Casting Votes in the Highest Capital in the World

  La Paz, Bolivia
Wednesday, January 28, 2009

The city from roof, look hard for the snow!

Local woman walking down the hill

At 4,000 metres above sea level, the upper city of La Paz is the highest capital in the world.  We are staying in the lower city, at a mere  3, 690 metres, which gives an idea of how far the city sprawls up the walls of the rocky canyon in which it is located.  We should be well acclimatised by now, but itīs still someting of an effort walking up the steep cobbled streets around our hotel.  The hotel, by the way, has hot water... after a couple of weeks in unheated hotels with tepid water, this is a serious luxury, and I have been at risk of seeing more of the shower cubicle than the city...

Trad clothes, modern mobile phone

Local percussion... llama toenails!

We had aborted our plan to spend a night in Copacabana, on the Bolivian side of Lake Titicaca, when we learned that there was a national political referendum to change the Constitution, taking place in Bolivia on our planned travel date, and the law bans all vehicles on the countryīs roads on this day, meaning we would have to spend 2 nights in Copacabana... and having stopped there for lunch en-route from Puno to La Paz, we realised it was another backpacker ghetto, with streets full of gaunt, dreadlocked, vacant-looking young dudes, sprawling about in their locally-acquired stripey baggy tourist trousers and ponchos... aaarrrggghhhhh!  So the traffic ban gave us a lucky escape and we were in La Paz in time for dinner at a īBritish Indian Curry Houseī... even though we could not order a beer due to votong restrictions, it was sooooo good to eat a saag paneer!

Women and babies shopping at market

Woman setting out her bakery wares on street

It was a very scenic journey, on high roads, winding around the Bolivian side of Titicaca, sparkling in the sun, and, as we neared the city, clear views of some of the snow-capped mountains which circle the capital.  Driving through the rundown city outskirts, there were piles of summer snow on the sides of the road

Ponchos hanging for sale

Woman and baby on back

and extensive flooded sections as a result of recent heavy rain.  But none of this halted the chaotic streetside trading being carried out, as locals bustled from stall to stall, lugging huge bundles on their backs, wrapped in the bright coloured local textiles.  In the upper city, stuck in traffic, we studied the statue of the hero Che Guevara (you remember the guy from your t-shirt Martin...!!) symbolically trampling on a U.S. eagle, constructed from nuts and bolts and pieces of scrap metal, and then caught glimpses of the clutter of buildings clinging to the rock walls, stretching way down into the valley below.

Building-sized referendum ad

Guards outside presidencial palace

It has been a very lazy 3 days, which was just what the doctor ordered, after our busy month.  After retreating from the mayhem on the streets on our first night, we were amazed at the silence and stillness the following morning when we ventured out... traffic bans are just great!  Wandering down past the lovely church of San Fransisco, we walked up onto the pedestrian bridge crossing one of the cityīs main thoroughfares which, today, was an empty road in both directions... it was almost spooky.  We made our way over to Plaza Murillo where there was

Plaza Murillo in the sun

Street to our hotel

a little more life, with guards in historical costumes fronting the Presidencial Palace, and media people setting up cables for transmission from inside Government House, alongside a few locals sitting on benches reading papers while their kids chased the pigeons.  I had had a lengthy conversation with Javier, our previous days bus driver, trying to learn more about the proposed constitutional changes but the charming Javier, eager to enlighten me, appeared to be in training for an Olympic speed-speaking event while my comprehension is still working at school sports day speeds... so we werenīt totally in the picture.  It seemed as though the current president, whom we saw smiling down shiftily from huge billboards, was going to come out well, though.  I think he probably wears Che Guevara t-shirts, too, Martin...!  The next time we saw Plaza Murrillo, it was thronged with flag-waving supporters in the rain, greeting a victorious Morales aftter the votes had been counted, that evening... but that was on tv in our room... well it was raining, I wasnīt going to join them!

Sunday street shopping... choosing dvd

Hanging onto mum´s skirt

I had hope that the aggro seen on the streets in La Paz in the past week, as people publicised their political allegiances in demonstrations and riots, would be visible today, thinking it would be quite exciting.  Havenīt seen  riot since I was in Nepal before Tibet, and thatīs three whole years ago!  But there was nothing doing, Iīm afraid.  When the people finally materialised on the streets it was to queue patiently outside the polling

Reading the news on the cathedral steps

Standing chatting on cathedral steps

station, manned by an excess of police, or to indulge in the Sunday past time of promenading up the avenues, licking ice-creams or walking their tiny dogs, all dressed in awful jackets and hoodies.  I couldnīt participate in the dog walking but I was quite happy join in on the ice-cream front... would have been rude not to! (Can I use that for desserts as well as beer, Mick?!)  So we sat on a bench in the sun and watched the Bolivian middle classes parade.  It was akin to sitting at a D4 cafe, having spent the day before in Ballymun!

Death cornere... not easy to cross!

Our steet

Tourist junk on street stalls

 
The next day, all was back to normal, the streets were full of stalls selling every imaginable object you could wish for, and a few you really wouldīnt... like the manīs thong in the shape of an elephants head, complete with ambitious-sized trunk... is this what they wear under those ponchos, we wondered!  Most of our browsing was in search of suitable goods for Sue to take home for Blue Ginger, so we made the acquaintance of plenty of traders of textiles, jewellery and the like.  I was delighted, as this gave me a chance to photograph some 

Local trader with whom we did business

Textiles for sale on street

Check the bulge in cheek... coca leaves

 
faces (people are happy to pose if you have bought something!), having been limited to surreptitious back-shots until now, although Sue and I did perfect a system of her posing for the lens while I clicked the people over her shoulder... but 2 days before she left, that was a little late.  We also took time to marvel at the number of riot police deployed along our street and  around the church plaza... they seemed fairly chilled out, standing around in groups leaning on their riot shields and chatting, but we couldnīt work out why they were there .    

Riot police outside cathedral

Street protest

at all.  And then we heard shouting and I got up hopes that maybe there would be a riot, after all!  But the protestors we saw, when we followed the disturbance, were all very well behaved.  Standing in a huge group in the centre of a main road, they looked like gay rights marchers, all waving rainbow flags!  But that wasnīt their agenda, I found, when I asked a local observer, it seems there is an issue with importing cars and the citizens of Bolivia are not happy with it... all very dull stuff, as they marched off, banners aloft... there wasnīt even a scuffle, for Godīs sake!


So, Sue flew home early this morning and Iīm back on my ownio again.  I canīt even feel sorry for her that her Andean oddysey is over, as, after a week back in the wind and weather she is flying off to Timbuctou for 2 weeks.  For those of you who donīt spend weeks of their life looking at a world map, like I do, Timbuctou is in Mali in West Africa.  In the desert.  That means itīs dry.  All the time.  Now you see why Iīm envious...