High Times

29.09.08 - 04.10.08 La Paz

Making an entrance
Only seeing the neon lights of Vegas from deep in the desert compares to the unexpected surprise at first sight of witnessing La Paz reveal itself. The world´s highest city actually lies at the base of a canyon but has spread into a sprawling mass of degradation that covers every square inch of the surrounding walls. It´s poluted, over populated and chaotic - but equally exciting!

The Force is strong with this one
Our reputation arrives at a bar before us. Have an entirely telepathic conversation from the other side of the room with my new friend Fernando - we both know what we´re ´not´ talking about. It´s like a Jedi mind trick and I find the droids I´m looking for. His shit sparkles!

Little Britain
Have a taste of back home by visiting an English pub - drink pints, eat bangers and mash and watch football. Learn that it´s physicaly impossible to make a Yorkshire pudding rise at high altitude. If we´d finished with a kebab and a fight, it could have be Sutton.

Elvis hasn´t left the building
We´re staying at a hotel lost in a 70s time warp. There is glass and mirrors everywhere with a studded red leather foyet, mural wallpaper and every available surface is covered with a different pattern of lino. It´s so kitsch it´s kool. We act like Elvis in every way (apart from the singing) - get wasted, channel surf and eat junk food while wearing oversized shades. If I had blue suede shoes, Flo would step on them.

Sights in the city
Take an exhausting walk arounf the city - every step is an uphill struggle in the anorexic air. It´s impossible even for me to get lost as the main Prado runs from the affluent bottom to the afflicted top - at least the poor get to look down on the rich in some way.

Top Three Strange Sights
1) The so-called Witches Market selling llama foetuses in varying stages of development - for good luck without the charm.

2) Shoe shine workers dressed in combat gear and wearing ski masks. I assume they are all accomplices in an armed robbery until I learn they are hiding the shame of their lowly form of employment.

3) San Pedro prison is infamous for being an uncontrolled community within its own walls where there are no guards and prisoners must earn a living to pay rent on their cells. Most people are in there for cochyena - do the line, do the time - and only 20% have been sentenced while the rest wait to be tried for the rest of their lives. Unfortunately, we´re unable to gain entry (without starting a career in drug traffiking) but the sight of a caged courtyard of criminals separated by armed guards is intimidating all the same.

Phlo´s fobia
As we´re siting eating ice cream in a square crowded by locals feeding the birds, Flo reveals a deep seated fear of pigeons at close range. Believing they will accidently land on her like they are the seed weilding locals, she freaks the fuck out:)

Her reasoning is that the dim witted pigeons may mistake her for a friendly feeder. She doesn´t want to be known by pigeons as ´the girl with seed´, she wants to be known as ´the girl who fucking hates pigeons´. Oh, and she says they´re ugly - apparently, having a pretty parrot landing on her head would be less of an ordeal.

You can´t argue with logic like that.

Pigeons overhear her prejudices and beginning following us, plotting. I think they´re planning a coo:)

When will I see you again
Having survived on an economic diet for a while we decide to treat ourselves at one of La Paz´s most exclusive restaurants. We drink wine from the world´s highest vinyard and eat several courses of pretentiously served by exquisitely tasting food - all for less than a price of a KFC bargain bucket. Return home completely satiated.

Wake up the next day as sick as a dog´s parrot - gastronomics seem too rich for our newly accquired peasant´s palettes. And, Flo is in the same boat - sailing in a sea of bum wee:)

The road to hell
We escape La Paz by bus that ventures across what is officially the world´s most dangerous road (TM).

Imagine this:

A large tour bus crowded with anxious and often praying locals.
A single lane, loosely gravelled road winding precariously above a depth-defying drop.
The carcasses of cars that have claimed hundreds of lives lying below.
Traffic coming in the opposite direction that demands the driver change to the outside lane to see the edge he is rimming.
Locals intent on overtaking while this is happening.
Night falling.
A bomb on the bus. If the bus goes below 50kph, the bomb goes off...just joking but you get the idea!

We fall asleep in the mountains and wake in the Amazon basin. Which way´s the jungle?

Awimba-way:)

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