La Paz. Bolivia

A word of warning this log contains some very morbid and sad stories please do not read if  you are faint of heart.

The Captain and Admiral landed in La Paz, still feeling the residual exhaustion from the huge hike to Machu Picchu they had completed only a few days earlier.
The arrival dock did not resemble much of an airport, more rather a garage or a shed. Upon arrival they walked straight to baggage claim bypassing the counters for immigration as they were unmanned. Easy. They collected their bags and just as they were about to leave, the immigration officers had decided to come in to work. They were sent back to complete that process.

In the immigration line they were able to make friends with some fellow travelers that advised them that there had been transport strikes at Salar de Uyuni (The Bolivian Salt Flats). They had been advised by their tour operater that the bus that was to take them would no longer be able to and that they were trying to sort out ways to go.
This was highly concerning to the Captain and  Admiral, as Uyuni was the sole reason that they had come to Bolivia, however unlike the distraught couple, they were to be flying into Uyuni and they had received no such news from their own tour operator.
They wished them best of luck and headed to the shops in search for a simcard. They were soon disappointed as the simcard store did not sell ‘chips’ between 12 and 2 pm, they grabbed a taxi and headed towards the city and the hotel.

Straight away they could see the landscape of the city consisted of a variety of hills and mountains,  along which like veins lay a web of black lines. As they drove deeper into the city they realised the these  black lines were paths of the over-head cable car system. It intertwined like the London tube. They were also quick to see the level of poverty that consumed the city. It was a rough and extremely raw place.

Additionally they had been warned by many comrades prior to the trip around the safety of Bolivia and La Paz. It had notoriously been known for robberies, kidnappings and of tourists going ‘missing’. They had been cautious but not too concerned as they were only going to be transiting on their way to Uyuni, only spending a few days there.
After checking in they went on an adventure to explore the surroundings and get their bearings. Since they were unable to get a SIM card at the airport they started walking down the street, searching for a place that would sell them one.
Straight away it was evident that both the Captain and Admiral felt uneasy. The sights and smells as well as the landscape, things sold by in street vendors and locals all overwhelmed them. It was like being in India, however not one person spoke English in the  underdeveloped city.  After  bouncing through several shops they were able to find one that was that took their phones and was able to set them up. It was a nerve racking moment as he asked for both of thier devices and he stayed behind a glass enclosure. The transaction was successful and they were connected to the internet.

This is also when they received the terrible news. Something they had been dreading.  An email from the tour operator. ” hello, for tomorrow, we can not operate because all street will be block per 2 days the people is very aggressive. please the best option it is change the flight on saturday please.”

After exchanging a few emails with the operators, it seemed it was futile trying to make it on those days. Additionally, they discovered this was a common occurrence in Bolivia.  Extremely upset and frantic they started brainstorming what to do.

Ultimately they decided it would not be possible to make Uyuni in the timeframe they had anticipated, and since they felt uneasy with Bolivia so far, they made a call to pull back their flights to Argentina by two days. Still feeling a sense of loss  and dissapointed to be missing out on the salt flat adventures, they made a pact not to think of it, also believing in the idea that whatever happens, happens for a reason. It was hard to console each other but that is what was required at that point of time.

Attempting to set out one more time before the city got dark, they headed out exploring, walking towards the Coca museum. They coincidentally ended up walking through the Witches Market, which as the name would suggest sold some rather bizarre items. Amongst all the various potions and elixers, they saw embalmed Llamas and Llama fetus’ hanging in shop fronts.
They reached the Coca museum and were able to learn the importance of the coca leaf to the native Bolivian tribes people as well as the impact to the world the Coca leaf has had.  At one point the natives were paid by the Spanish in coca leaves, which in turn enables them to work 18- 20 hours down in the mine.  Bolivia being the biggest exporter of coca in the world, the leaf went to pharmaceutical companies as well as hundreds of tons going to Coca-Cola, who still use the leaf for flavour. They also learnt the dark side of the plant. Bolivia being the biggest producer and exporter of cocaine in the world.  The exhibits went through how cocaine was a cure all drug, being used for toothaches in children, in tonics even for headaches. It has destroyed the country and led to an epediemic that has impacted everyone. The tour of the museum opened their eyes to the harmful nature of the drug, how it is produced and the devestation it causes, to the people and the land.

They left the establishment and without exploring too far came across a tourist friendly Street in which they made friends with a local. Claudia recommended that we visit a club she works at later that night, both the Captain and Admiral were keen. After saying goodbye to Claudia they found an Indian restaurant on the same strip. A much needed change to the local food they had been having, additionally something perfect to warm up in the cold weather conditions. They had a feast and this time, unlike Cusco the Indian food actually was of decent quality. Bellies full they headed home for a bit of a rest before heading out. Without it getting too late and taking precautions at 9ish the Captain and Admiral visited the bar that Claudia had recommended Route 4×9. When they arrived it seemed to be closed and just as they were about to head home, Claudia and her friends rocked up and opened the club.

