Arrived in La Paz in the evening of January 18th. When my feet hit the ground after my first night of sleep, I could tell the altitude was going to be a force to be dealt with. My stay, fyi, is $16.22/night for a queen bed, attached bathroom, 2 hand-painted mural walls, and continental breakfast— I've been waiting 6 weeks to get to these kinds of prices! My next place, btw, is the same but for $15/night!
My "Buddy Rob" was giving me grief about my "everything is expensive" bitchings. My theory is if you're gonna give me a developing nation environment, you can't charge me (nearly) developed nation prices! Last year in Poland, we got both. Serious bang for buck!!!
Altitude Is No Joke
My hike around kicked my ass. The "Centro Historico" is very hilly, and if you go down, gravity doesn't bring you back up. I felt like a Neanderthal walking back up: panting through my mouth, sweating, hunched over, knuckles nearly dragging on the ground. Good god, I thought a heartattack was imminent.
That day I scored a .25 cent fresh-squeezed OJ and a chicken noodle soup off a street vendor for $1.50. I was sitting beside a local lady, literally on the curb of the street, while enjoying the chicken noodle fruits of my gathering. I was happy and amped to have found my niche.
And Then the "Troubles" Began
That evening, though, is when the "Troubles" began. Not really like the Irish "Troubles", mine began with tummy grumbling and serious bathroom time. Long story short, this lasted 4 nights. Only the first night was bad, but it lingered for days. Between the illness, altitude, and my cold, damp room, the bug dragged out, and I stayed room-bound. I figured it was better for all!
The Hermit in the Hotel
Among the hotel staff, there were hushed whisperings and supposed sightings of a "Hermit in the hotel". It dawned on me that it started happening after I asked one of the cleaning staff for a change of sheets and a "freshen up" of my bathroom (4 nights after my arrival and "all that" in between). Since then, the cleaning lady turned the other way when she saw me in the hallway, and when serving me breakfast, she nearly threw it at me while giving me the side-eye.
That little errand jades her perspective of all Americans at this point. Sorry, I couldn't prolong it any longer. Living like that posed a toxicity to my inner self. I couldn't reconcile who I was at that point anymore unless I took drastic measures. It's scandalous and will be remembered historically. When I die, an aberration of my spirit will be relegated to the hallways of this hotel, that is, until I somehow find peace from the horrors within.
Re-entering Civilization
I finally went out to check on Earth 5 days later to go Telerifico (gondola) riding around to see the city from high. In the back of my mind, I was expecting to witness the end of an apocalyptic occurrence. Where I then find myself as the sole survivor, sans the room I find with 72 virgins (thanks Allah), ready to repopulate the earth, start a new government, coin new money featuring Seamonkeys on the front and Unicorns on the flip, and begin a new religion... and then I'd go back to my clean room for a nap after all those doings.
Riding the Telerifico
As I digress, La Paz has these multiple strings of gondolas criss-crossing the city so people can get long distances without the price of time using ground transport. There were people at each station diligently cleaning all surfaces, and the gondolas were in great health and very clean. I wanted to see the city from up high. Unexplainably cool, as the city is in a deep valley, and the buildings were all staggered upward to the plateau, where more of the outer city lies. That portion is also in a vast valley, totally flanked by mountains, some snow-covered.
The gondolas were an easy way to view the city from a high perspective. Granted, lots of poor, but pockets of industry, business, and wealth were present. Check out the pix closely to see the distant mountains, and the internal hilly terrains. Many buildings are still 'raw' looking.
"Unfinished brick buildings are common in La Paz as a tax-avoidance strategy and a practical method for incremental, owner-funded construction. Buildings are often left without paint or finishing to appear under construction, which keeps taxes low, while exposed rebar allows for future expansion."
The Mega Market
I jumped off in an area noted as a fruits/veggies market. That is a vast understatement. This is a monstrous hub of food for this region: eggs, veggies, fruits, nuts... This is beyond my ability to enumerate the number of humans and goods that were involved. If one were to count all the blocks, east to west and north to south, it would have been multiple square kilometers worth! We could buy a few items for supper, or trucks were leaving with bulk to supply their communities.
This is where the little Bolivian ladies get their items, pack them in these traditional, brightly colored woven cloths, and spread them out down in the city center to sell to the consumers; a back-breaking, thankless way to make money.
I've said this before in past travels to this region, and maybe even in this time's travelogue, but next time you go to your grocery store and are perusing the fruit/veggie aisles, remember, far more of the fresh produce in our stores is imported, much of it from Latin America. If that pipeline shut off, most everywhere in North America would feel like a fresh food desert nearly overnight. The price jack would surely be unaffordable to the majority of the population. I've seen so many produce items that I've never even seen before by us.
Friday: A Big Christian-ish Event
A big Christianish event happened this weekend. Oh, pray tell, Erich, how did you divine this to be such a mystical occasion? Well, I'll tell ya. Beyond my innately pious nature, I had already planned to tour the Cathedral on Friday. Pure happenstance, not some kind of guiding light or magical incense wafting about, conjuring up the spirits, moving me to that specific location. Fate, maybe, though.
