La Paz. The highest capital city in the world. I have been here for nearly two weeks now. Usually, tourists get stuck here because of Bolivia´s notorious roadblocks. But Tash and I are stuck here because we can´t bring ourselves to leave.
We arrived on the 9th January, and immediately began our customary exploration of the town on foot. I had been before, in 2005, and not much has changed. There is less litter, less visible poverty, less strange smells, and more tourists. We soon bumped into two friends we met on the farm where we worked in Argentina, who informed us of a very good, cheap alojamiento (very basic hostel) only two blocks from our expensive, draughty place. So, we changed hostels, and we are still here!
So, for the last week or so, we have been based in the ominous sounding, but completely harmless Witches Market. The witches are a nice bunch actually. A few of them look like centuries old hags, and they are very brash and sometimes downright rude to foreigners, but I like them. One sold me a bag full of leaves from the forest to help with a sore throat I had, and, despite my scepticism, it worked! (Or maybe it was the antibiotics Maria, our hostel owner, gave me?)
On Friday night, we went to a peña in a cobbled street that has been standing since the 1700s. I was nervous, as the audience looked upmarket and old aged, and I felt ridiculously underdressed, but as soon as the lights went down, and the party started it was brilliant.
A peña is essentially a working men´s club for Bolivians, except the entertainment is good. We were treated to traditional dances from all over Bolivia, including one in which a man dressed as a giant devil did battle with a camp-looking angel. The angel won unfortunately.
Then, once the dancing stopped, on came Pepe Murillo and his Bolivians. Pepe is a charango (like a ukulele) player who knows how to work a crowd. He looked like a cross between Adrien Brody and The Fonz, and, after asking everyone in the audience where they were from, he and his band would play a song from that country. He amazingly sang in Japanese and German, and his bassist played a killer rock´n´roll bassline by Bill Haley and The Comets. No surprises who they chose to cover when we said we were from England! (you guessed it, Los Beatles) After Pepe had wrapped up with some Latin American classics, I thought the show was over. But, never!
People coming from Bolivia into Argentina always talked about how they despised the food here. In fact, they launched so much invective at bolivian cuisine I was worried I might actually become thin when I came here. But, they lie! The food here is absolutely...adequate.You can get a decent meal in a restaurant for about a fiver, or go for cheap eats, on the street or with a traditional almuerzo. Almuerzo (lunch) in La Paz is a three course carbrohydrate bonanza. After the starter soup, which always contains potatoes, rice or pasta, some floating vegetables and a bone, what´s for mains? Potatoes, rice, pasta? How about all three, accompanied with a big piece of fried chicken? But, for between 50 - 80 pence, you can´t complain. In fact, I love it! What lets the almuerzo down is the postre (dessert). Usually chocolate that looks (and tastes) like another brown sticky substance, or, my favourite, a banana with a dollop of marmalade. Yum! I usually skip dessert.
The alternative to almuerzo is the street food, which is greasy, cheap, ridden with diseases, and delicious. You can get salteñas (like chicken pasties) for breakfast, burgers for lunch and empañadas (like beef pasties!) for dinner; all three for ten shiny Bolivianos. (one shiny pound)
The other day Maria took us to the market in El Alto. El Alto (literally - high) is the city above La Paz, on a high plateau at the head of the valley that La Paz spills down. Walking around the market, led by a 4" Bolivian, we four gringos (we went with samson and Merlin, our friends from the farm) stood out like four sore thumbs. There were no other gringos for miles, and we were sandwiched into narrow alleyways. I was sure a pickpocket was going to relieve me of my wallet. Sure enough, an old man "accidentally" spilled dirt on my backpack. I knew this was a distraction, so reached for my pocket. Someone elses hand was trying to furtively weasel his way in there! I yanked the thief´s hand away and started yelling "F Off" in the angriest, scariest Spanish voice I could muster. When we got out of the crowd, my hand practically glued to my pocket, I checked my backpack. All present and correct. They had tried to steal from Merlin´s bacpack as well, but everyone knows you can´t steal from a wizard. It´s impossible. Despite nothing being taken, Maria was very upset, and ashamed of her countrymen.
But, other than the near-robbery, the market was brilliant. Without Maria to lead us through the labyrinthine maze of streets, we would have become very, very lost. They had 4 streets of mobile phones, about 5 city blocks crammed with clothes (all genuine designer of course), you could purchase puppies if you so desire, chickens, (dead or alive) car parts, flags, police uniforms, TVs, buttons, amplifiers, cheese, llama wool, llama foetus, llama jumpers or llama meat. Anything! It was a hectic, chaotic place. Like a giant Argos superstore with no rules, and a million checkouts. Madness.
We have been culture vultures in La Paz too. It´s not all greasy food and crime fighting! We went to the excellent National Art Museum, which displayed works by Bolivia´s Indigenous Movement, who, instead of placing light bulbs on the floor, chopping sharks in half or flinging poo at the ceiling, make real art that says something.