It was great. Not much could be said about the night. They got home at 2 am after partying with Claudia all night. The following day the Captain woke up with a terrible hangover. He knew he had no one else to blame but himself. The night before mixed with his age resulted in this horrible feeling, that unfortunately he knew too well. Fighting the urge to go back to bed the Captain and Admiral rushed to make the walking tour. They joined the tour just in the nick of time and the first place they visited (well from outside) was the San Pedros Prison. Located only meters away from the main  San Pedro Plaza, lies one of the world’s most notorious and corrupt prisons.

What makes San Pedro so interesting are the conditions in which around 1500 of Bolivia’s most hardened criminals live. A society within itself, the prison contains shops and restaurants run by inmates, women and children living voluntarily with imprisoned family members and ironically, some of the country’s busiest cocaine laboratories There are no guards inside San Pedro, and authorities usually don’t intervene unless a significant problem arises or for the twice-daily roll-call.

San Pedro operates its own economy, with inmates required to pay for their own food, housing, medical care and general upkeep. A few prisoners are supported by family members, however many are left to find jobs within the prison in order to survive. Career prospects include, but are not limited to, restaurant owner, bar tender, messenger, chef, medical adviser, hairdresser and of course drug dealer. The bread and butter for many of San Pedro’s inmates is the production and sale of cocaine. Some of the purest cocaine in the world comes from inside the prisons walls, with inmates producing the drug not only to support their own habit, but to sell on the outside as a means to make money.

Since as early as the 1990s, tourists were able to pay their way into San Pedro Prison. A typical San Pedro prison tour consisted of a guide (usually a member of the strongest gang at the time) and a bodyguard taking tourists to the different cell blocks, inside cells, to the cafés, bars and artisans’ stalls for those much sought-after souvenirs and finally to a quiet corner where they could try cocaine if they so desired.

Since 2009, San Pedro has been strictly off limits to tourists, following a tough crack down from authorities in response to the prison’s growing notoriety. There are on average four deaths every month inside the prison from natural causes or from violent attacks.
There also has been a book written by an Australian called Marching Powder which entails his experience in the prison.

As a contrast the walking tour then took them to the markets, where they saw a ton of fresh produce including Potatoes. One of Bolivia’s biggest exports are potatoes. So much so that they grow 2000 varieties of potato in the country.
The ladies in the market are known as Cholitas. Cholitas are women of native heritage, they are ready to distinguish based on how they dressed in layered skirts and shawls, with a bowler hat perched atop their long black braids.

As far as the hats go at the turn of the 20th century, a large shipment of hats was ordered from Europe for railway workers, but they were too small. Rather than send them back, the hats were given to the local women. Some versions of the story say the women were told wearing the hat would help with fertility, others that a savvy hat merchant marketed them to the women as being all the rage in Europe.

As for the outfits the native men believe the calf to be the sexiest part of a females body and is only reserved to be seen by men that try and court them, that’s why the outfit covers the legs.

They then were taken to the parliamentary section and shown the presidential house, where some very bad things had happened in the past. One story of which was about a president that was helping the poor and was very popular. The rich and Nobel men got worried of this president and started spreading rumours to the poor that he has hidden motives and will increase taxes etc. The poor rather than see how good he was to them decided to believe the rich and attack the presidential house. Breaking in to find the president hiding, they dragged him out. Beat him to death. Shot him. Took off his clothes and tied him to a horse going around the square until finally hanging him naked in the middle of the square.

The next elected president explained that his predecessor had done nothing wrong, he actually was a good guy. The poor people all of a sudden realised their error and said they should erect a structure to honour him. All of a sudden the strikes in Uyuni ceased to surprise them, it was clear that the Bolivians were emotional people. They then were taken once again to the Witches Market, here the tour guide explained the Llama fetus’ and embalmed llamas. He explained that most Bolivians, although Catholic, still carry their old pagan beliefs. They also are extremely superstitious. They explained that when a Bolivian person builds a house they need to make an offering to mother earth (Pacha Mama) and as so they buy a dead llama (which they stated dies of natural causes) and alongside a few offerings do some chants and prayers and burn these on the foundation that the house will be built upon. The size of house dictates the offering i.e baby llama vs. fetus. The bigger the establishment the bigger the sacrifice required. This is where things got extremely dark. Warning. Not a story for the faint hearted.

When the establishment was very big, such as an apartment complex or office building, they would have a certain sect of shamans scour the city looking for homeless people. When they would find some, they would offer free alcohol and sit with them, learn about them, who they are, where they came from, and as they got more drunk, find out if they had any next of kin or people wjo may be looking out for the.. If they discovered that the homeless did not have anyone and were lone wolves,  they would tell them about a party in the next few days and invite them to lift their spirits, promising free food and free booze. The homeless people would accept.

The day would come and the homeless person would attend a party at a construction site at night time, where dressed up construction workers would treat them with food and a lot of alcohol. Eventually the homeless person becomes so intoxicated that they pass out. At this point he is placed in a hole with the rest of the offerings to Pachamama and buried alive  by pouring cement on them, encasing them in the foundation of the building. They explained it was important for Pacha Mama to receive the soul of the person, therefore it was critical for them to be alive when they poured the concrete.

This had the tour left with jaws wide open. The Captain realised he was holding the Admirals hand tightly. When asked if they believed this actually still happened, the tour guide explained that if anyone knew, then the person committing this crime would be jailed as murder is still a crime. However he couldn’t confidentially say it doesn’t happen and ended the topic by stating that he believed the locals were extremely superstitious.

They then also learnt about Cemetery for elephants. Elephant cemeteries are a type of hotel/bar where alcoholics go to drink themselves to death when they have given up on life. Most offer nothing more than a dingy unlit room with cold cement flooring, bare brick walls, and a tattered old mattress for the wretched to lie on as they slowly pass away. Obviously illegal, elephant cemeteries trade entirely underground. Alcoholics ask the proprietor to lock them inside until they have passed away. Those who change their mind can ring a doorbell and leave, only to end up sleeping on the hard concrete streets right outside.

After such morbid discussion, they took the tour to a small multilevel like carpark, which was a food market/ giant food court, they explained that these types of food and drink markets were present everywhere. They went in to proudly state that because of these, Bolivia is one of the only countries that MacDonalds went bankrupt. Locals would much rather prefer fast food at such establishments rather than Macdonalds. Here they were given a short break in which the Captain and Admiraal had some fresh mixed (9 fruit) juice and a very tasty Avacado sandwich.

For the final landmark they went to San Fransico Church, where the story went that the Spanish got the locals to build the church and allowed them to add native symbols to the church as a way to get them to come to church, this however didn’t work and attendance was still low. They then came up with an idea to use their superstitions to achieve their aim. The Spanish installed mirrors in the church and when locals felt some sort of adrenaline or changes in their body, they were told that it was thier souls escaping and one way to stop losing their soul is to come to church. In the church they installed hundreds of mirrors. Since the natives had never seen mirrors before, they thought that their image in the mirror was in fact their  trapped souls. The Spanish then told them that the only way they would be released is if they attended church every Sunday. Come get your soul sessions.

They finished the tour with on a crash course on Bolivian politics. They were taken to a private location where the police or army couldn’t hear them, then they confidently discussed the condition of the state. They learnt the good things about the current president which include: more rights for Cholitas, access to education, allowance for kids in school and subsidised goods for pregnant women.

They also learnt the bad: changing election terms from 4 to 5 years, serving more terms by changing the name of the country, corruption, bias towards coca farmers (which include tax exemptions and the best of conditions – they even have a private commercial airport which is better than the national one) and atrocious environmental crimes, which include deforestation of the Amazon to give more land to the coca farmers (also once you grow coca, the soil cannot sustain any other plant life). They also learnt that once the president was on his way to Europe and rumours spread that he had cocaine onboard, not a single European country allowed his plane to land and he was forced to return to Bolivia for  ‘refueling’ before he could fly back to Europe.

With that the tour ended, this was by far the most dark, honest and interesting walking tours the Captain and Admiral had done. Still traumatized from the stories, It had just started raining as they left the safe spot full of knowledge, and went to grab a coffee on Calle Jaen. Calle Jaen is a famous street, renowned for its bright coloured walls and artesian shops. Here they planned the night’s activities.

Another thing that Bolivia is famous for which does not happen anywhere else is the world is Cholita Wrestling. Inspired by America’s WWF and Mexico’s famous lucha libre, Chollita Wrestling is a fighting event, featuring Bolivian women dresses up in traditional outfits battling it out in spectacular fashion. The event only happens on Sunday and Thursday. The Captain and Admiral were lucky that it was Thursday. Just on a whim they were able to book a bus and grab tickets to go and see the spectacle. Luckily they had arrived early and secured a seat in the front row. Over the next few hours they witnessed Cholitas tackle, dodge, slap, choke, jump and fall on their opponents. It was a mix of humor and passion unique with random storylines of referees having favorites and underdogs. There was one point that the Captain got slapped by one of the wrestlers for changing sides half way through the match. The Admiral could not stop laughing. And took some notes for her future interactions with the Captain. It was one of those moments where you think to yourself ‘what the hell am I doing here?’

After the matches and several laughing tummy stitches later they made an escape and rather than taking a bus opted to travel via cable car to their hotel. The guide at the wrestling explained the process which involved changing several lines jumping from the blue to grey to purple line. It sounded manic and confusing. They jumped on and straight away they saw magnificent views of the densely populated city. Everything looked very different from 100 metres up in the sky.  A few stops later they realised the system was super simple and within 45 minutes they reached home, which was faster than the bus. They grabbed some dinner at the hotel and quickly ate. They were leaving Bolivia the next day and had to check out at 1am  to make the 4am flight to the best of airs, aka Buenos Aires