Upon arrival, tonnes of people were sitting on all the many steps leading up to the church. At first, I thought they were there to greet me as their new leader, sweeping them off their (proverbial) feets to a promised land. But they just sat there doing what Christians do when sitting on Christian steps: Christianisms.
The church was full of parishioners, and the Priestlings floated about in full regalia. I went in and toured it nonetheless. Hey, I'm a "Recovering Catholic", paid my Catholic dues, and lived to tell about it, albeit still scarred inside. The whole thing was seemingly about Mary. Not to be confused with that one scene in the movie, "What About Mary"! It'd be wrong to even visualize such a deduction.
During my touring, I surmised they were wrapping up the mass as they looked up into the ether and pronounced Gracias to spirits unseen. Photographers abound that day. A procession was forming, and everyone was happy about the unfolding event. In my pea-brain, things were starting to get weird. I pretended to be a photographer, got into the outgoing lane, and took a few pix from the head of the snake.
The procession picked up energy as it progressed out onto the steps to meet the step-bound humans. Outside, there was much fun to be had. Eventually, the procession started down the street, shaped by 100's of Christians as if off to watch the lion fights in the Colosseum.
This is when the Christian rubber meets the road, and where any righteous and God-fearing man would follow the procession. Meanwhile, the Sinner is left behind to further bask in his shame and despair. I gotta admit, I was gettin' caught up on the wave and was gettin' in on this Christian fun and beginning to fall in line like just another sheep, when I realized I was hungry and went in search of some Caldo de Pollo instead. I sense I may be judged as others come to some sort of realization about this turn of events. With all the best intentions, as per the above inverse definition of the Saint, does that still mark me as a Sinner?!
Saturday: The Festival of Abundance
Day 2 of this puzzling Christian affair. I was on my way to the National Art Museum, but as soon as I hit the sidewalk outside of my hotel, everywhere I looked, and all along my way to the museum (which, btw, is next door to the Cathedral and the hypocenter of all things Christian-ish), there were people in the streets and many stalls set up. This time, I knew better to think they were here to praise me as some type of omniscient white deity.
The sale of some type of idol representation of the US dollar and Boliviano cash was happening. I just read this dealio is dubbed the "Festival of Abundance", a long-standing cultural and religious tradition here. Tens of thousands visit the fair, buy miniature representational items of what they wish to receive in the coming year (cars, houses, food, cash mentioned above...).
I witnessed multiple shamans bestowing their ceremonial blessings upon household items, imbuing them with the power to ward off evil spirits and recharging them with positive energy. A very traditional, yet deeply talismanic manifestation.
Sunday: From Nothing to Everything
Took it really easy for the most part that morning, packing my tornado room in readiness for an early morning bus ride out to Peru. I wanted to do something, and THEN, it hit me. I found a dual mission in the same area, a long uphill walk and a gondola ride away. Again, a stunning ride high above La Paz, and I was there in ground zero of a huge market day.
I can't even explain how sprawling this is. "Cited as the largest in South America. Covering over 5 square kilometers, it extends for miles through the city's streets, featuring thousands of vendors selling everything from car parts, clothing, and electronics to traditional items like llama fetuses." I bought a much-needed sleeveless jacket for $4.50.
Cholita Wrestling!
After a long meander, finding food, and more meandering in child-like marvel, I headed towards item 2, my most prized find of the trip. Cholita Wrestling (also known as Lucha Libre de Cholitas) = featuring indigenous Aymara and Quechua women—known as Cholitas—performing theatrical, high-energy wrestling matches in their full traditional attire: bowler hats, embroidered shawls, and multi-layered pollera skirts.
As a white, they sold me a high-end ticket: $5. For that, I was privileged to sit ringside.
As the "wrastlers" came out in full regalia in full showmanship, doing their pre-wrastling warm-up, passing the crowd to amp them up. I usually got special attention (handshakes, fist bumps...) as they strutted by, especially since I was sitting beside some lucha-libra OG's who were specially mentioned pre-game, and I was the only other gringo in the place. He also sat ringside, and I thought I was special!?
Admittedly, I was disappointed that there were more men wrastlers than Cholitas. Either way, much fun was had! My first Lucha Libre occasion was in Mexico City, BUT they didn't have the Cholitas— I bore witness to a rare event.
La Paz After Dark
I took the loooong trip back home again. Seeing La Paz at night from on high was extra special! My actual walk home, remember this is a Sunday night at this point, was filled with all sorts of night creatures. I passed many event halls full of partygoers, of which a few were swaying on the streets to find their way home, and areas of street merchants were still in full swing.
All in all, a nothing Sunday turned into an amazing one! A very unexpected day. Glad I had already packed, I took a hot shower, and got into bed in anticipation of my early morning bus trip to Peru.
