#24 la paz, bolivia #25 coroico, bolivia

more photos to come...

#24 la paz
We arrived in La Paz, the unofficial capital of Bolivia, after a 12-hour overnight bus ride from Uyuni - prolonged because of a miner's strike which meant we had to change buses in Oruro. As we walked out of the bus station, exhausted and bleary-eyed, it struck me that there is something beguilingly apocalyptic about the city of La Paz. Buses that predate the invention of computers spew black clouds of fumes onto the gridlocked streets. There are gas masks for sale on every corner. Shoeshine boys in full-face balaclavas roam the streets in search of a quick buck. Men pee openly on the streets. There are police and military personnel everywhere. Street fights are not uncommon: on our first night we saw a slow-motion fight between two youths who were off their heads - it ended when a cop walked over and pepper sprayed them. On day two we saw a much more vicious attack: a young woman mauling a guy's face with a piece of cement in a crowded plaza - at the same time she was carrying a baby on her back. La Paz also hosts one of the world's most unique prisons - San Pedro prison - where inmates who are wealthy enough can build their own luxury housing and live with their family behind the prison walls. (We walked past the prison one day at visiting hours and we could see the inner courtyard full of inmates.) We were also told that inside the prison is where you can buy the best and cheapest cocaine in La Paz - $2 a gram.
But this city of 1.5 million people is not without its charms. At 3600m in altitude and located in a stunning valley only 5km wide, driving into La Paz to see the majestic urban sprawl is an experience not to be missed. The stunning, snow-capped peak of Illimani looms in the background.
Although Bolivia is one of South America's poorest countries (I think Paraguay has the prized top position), the Bolivian people are friendly (and less inclined to harrass tourists for money than many other South American countries). It is also the most indigenous of any other country in South America - 50 per cent of the population claim to have pure native American blood.
I have become obsessed with the little dumpling women in their traditional top-hats and full skirts, and I have made it my mission to photograph them (as you can see) - which is no easy task as they have an uncanny ability to spot a snap-happy tourist. And there seems to be a huge age gap in the women here: one minute they're young, skinny girls in jeans and t-shirts; the next minute they're rotund mamas in twenty layers of clothing - forty going on sixty.
One Sunday night we joined a tour to see "cholita wrestling" - a live wrestling match featuring Bolivian men and women. When we walked into the stadium, a guy dressed up as a gimp was hurling another guy dressed up as a Ninja Turtle. The role play scenario was fairly clear cut: old school "good guy" wrestlers in their speedos, boots and wide belts took on the "bad guys" in their gimp outfits - first the good guys got their arses kicked, then at the last minute they fought back and won. We were told it was 50 per cent fake, but, er, I don't think we saw one real slap or punch the whole 2.5 hours we were there! Although it seems like inappropriate entertainment for children, most of the audience were families with young kids, and the kids were the ones who got into it the most - looking really upset and concerned when the good guy was hurt. So funny. But the most fun was had in throwing vegetables and fruit at the baddies (which is allowed if it was in small pieces) - unfortunately a group of foreigners took it a bit too far and were constantly hurling food at all the players.
We spent a day exploring the city of La Paz on foot as we were trying to track down an old address for Kris' great aunt and uncle who used to live in La Paz during the war - that's the second world war (they lived in La Paz from 1938-1952). First we visited the electoral records office, and they were very helpful but didn't have records for that far back. Next we went to a Jewish organisation based in La Paz and they too didn't have records that far back. Someone suggested the police might have records that dated that far, but we didn't feel like struggling in Spanish with a few stern-faced cops who would probably be after a bribe (call me a cynic).
We did, however, get to see the swanky side of the city; it's much more developed than we expected - fun parks, dental advertisements... there's even a hairdresser for dogs in the posh end of town.
July also seems to be a prime time for festivals in La Paz - we saw one almost every second day: full marching brass bands and dancing women spilled onto the streets and stopped traffic for hours on end - apparently for a several week-long celebration of the founding of the area.

#25 coroico
What we didn't know when we booked an 80km downhill mountain bike ride along "The World's Most Dangerous Road" from La Paz to Coroico is that there are actually six painful kilometres of uphill riding as well. Hardly 30 minutes into the ride, and we had to downshift gears and crawl at a snail's pace, puffing and panting, along a climbing road while trucks and buses whizzed by. But with the hard stuff over, we launched into the fun part - careening along a dirt road with sheer vertical cliff drops just metres (or less) away, dodging rocks (which could easily throw a novice rider), puddles, other riders and the odd vehicle. Starting the ride at 4700m altitude, and finishing at 1100m altitude, the journey felt much like an amusement park ride, but with more skill involved. Strangely enough, we were told to ride on the lane CLOSEST to the cliff edge (supposedly because cars are less likely to crush you on this side), so this meant that at times we were riding less than a metre from an unbarricaded edge - scary stuff. Luckily we had top-of-the-range bikes (worth $2500) and full protective gear (although the one time I took my overpants off was when I got fully splattered with mud). Although we were told not to check out the view while we were riding, from the few glimpses I got the view was amazing (except for when we were ensconced in a bank of clouds mid-way through the ride).
The road got its "most dangerous" title after numerous deaths from car accidents on the road. However, a new road from La Paz to Coroico has been built so vehicles hardly ever use this road anymore. There has been the odd bike rider death over the years: one guy who was playfully pushed by a friend but ended up going over the edge; a girl who was pushed off by a vehicle; and another guy who was fooling around with tricks and - whoops - slipped.
But Kris and I made it down intact (me trailing at the end with most of the other girls for the most part), with a top speed of maybe 40kph. The weather changed dramatically as we rode through the different altitudes - double gloves and beanies at the top, and shorts and t-shirts in the humid weather at the bottom.
At the end of the ride we had lunch at this great animal sanctuary in Coroico, and played with the various animals: a baby oscillot (like a cheetah), a horny ram (who loved me), spider monkeys, yellow monkeys and macaws.
The town of Coroico is a really sweet, humid retreat spread over the side of a valley in the Bolivian wilderness. There are quaint cobbled streets, colourful buildings and postcard-perfect views everywhere you look. The only downsides are having to walk up or down hundreds of steps to get anywhere (who needs a ThighMaster?), and the scourge of blood-hungry insects that feed on travellers' limbs and leave scabby wounds - as my legs attest (they couldn't get through Kris' leg hair though).