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Boom, we land in La Paz around 6am, with Vegard beside on the bus, "how was the trip?" Easy on there tiger, it was just half a valium! The city is just waking as we get a taxi to the hostel that we had booked for the next few days caleled Loki, an Isreali owned hostel, known throughout South America for its notorious parties. Mike and Vegard are with me and we all manage to get into the same 6 bed dorm after hanging around for much of the morning, waiting for the room to be vacated. Loki is set not far from the main street, in a huge old building probably housing some 200 odd revellers. A horrible smell met us as we went into the room, obviously from the dudes that had just vacated. Leaving wet shoes in the room or simply not washing aint cool lads let that be known! La Paz is famous for being one of the highest cities in the world sitting at an elevation of 3,650masl but its not the capital, Sucre its southern brother holding that title. Immediately you can feel the altitude, the tightness in your chest tensing up as you crawl up and down the citys steep streets. The city itself sits in a bowl, surrounded in a circle by the towering mountains around, most namely Illimani with its snow capped peaks. The weather during the day is lovely, warm enough for shorts and a t-shirt but at night the wind chill can rattle the bones. First thing we do it to head out for a wander and across town to the famous witches market. Its a hive of small streets where locals trade arts and crafts and dead llama foetse's amongst other things. The reason behind the dead foetse's is that the Bolivians are highly religious or atleast they commit to ancient beliefs of the highly regarded Pacha Mama or mother earth. When building a new house, a dead llama foetse is to be laid amongst the foundations or underneath the front door, an offering to Pacha Mama. A few years back, La Paz was improving its infrastructure and due to the size of it, a dead llama foetse wasnt going to cut it, so workers bribed three down and outs with beer and once they were well oiled they were fired in, alive, with the concrete mix. One poor unfortunate, if thats what you'd call him, escaped and was never seen again. The full offering to Pacha Mama was never fulfilled and the further construction of the buildings were hampered from there on out.
Loki was a hive of entertainment at night, with something different happening each night so all the entertainment needs were well looked after. La Paz was so cheap that you wouldnt even think about how much you were spending because at the end of the day, a lot was nothing. There were many days and nights meeting lots of new people from all over the world, having a few scoops during the day and then heading out at night to tear the preverbial out of it. This of course led to many a late rising in the afternoon so that aint worth writing about. But one night I stayed in, hoping to join the free walking tour the following morning. I arrive at Plaza Sucre at 11am right in front of the famous San Pedro prison, its trials and tribulations made famous by the book "Marching Powder". The prison was the first thing we learnt about, a minimal security prison right, smack bang in the centre of La Paz. The prison houses a few hundred people where some of the inmates have jobs inside the walls, for example running their own little shops and in some cases they have their families living with them. The main source of income however is the sale of coke outside of the prison walls. This income then making them more influential people in comparison to the common inmate. The women and children of the convicts who reside there arent allowed to come and leave as they choose, but we were lucky enough that day to see some of the children playing in the plaza's lawns before they had to go back behind bars. During the tour, we cross a main road but whats comical about this is that they have people dressed up in zebra costumes to help people cross the manic streets. The people are brought from orphanages to the city to integrate them a bit more into society more than what their used to and its a fun thing its seems for them to do, holding for photos with gringos and what not. The fruit markets there are something to behold, with strong Bolivian women hunched down by their wares waiting for someone to purchase. For what I've seen in these types of markets is that they have so much produce on display, I dont know who buys all the stuff in a day. We're not talking a few small bags of veg but literaly a few square metres of fruit and veg that they have to lug all the way from the countryside to the market and back again the following day. Theres no sign of any males there working either, for in South America it seems that the women are the business people, they control the coin, with their husbands and children working the land never to be seen in the towns and cities. The women also are always dressed in traditional wares, it wouldnt be my taste in female fashion but I'm told that what they wear to work is in comparison to the catwalks of Milan and Paris. The dress for example, are three if not five layers deep, not that I had a fiddle and its adorned in gold lacing. They also wear a lot of jewellery and some have gold grills, with some of the US rappers not having a patch on what they hold in their mouths. The jewellery can sometimes be up to $5,000 drapped around their necks and when they go boozing at night they have their own bodyguards. Not for their own safety but that their so happy when their on the sauce that they can give their hard earned jewellery to a friend, the bodyguard then stepping in to stop this friendly handover. Obviously this has happened before, so waking up with a thumper is one thing but handing over $5,000 in bling bling is another! Later that night I hit the hay early as I have to be up at cockcrow to do Death Road. Around 11pm, I'm awakened from my slumber by goings on in the bar downstairs, so it get up and go outside for a goo. There I am, looking over the railings into the bar area below still in me smalls wondering what was going on. The bar had been raided by the police for drugs and caught two unsuspecting guests. One guy had coke on him and the other had prescription drugs from a injury he received whilst on Death Row. Still he was arrested and was brought to the cop shop along with the other, this occurence leading to the downfall of Loki whilst I was there. The cops introduced and all out ban on alcohol for the foreseeable future so having a few jars there was not going to happen.
