Advertisement
Published: October 23rd 2010
Edit Blog Post
La Paz, October 20th - 22nd
We were up and out of the Maya by their 11AM check-out time, jumping in to a cab for the “Wild Rover” hostel a few blocks away. We got out of the cab, put our two backpacks, three small bags and laptop on the pavement, paid the cabby and watched him drive away before the guy standing in the doorway of “Wild Rover” told us we couldn’t stay there.
“You couldn’t have told us that before we got all our stuff out of the cab?” I asked.
“No,” he replied. Dick.
We later discovered that they weren’t turning us away because they were full. Apparently the tax office had come around and told them they weren’t paying enough tax so they could either close for three days or pay a B$30,000 fine. They called the tax man’s bluff and closed their doors, kicking everyone out.
We jumped in another cab and headed to one of the hostels near Sagarnaga, checking in to the Cactus Hostel on Calle Jimenez. For B$60 a night we got a fairly large room with two single beds, there was a rooftop terrace with a kitchen and though you had to
supply your own toilet paper, the toilets were always clean and the showers were hot and powerful.
We spent the rest of that day wandering the city, ending up at the supermarket an hour’s walk away. They had a refrigerated meat section which didn’t smell rancid so we bought groceries for the next few days. We also got a few bits and pieces from the various markets on the street along the way, including an avocado which turned out to be as mouldy and hairy on the inside as the woman who sold it to us was on the outside.
The next couple of days were fairly low-key. Having been travelling for almost two months, we had come to the realization that to make the money last for the intended six months there were going to have to be some days when we didn’t go out and do touristy things but rather just lived and conserved money. And with the rainy season having just started in La Paz, a day that pours with rain isn’t one you tend to feel guilty about lying in bed hung over rather than out seeing the sites. Furthermore, Cactus was an easy hostel to
just exist in, with friendly (predominantly French) guests, an ever-smiling family running the place and a room that was large enough to spend time in without feeling claustrophobic.
Near the hostel were a number of markets. The black markets in no way lived up to my expectations. A Bolivian black market taking up several blocks I expected to be full of guns, knives, drugs and various other forms of contraband. Turns out it was full of knock off Adidas jackets, Ray Bans and Levis - which I guess makes Paddy’s markets a black market too. The witches markets were considerably smaller, just a stack of stalls and shops along Jimenez and the parallel street. The witches markets sold trinkets, wood wind instruments, various spices and leaves and llama foetuses (which apparently are good luck). Late one night, I went out looking for some chocolate. With the closest store closed, I took my chances with one of the open witches stalls. “Chocolate?” I asked the old lady at the stall.
“No hay,” she said, giving me a look like I was a total moron. Clearly I had come in one of the rare lulls she experienced selling llama foetuses at midnight. Whoever heard of buying food then?
We did get out on the Friday to go to the immigration office to extend our visas. Expecting to receive the run-around (proof of income, on-going ticket etc) we were pleasantly surprised when all that was required were photocopies of our passports, our Bolivian entry cards and the page of our passports that was stamped with our entry to Bolivia. With these photocopies, the guy at the immigration department asked “sesente or novente?” (sixty or ninety?) We replied novente and he simply stamped our passports (both of which already had a thirty day stamp) with two more thirty day stamps each.
We booked a few tours (one to ride down the world’s most dangerous road and one of San Pedro prison) and took to eating the local roadside meals. At B$3 for a hot dog or steak with tomato and onion on a piece of bread, these feeds were becoming favourites with both the Boss and I - mainly because they were cheap and because we didn’t get sick from them. Yet.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.154s; Tpl: 0.012s; cc: 5; qc: 45; dbt: 0.0483s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb