Show us the highest city in the world.

Boliva was going to be a country of wet jungle, sweltering pampas, dangerous mountain biking and serious mountain climbing. First we wanted to get settled into La Paz, which would be our base for a while.

The bus was packed with travellers, all looking to experience the culture shock that La Paz promised. It was only supposed to take about 4 hours from Copacabana and every time we thought we were there we learnt just that little bit more about the Bolivian way of doing things. If you don’t just sit back and accept what’s ahead you would end up with some sort of mental health problem….however short term. The western expectations that things should go smoothly, or at least….go, need to be squeezed out of one of the many cracks in that bus window.

You can’t miss La Paz. The journey goes on for an age. (In any culture!) Winding down and down and down and sometimes a bit sideways, often in the wrong spots, into a valley. A very full valley! From the strangest point of drop off in the middle of nowhere, after being immediately interrogated by the police, satisfied that they had the number plates of the taxi that was taking us into town and the numbers of our passports, we made our 40 minute journey into the heart of the valley that is the grottiest, packed smelliest city yet.

From 3800 feet above sea level we peered out of the windows of the “taxi”! In the distance La Paz was protected by the serene landscape of snow capped mountains but in closer vicinity the much talked about lady hitching her multitude of skirts up and taking a piss in the street, in full, view greeted us. Now I thought we probably wouldn’t see this. That yes, it was one of those things that tourists talk about but that it couldn’t possibly be that common. Bolivian women, donned in 50 layers of brightly coloured skirts, their minuscule black paintent leather shoes, bowler hats that don’t quite fit, just sitting on the tips of their heads, squatting quite happily, quite comfortably on the side of Main Street. Pissing!
In fact, that, coupled with every local man taking his own not so personal leak at least twice a day doesn’t make for the best smell in South America. Couldn’t wait to find a hotel!!!!!

After 6 potential hotel options, snubbing the cheapest due to their rudeness, the most expensive due to their arrogance and those in between because why break a well ingrained habit, we eventually settled on………… Cable TV, HOT shower (exceptional for Bolivia) and en-suite and breakfast, we crashed.

Dead Things



Only to be faced first thing in the morning, directly in front of the door of our hotel, by the sight and indeed the smell of our resident Llama foetuses. We were slap bang in the middle of the Witches Market. If you ever need powder to banish evil spirits, a concoction to help you pass your driving test, or that mixture to help the man you lust after fall madly in love, just go to La Paz. You can bet and build you future on what they have to offer. Or, on second thoughts, just ask me!!! I’m sure I will have bought one of just what you need…and have one for you friend! Most of the Llamas are very foetal, but some are young, with fur. Not pleasant. Crazy crazy Claire and Ruth, our Irish friends posted their boyfriends one each for a laugh. For some reason I don’t think any of our family or friends reading this would have found it so funny. And I’m sure neither would the customs department if they had gotten past the 27 layers of padding the Bolivian post office insist of smothering their packages with.

Every street in La Paz has a purpose. There is the quintessential tourist street, overflowing with agencies, Israeli takeaways, hat and scarf shops and of course Alpaca. There is the hairdresser street, the electrical goods street (selling their Durabat batteries, not quite lasting as long as their competitor) and of course the Bolivian skirt and hat street. Apparently an English man visited Boliva many years ago and tried to earn his bread and board by flogging bowler hats. He claimed it was all the rage in Europe. (I suppose it may have been for men!) For the first and last time in the history of this country the locals listened and believed our part of the globe (they don’t even have a McDonalds…thank the Lord someone can resist) Bowler hats, but for the opposite sex, are now ingrained in the Bolivian culture. If you are a female and don’t have one, you are a ‘nobody’…or maybe just not ‘Bolivian enough’ and following those westerners in their abominable dress sense!!!! Something was a miss however when he made his sales pitch. Whether it was because he bulk bought very small hats that nobody else wanted, as they had been made by accident, we will never know. But the only place he would ever be able to sell them was this remote little country in Latin America. I don’t know but THEY ARE ALL TOO small. And that is the fashion.

Bolivian men are in hiding. You will rarely see a Bolivian couple together. Women sit on the sides of the road with their home grown produce. All very well when it is a selection of potatoes or corn or some sewing equipment or hats they have made which will inevitably sell in the bitter cold. Especially as they are about 20p. Its when they bring their dead pig, calf or kitten and begin hacking bits off it on the side of the road, closely missing your forehead. 70 million flies having spent the previous 7 hours laying eggs in it, the deadly car fumes of the city having spat all over it and the dogs pissing all over it. (Just following their owner’s example!) The state of the meat is not that much better in the restaurants. It’s no wonder so many people get ill here…. and in Peru. Jez and John with gut rot….and the emersion of Jez’s notorious worm on the side of his chest. Its time to become veggie for a while!

Just looking around La Paz makes you knackered. Thank god for cable…and HOT water. Our dreams would be scary that night!