a radio and a contact number painted on the car

Dodgy taxi in La Paz
No phone number, no radio in the car