There are many more tales to come from La Paz, but for now, I´m off to haggle with a witch about a llama foetus.
La Paz - Me Encanta
We arrived on the 9th January, and immediately began our customary exploration of the town on foot. I had been before, in 2005, and not much has changed. There is less litter, less visible poverty, less strange smells, and more tourists. We soon bumped into two friends we met on the farm where we worked in Argentina, who informed us of a very good, cheap alojamiento (very basic hostel) only two blocks from our expensive, draughty place. So, we changed hostels, and we are still here!
So, for the last week or so, we have been based in the ominous sounding, but completely harmless Witches Market. The witches are a nice bunch actually. A few of them look like centuries old hags, and they are very brash and sometimes downright rude to foreigners, but I like them. One sold me a bag full of leaves from the forest to help with a sore throat I had, and, despite my scepticism, it worked! (Or maybe it was the antibiotics Maria, our hostel owner, gave me?)
On Friday night, we went to a peña in a cobbled street that has been standing since the 1700s. I was nervous, as the audience looked upmarket and old aged, and I felt ridiculously underdressed, but as soon as the lights went down, and the party started it was brilliant.
A peña is essentially a working men´s club for Bolivians, except the entertainment is good. We were treated to traditional dances from all over Bolivia, including one in which a man dressed as a giant devil did battle with a camp-looking angel. The angel won unfortunately.
Then, once the dancing stopped, on came Pepe Murillo and his Bolivians. Pepe is a charango (like a ukulele) player who knows how to work a crowd. He looked like a cross between Adrien Brody and The Fonz, and, after asking everyone in the audience where they were from, he and his band would play a song from that country. He amazingly sang in Japanese and German, and his bassist played a killer rock´n´roll bassline by Bill Haley and The Comets. No surprises who they chose to cover when we said we were from England! (you guessed it, Los Beatles) After Pepe had wrapped up with some Latin American classics, I thought the show was over. But, never!
People coming from Bolivia into Argentina always talked about how they despised the food here. In fact, they launched so much invective at bolivian cuisine I was worried I might actually become thin when I came here. But, they lie! The food here is absolutely...adequate.You can get a decent meal in a restaurant for about a fiver, or go for cheap eats, on the street or with a traditional almuerzo. Almuerzo (lunch) in La Paz is a three course carbrohydrate bonanza. After the starter soup, which always contains potatoes, rice or pasta, some floating vegetables and a bone, what´s for mains? Potatoes, rice, pasta? How about all three, accompanied with a big piece of fried chicken? But, for between 50 - 80 pence, you can´t complain. In fact, I love it! What lets the almuerzo down is the postre (dessert). Usually chocolate that looks (and tastes) like another brown sticky substance, or, my favourite, a banana with a dollop of marmalade. Yum! I usually skip dessert.
The alternative to almuerzo is the street food, which is greasy, cheap, ridden with diseases, and delicious. You can get salteñas (like chicken pasties) for breakfast, burgers for lunch and empañadas (like beef pasties!) for dinner; all three for ten shiny Bolivianos. (one shiny pound)
The other day Maria took us to the market in El Alto. El Alto (literally - high) is the city above La Paz, on a high plateau at the head of the valley that La Paz spills down. Walking around the market, led by a 4" Bolivian, we four gringos (we went with samson and Merlin, our friends from the farm) stood out like four sore thumbs. There were no other gringos for miles, and we were sandwiched into narrow alleyways. I was sure a pickpocket was going to relieve me of my wallet. Sure enough, an old man "accidentally" spilled dirt on my backpack. I knew this was a distraction, so reached for my pocket. Someone elses hand was trying to furtively weasel his way in there! I yanked the thief´s hand away and started yelling "F Off" in the angriest, scariest Spanish voice I could muster. When we got out of the crowd, my hand practically glued to my pocket, I checked my backpack. All present and correct. They had tried to steal from Merlin´s bacpack as well, but everyone knows you can´t steal from a wizard. It´s impossible. Despite nothing being taken, Maria was very upset, and ashamed of her countrymen.
But, other than the near-robbery, the market was brilliant. Without Maria to lead us through the labyrinthine maze of streets, we would have become very, very lost. They had 4 streets of mobile phones, about 5 city blocks crammed with clothes (all genuine designer of course), you could purchase puppies if you so desire, chickens, (dead or alive) car parts, flags, police uniforms, TVs, buttons, amplifiers, cheese, llama wool, llama foetus, llama jumpers or llama meat. Anything! It was a hectic, chaotic place. Like a giant Argos superstore with no rules, and a million checkouts. Madness.
We have been culture vultures in La Paz too. It´s not all greasy food and crime fighting! We went to the excellent National Art Museum, which displayed works by Bolivia´s Indigenous Movement, who, instead of placing light bulbs on the floor, chopping sharks in half or flinging poo at the ceiling, make real art that says something.
There are many more tales to come from La Paz, but for now, I´m off to haggle with a witch about a llama foetus.
La Paz - Me Encanta
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