Street Scene, La Paz

Illimani (21,125' / 6439m) dominates the skyline

After returning to Uyuni from three spectacular, freezing days on the Salar, Z and I wolfed down a pizza and immediately boarded an overnight bus to La Paz. Though it was billed as a ´cama´ bus, our chairs didn´t really recline that much, but at least there were blankets, and, more importantly, a toilet. (Of course, a toilet at the top and back of a tall bus on dirt roads, with a door that doesn´t lock, makes for a real bronco-ride experience, but bruises and all, we´re still happy to have had it...) Such are the luxuries of Bolivian overland travel!



The road was bumpy, dusty, and at times, downright noisy as a group of boisterous Bolivianos boarded at 3 in the morning in Oruro. We arrived in La Paz in the dark and first saw a gorgeous bowl of yellow lights under jagged mountains. Then as dawn broke we were able to check into a hostel and get some rest. (Z got in a few hours of shut-eye while I barely managed an hour´s rest in 10 hours of travel.)


Indefinite street repairs make walking a challenge at this altitude

La Paz is not only very high (3,650 m) but also beautiful and chaotic.



A very local breakfast in Bolivia consists of api (hot purple cinnamon-y corn drink) con buñuelos (deep-fried sweet bread) and we were quick to procure ample sustanence for our first forays around town. I had taken a cooking class in Sucre that taught us how to make buñuelos, but those were much more like donuts, with a donut´s requisite heaviness. The street-side variety is far superior. Plus it´s the size of a platter.

The fresh fruit selection here is incredible


Orange juice vendors abound

In many ways, La Paz reminds us of places we visited in India last fall. The air is incredibly dry, a rabbit warren of cobbled streets and mud-straw buildings cling to the hillsides, and public transportation operates with a logic of its own. The most notable differences are that women are visible here, nobody stares at us, and people are affectionate in public, which is great. Also, voceros on buses holler out their whole routes (partly because many people here can´t read -- logical when you think about it).

Balaclava-clad shoeshine guys: Z jumped about a foot when one offered her a shine


Delightful local micros crowd the streets


It´s good to know local graffiti kids appreciate las llamas

One of our favorite outings was to Inglesia San Francisco, which was founded in 1548 and has undergone repairs and reconstruction ever since. Below are some images from inside, out, and above.


Where fertility symbolism mingles with Catholic iconography


A guardian at the church entrance


Within the hallowed halls


The roof and its chessmen-like ornamentations

Saint Francis loves the deer...


...and the rabbits


Perhaps the most imaginatively colored J.C. ever


Can you tell that we´re happy to be in the sun?

La Paz also boasts an ingenious, if rather confusing, network of walkways that lead to a mirador (lookout) and children´s park. After a few false starts, advice from small children, and at least one case of fence-jumping, we made it to the top.


The zig-zags are the pathway -- we followed some of them, anyway...


Banked walls and rental bikes...fun for all ages!

Another unexpected treat was meeting up with an old friend from an entirely different world. I had originally known Karin as a member of the all-women punk band Spitboy, who I saw many times in the mid-90s. She left the Bay Area and started up a downhill mountain bike tour company with her husband. They also have two rad kids living the high life with them in the city of peace.

Then:

Karin is playing bass in the lower right image (Intermission fanzine, 1992)

Now:

With Alistair, Connor, and Kale...rockers, all (kung-fuers, too)

In La Paz, more delights await us around any corner (and there are many!).