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Published: September 19th 2008
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One for Pachamama, one for me
96% alcohol: great way to start It was hard not to be knocked over by La Paz.
The flight in was wildly spectacular, and the taxi ride to our accommodation was equally spellbinding. Precariously perched between the Altiplano ('high plane'), and the rugged Andes, it is a scenic wonder. But whether driving, walking, or just standing around, the chaotic nature of its life is absolutely insane. The steep topography requires the bus, van and truck drivers to give their steeds a hard time as they weave around each other in random fashion to the blare of horns and the constant yelling of van drivers' assistants actively recruiting passengers to overfill the available seats. It is so chaotically atmospheric.
Despite taking a year out of our lives to travel, we are actually running out of time. With the Inca Trail in Peru booked for 3 weeks away, there is time enough to cherry pick whatever we can out of our route out of Bolivia - and nothing more. The map reliably informs us that we will be exiting out the western side of Bolivia, barely half way up the length of the country. Down to the North and West lies Amozonian Jungle, and so much of it.
So we wasted no time, and booked ourselves on the 'Most Dangerously Hyped Road'. Cities need food, and being parked at 3800m, La Paz is not the perfect bread basket. However, a solution was found in the 30's by forcing Paraguayan prisoners of war to build a ludicrous road that plummets off the edge of the Altiplano down to the tropical banana palm growing area, at a mere 1100m. Unsurprisingly, the (often single lane) road had to be hacked and blasted into the sheer slopes of the descending valley. Come the 90's when traffic was increasing (commercial goods + tourists + locals + La Paz elite with their holiday homes at the bottom), vehicles had to reverse back to a suitable passing place. The death rate became the greatest per kilometre of any road in the world, and the mangled wreckages are still a sight to be seen.
Progress cannot be helped, and the death rate justified a massive concrete highway of modern engineering proportions. Some entrepreneurial kiwi decided the now quieter old road was kind of fun to cycle down, and so boomed an enormous tourist industry, with 15 different companies all thinking this was a good
idea also. The slick international marketing serves to up the ego, while the main aim of the guide is to down the idiotic tendencies of his flock, using a continuous bombardment of traumatic stories: from handlebar insertions into the inner thigh, to artificial creation of a second rear end, to instant loss of all front teeth, to instant death, and finally the delayed death story by going over the edge. It is a road that mistakes on two or four wheels can be remarkably unforgiving...
So we had a joyous descent down this road, and it was remarkably hard to stay looking at the road ahead when the scenery is so smashing. But perhaps the gem of the day was the finish at a (commercialised) wildlife refuge, with a hot shower, great food, cabins to stay in, and a range of animals to play with. And now we understand how appealing it is to have a little baby monkey clamber up your leg to your neck, and give you a huge hug. These little guys are usually ex-pets, and so creating the need for animal rehab when they grow up and assert their territorial demands with a strength that
Lilly
ex-circus, has some unusual behavioural patterns, but otherwise great company. defies their size.
And needing to find some high ground to climb, Uchumachi Mountain out of the little village of Coroico made a tempting target to test the legs pre-Inca Trail. And it proved a great walk and a good view of the surrounding region. A pity the summit was marked with 96% alcohol bottles - maybe when taking alcohol up, the locals figure a water content is wasted effort.
La Paz itself is a wealth of museums, and one worth a mention was the Coca museum. Coca leaf has a long tradition within the indigenous peoples of South America, and it is a recent medical development that its refined properties are an anaesthetic, turning surgery (and other procedures) from something to be enormously terrified of, into something to only be terrified of. Along came Sigmund Freud, and the use of Cocaine as a narcotic was born. Its history from there went downhill, and the efforts the U.S. puts into South America is a bloody struggle against a determined and well financed industry capable of putting up more than an even fight. From a South American perspective, these efforts may be better spent addressing the US domestic problems
Stay still...
... I just need to get this one... of addiction and crime rather than bringing the fight to the producers, as it has legitimate uses locally. Unfortunately, it is often the little people in the way who get very hurt. As we approached the end of the many exhibits in this thoroughly educational museum, the Policia swooped in, and closed the museum as part of some bizarre investigation. The poor guy was forced to refund the entry fee of everyone inside, and (not for the first time in our travels) we were left puzzling over what that was all about.
Only a day trip from La Paz, we jumped aboard the tight confines of a local shuttle, and visited Tihuanacu - a little town where the once impressive mother-culture of the Andes flourished. And we were treated to such a display of excavations of incredible stone work and even a partly uncovered pyramid. Of course the post-Columbian town of Tihuanaco has a church, and it is no surprise that the gold and stone were pillaged wildly for this and other constructions. Such is the predatory nature of these things, but we now struggle to appreciate the true grandiosity of these Christian structures now. To see the fine
The three amigos
Sharing is a good thing. Meals are supposed to be a social event. stone work preparation of a huge stone gateway to receive the layers of fine gold and silver - left bare after the careful removal from centuries past.
La Paz has truly been a jolt to the system. Vivas la electricidad!
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