Bolivia

After an eleven hour local bus trip from Puno we arrived in La Paz, Bolivia, but not before an entertaining border crossing near Copacabana (not the Rio one). Leaving the bus to cross the border without us, we had to walk through the (slack) passport and emigration controls before re-boarding the bus on the Bolivian side. Several hours later, we had to leave the bus again as it crossed the end of Lake Titicaca by punt while we had to pay for a ferry ride.

La Paz ... what a disappointment! Set in a bowl surrounded by up to 6,000m high mountains and permanently clouded in smog, this city is well past its used by date. While the Spanish might have done a nice job with the architecture hundreds of years ago, I think the city managers have been seriously neglectful in maintenance ever since! Not only is it a risky place in respect to personal safety, just negotiating the old broken footpaths and clogging crowds can be a hazard in itself. Find yourself on the streets around midday and the addition of countless thousands of kids leaving after the morning shift of school can be positively claustrophobic.

Even a simple thing like getting a cold drink in a cafe can be difficult. When I asked for a cold coke I was delivered a warm one which the waiter announced as being ‘natural’, then shrugged his shoulders and smiled smugly as he walked away. And that was the only time I saw anyone smile the whole time I was there. I guess the joke was on me as very few places can boast refrigeration!

Significantly contributing to the fumes that permanently choke this city of three million people, thousands of (mostly) old minivan type taxis jostle for passengers, stopping anywhere and creating traffic gridlocks. With no public transport, the taxis are king and with exponential population growth and no suggestion of improving the transport system any time soon, this city will no doubt eventually drown in its own muck. (I suppose you can tell that I wasn’t impressed?)

However, there were two highlights while in La Paz. One was a day trek to Lake Chiarkota. Hanging at almost 5,000m in the shadows of the surrounding snow-capped mountains, this was a great walk but one which required many stops to drag vital oxygen into depleted lungs. The second was getting a very professional (if not old fashioned) haircut. It’s always interesting getting the old ears lowered in another country and I have a picture to prove it! Kinky you might say? Come on, how many of you can boast having a picture of you getting a haircut ... anywhere? So indulge me!

Ciao for now.

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