Myself, Mike and Vegard headed across town to this small cafe for breakfast at 6:30 and this was where our death road experience was to start. We wait and wait and wait until around 7:45 the guide finally shows 15mins late with some good and some bad news. The bus we were to get had been involved in a accident with a motorcyclist and inturn the bus was impounded. But the good news was that another bus was on its was but it would be late. Fine, we sit and chat and wait enjoying our coffee on the house. Eventually, the bus arrives, some two hours late and we all pile in like sardines minus the tomato sauce. Before we could hit the road, we had to go to a central bus depot where the bus had to be inspected for its license and first aid equipment, so fair play lads. The bus bursts off up the road but we stop 200 metres from the depot. The driver gets out and legs it.Five mins later, the guide is gone too telling us nothing about where he's going. We're left on the side of the road on the outskirts of La Paz for 45mins and my patience was beginning to thin. A cold empanada and a fag didnt even calm me down. Eventually the guide is back with the hugest of apologies. It turns out that the new driver that we had got, his license had gone out of date the day previous and thats why he burst out of the gates of the depot hoping not to get caught. More waiting and waiting but eventually were off, now five hours behind schedule. All the other companies have long hit Death Road so we wonder if its too late to do the cycle. In fact, it turns out that it was probably the best thing that could happen for us as the road was completely deserted when we arrived. Its heavy enough traffic when theres twenty five in one company all cycling down at the same time, never mind four other companies or so doing it at the same time trying to vy for position. We arrive at long last at the top of a mountain pass where we're given our double suspension bikes to try out and safety gear. The bike gets some time to getting us to as the breaks, thankfully, are so severe that a small pull on either side at the wrong moment will have you head first over the handle bars crying for mammy. After a quick donation to the Pacha Mama, a spinkle of poitin on the ground and on our lips, were off down the road. The first section of road for the next 24km or so is pure asphalt, like a feckin race track and it was all down hill. I hadnt cycled a bike in years so I was a bit wary but just like riding a bike or like a duck to water, you never forget and full speed was asked for. Once all the peddaling was done, it was head down the whole way, leaning in and out of corners to maximise the speeds. It was a super adrenaline rush and werent even on the 'Death Road' at that stage. I enjoyed it so much, I'd be tempted to bypass paying for motor insurance back home and going back on the rotar I enjoyed it that much. We reach a tunnel and we're told to pull over as its too dangerous to go through, instead going on the outside of the tunnel along the first bit of uneven gravel we were to experience that day. The double suspension bikes had no mercy and bounced us along the road while we 'white knuckled' the handle bars. All of us came out the other side unscaved except for one girl who lost control doing 0km p/h and landed in the ditch. Thankfully she was fine and continued on. The bus then picked us up and brought us to a higher point as we had paid for downhill biking, not uphill and downhill biking. We were now in the valley of the Yunga's, a valley that leads all the way from La Paz down deep into the Bolivian jungle when all the snort is made. The security can be tight on that road, so the police check all cars and HGV's that go through for any party enhancers. After a short drive, we hit the gravel track that is the 'Death Road' which leads all the way down to a small village called Corricro. But before we go mad, we have a spot of lunch and admire the valley below and around us. We're blest with the weather also, beaming with sun it was, so that even heightened the experience. Soon were on our way and the boys leap out of the starting blocks like hoors to a hundred dollar note. Vegard is so excited he's pulling flips and bounces so I have to tell him to calm down as I dont like making calls to parents! The good thing about the company we went with (Barracuda) was that there were three riders from the company always with us, one leading, one in the middle and one riding at the back, so not matter what your experience you could go as slow or as mind blowing fast as you wanted. I chose the later after having no riding experience (on bikes) in years and was loving it, yet I have a bit of a problem negotiating left handers at speed. Every two or three kilometres we'd pull over as a group to regroup, get a rest and take some photos. The road for the 95% majority of it is super thin about 2-3 metres wide in most places. Huge rock walls on one side and 600ft drops on the other, so that 2-3metres that you have, you have to make very, very good use of it. The valleys are lush green, teaming with colours and at points along the walls, small and sometimes big waterfalls cascade down, across the road soaking your feet in doing so. But we dont care, if a doctor could measure adrenaline at those points in time, I'm sure the adrenaline that one puts out on that road would break what ever instrument the doc would be using. We pass by the point of the road that we all know well from Top Gears take on the road. The road is even narrower than before and on que, we have to pull over as a truck is coming from the other direction. We stand on the valley side of the road so that the truck, on its blind side wont crush us. If we fall off, we fall off and have some chance they tell us of survival but being crushed by a truck doenst have a great outlook. So for a bit of background on the road, it was in use up till a few years ago in every day use until the road that we had earlier that day cycled on, had opened. Yeah, there was the odd car that used it but during the time that we were on that 61km stretch, only that one truck passed us, so it was quiet or basically unused. Half way through the cycle, I realise that I had enough of going full pelt and instead head for the back of the group, going slow to take in the wonderful scenery, taking photos when I wanted as opposed to waiting for a group stop. The valley floor rises slightly to meet us as we enter some beautiful forests, smells of felled pine and eucalyptus filling the nostrels. Around 4ish, we swing into the small village of Corrico having finished this amazing bike ride, totally covered in s***e but with beaming happy smiles across our faces. A few well earned beers were in order when we got off the bikes and which immediately went straight to the head. We got shower there to freshen up and a meal to keep us going, as the journey back to La Paz was back up the 'Death Road' in the back of a jeep in the black of night, some three hours away.
