Bolivian High-Life

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Bolivia has been good to us. We took a 9 hr. train that might or might not have derailed for a minute from Uyuni to Oruro to connect with a bus to La Paz, at 3,600 meters is the highest capital in the world. La Paz is an incredible city. It is Jackson Hole, Wyoming, if Jackson Hole had 10,000,000 dirty little people and no toilet paper. The city sprawls itself to fit inside a bowl formed by snowy mountains. We strolled around the city two days; admiring architecture, visiting museums (one agricultural and one cultural/folklore), and shopping the black market. We all bought musical instruments and decided to start a band. Gordo has a guitar, Graham has a dijembe drum, Elise has a regional flute, and Emma has a goat nail bracelet that clinks. So now we are a travelling hippie group.
We then visited the Prison of San Pedro, a South American hell-hole notorious for its thick criminals and odd operating practices. The gaurds let Graham and Gordo have a glimpse into the prison and speak with prisoners for the price of five bread rolls and six cigarettes. A very fascinating place.
The next day we had perhaps the best day of our little South American experience. (We seem to say that on a weekly basis though). We rented mountain bikes and rode with a tour group 65 kilometers; we decended 11,000 feet in 5 hours, from the snow-capped mountain peaks outside of La Paz to the jungle heartland of Coroico. To do this one must plummet down what is statistically the "Most Dangerous Road in the World," averaging over 300 deaths a year until recent improvements dropped the number to less than 100. But before loved ones FREAK OUT over their mindless pumpkins, let me inform you: those deaths are all in buses or trucks (we were on bikes, going at our own pace and in complete control) and we were under the guidance of a very professional tour company. We are not stupid and wont do anything stupid. Anyways, to drop from a 4,500 meter mountain peak into the lush and lively rolling hills of Northern Bolivia in one swoop reveals scenery fantastically undescribable. The world literally changes in front of your eyes. Albeit it was scary, staring down 60 meter cliffs at bus rubbel and truck hoods swallowed by vines. But we were safe, enjoyed it, had no problems, and arrived in Coroico at 3 pm.
We enjoyed this tranquil town of Coroicoso much that we decided to spend the next 2 nights and 3 days there, even though we had not much more than the clothes on our back. So we perched ourselves in a lodge with a room overlooking banana trees, among the outskirts of the Amazonian Basin, and drank cocktails with fresh papaya juice. We swam in a pool, sat in a sauna, read in hammocks, played pool and fuzball, and ate tasty (by Bolivian standards) buffets. We hung out with old Bolivian guitar pluckers, danced with the locals, hiked around the town, and mingled with tourists at our lodge. All this boiled down to about $25 per person after all was said and done. But we must carry on... and so we took a 3 hr. bus back to La Paz where we will push off to the mythical Copacabana on Lake Titicaca tomorrow morning. Then we go to Lake PoopooWeiner. Just kidding.

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