We caught a morning bus from Copacabana to La Paz. The bus wasn´t full so he kept stopping for people on the side of the road. There would be a chorus of "hurry up!", "let´s go!", and "Come on!" from every corner of the bus. It was kind of whiny. About an hour in the bus suddenly stopped, and everyone got off and disappeared. As usual, we were clueless. Then I remembered that there was a ferry crossing. We bought tickets and missed the first boat that went across. We got in the next one, sat, and watch our bus drive onto a ferry and chug across. We weren´t going anywhere. The boat driver wouldn´t go until there were a certain number of people or it wasn´t worth it to him. The bus was ready and pointing towards the road. People began to complain that they were going to miss the bus. They complained a lot. The guy made a move to leave but then waited for more people. Everyone was shouting now. Finally he decided that there were enough passengers and pushed off. But he couldn´t get the engine started. It took him about fifteen pulls before it sputtered to life. We jumped on the bus as it started to pull away.
Once in La Paz we we walked into the center with an American from the bus. We walked through the black market (it's legit). Everything was for sale. Life is lived on the streets here. We got a four-bed dorm at El Solario near the center.
After getting settled, we walked down to see about mountain biking down the death road. More on that later. We also stopped to get fairly large empanadas at a street stall for about 40 cents. It was a special empanada, with meat, egg, and vegetables in fried dough. It was pretty good. A little farther on we stopped at a lookout with a very talkative and friendly tourist information lady. She told me everything I ever wanted to know about La Paz. The lookout was a playground for kids (and Erin). It had great views over the city, which drapes over the valley in a spectacular way, as well as snow-capped Mount Illumani. A band was filming a music video and kicked the kids off the playground to make way for the scantily clad ladies.
We wandered past the witches market, which featured dried llama fetuses buried under new homes. Back in the Mercado Negro we bought eggs, rolls, a green pepper and onion, cucumbers and tomatoes, and a big pineapple. It came to less than two dollars. We had a feast of Denver sandwiches and enough left over for breakfast.
We also checked out the Coca Museum, which was hard to find but very interesting. The displays were in Spanish but an English binder was available. It told us everything we ever wanted to know about the coca leaf and cocaine. The legend goes like this:
I shall give you a gift for your brothers, climb up to that mountain where you shall find a small plant, one with much strength. Guard your leaves with love and when you feel pain in your heart or obscurity in your mind, bring the leaves to your mouth and softly draw up its spirit, which is part of mine. You will find love for your pain, food for your body, and light for your mind.
This is for us:
When the white conqueror touches the leaf, all he found was venom for his body and madness for his mind, and when he tried to appease his heart, it only served to break it, like ice crystals break mountains.
Apparently the Spanish condemned the coca leaf as coming from the devil until they learned it increased productivity among the workers in the mines. So they made it accepted and even mandatory. I want to try the old version of Coca Cola. Sounds good.
Tomorrow we take on the most dangerous road in the world. Fun huh?
Travis
More thumbnails ...
19 votes 