On a Sunday evening, La Paz has a treat in store for anyone wanting a wrestling fix. Its called Cholita's wresting where basically the main attraction is of Bolivian women in typical dress, who hop in the squared circle and hammer ninety colours of s***e out of each other. Where do I sign? We head out in a bus to one of La Paz's suburbs high up on the side of the bowl that circles the city, a rough enough neighbourhood called El Alto. We're all told to watch our belongings and are ushered into this community centre that has a wrestling ring set up in the middle. The place was packed with locals and gringos alike all waiting for the main event. There was numerous rounds of hilarity and to be honest pure s***eness, but it was the brutal displays of entertainment that made us wanting even more. The wrestlers were not only women but also some butch and not so butch men dressed in outfits that your mother would have made you for a school play, leaving you feeling embarressed as your entered the stage. One flute had been on a couple of times, we knew it because he never changed his socks or boots but his one amazing costume was his black Adidas pants, a black top with a skeleton print on it and a skeleton mask. Sher he was pure s***e but he was the crowd favourite up the against the baddy that the Bolivian Vince McMahon had made of him. There was booing and jeering aloud but what really got the crowd going was the heckling some Isreali boys were giving Skelator (I can tell Isreali's from a mile away). Skelator then urges them to come and put their mouth on the line and knowing the Isreali martial art that they learn in the army, Krav Maga, coupled with their high esteme of themselves and their strenths, they hop the barrier and launch into the ring. Skelator wasnt prepared for that, nor was the insurance company, so Skelley jumps out the other side and back to the safety of back stage which was behind a curtain, with a lot of children guarding it. Hilarious altogether. Next up was the main event, the Cholita's. One young girl who, by Bolivian standards was alright versus this absolute beast of a woman that probably ate steel for breakfast, dinner and tea. Of course, the big wan pummelled the poor girl so badly that she had to whisked off, not on a strecher but by three men, her gee, the poor girl, hanging out as she went. The crowd didnt like this so on came the fruit and veg. The place was absolutely destroyed with bananas and tomatoes but what really shut the b**** up was a unidentified plactic bottle of water that smacked her good-o! We retreat out of the community centre not knowing what we had seen. It was pure and utter s***e but I'd go back again for the comical value, a perfect way to kill a Sunday afternoon rather than having to sit down and watch an episode of "Fairly s***ty".
A week or so into my stay in La Paz, I come back in the early afternoon to find a little present in reception for me, in the shape of Shane Coyle and Emma Forde, two of me bessies from home. It was so good to see them after so long as they too had been having a whirlwind adventure also through central and south America. Shane and Emma didnt travel light as they had a few more honcho's in tow with them namely Remi, Frazier, Scott, Gill, Thimo and Sara. It was the best place to meet these people as the next few days were to be utter carnage. I wont go on writing about our escapades as the days and nights that rolled together ended up with train wrecks of hangovers the following mornings. Because of the lock down that was still happening in Loki, we said no more to this s***e and headed around the corner to an Irish owned hostel called Wild Rover, again notorious for its sessions. I of course felt alot more at home there with what the Irish stew on the menu which was actually delicious, photos from home drapping the walls and the manager having the thickest 'waherford' accent to show us to our rooms. Amongst all the boozing and craziness that went on, the aim of the game for the next few days was to book a tour back to the Amazon jungle, this time on the Bolivian side but also to explore the Pampas, which is basically the wetlands. Anaconda country. Amazon experience numero dos for me!
- comments
emz DEADLY P :)
Tony Sound like your having a ball :) - Good plan moving out of the 1st hostel :)