The highs and lows of travel (AKA four days in La Paz)

7–9 June 2013

We did our best to make our time in La Paz enjoyable, although it was often a struggle, and it was likely the low point in our honeymoon. I’m not sure if that's because it’s such an unpleasant place, or if our energies were running a little low, or both. We spent our few days there quietly wandering around, visiting some touristy sights, eating, drinking and resting.

Despite its superficial ugliness, La Paz does have some interesting and beautiful features. On a day tour, we visited the Valley of the Moon, a vast natural phenomenon where the earth has eroded and left strange formations that look like a moonscape or lots of ant hills bunched together. The guide told us that La Paz was built on the site of an old lake, and when the water disappeared, these formations were left behind.

We also visited a lookout that gives you a good view of most of the city and the huge glacier and snow-capped mountains around it. Very pretty. Apparently the locals can see five different things in the mountain top. Three of the things are a condor (easy to tell), a woman with a baby on her back and an old man (not so easy to see). The guide didn’t tell us what the other two things were, possibly because he and Chris were too busy bonding over their respective football teams, which had the same team colours and Tiger mascot!

The tour ended at a lovely little square, Plaza Murillo, that had pretty little gardens, a big fountain, and hundreds of pigeons who little kids and old men feed by hand. The gardener had left the hose running and the pigeons were having a grand time splashing around in the water and flying through the rainbows in its spray. Next to the square are the Presidential Palace and Legislative Palace – both impressive buildings. Apparently the remains of the fifth president of Bolivia are in one of the palaces, guarded by very fancily dressed men who we watched go through a precisely choreographed changing of the guards, just like the guards outside Buckingham Palace.

The cathedral crypts were closed when we tried to visit them one afternoon, so we just walked around the cathedral itself. Like most old churches, it was quite ornate, with lots of gold and statues of saints, a huge altar, and more paintings of tortured, dead, dying and decapitated people than I care to remember! Seriously, hasn’t Christianity heard that you catch more flies with honey?

At the San Franciscan museum, a lovely lady gave us an English tour, telling us all about the art, architecture, wine making, gardens, robes and crowns. The museum is in the grounds of an old monastery and convent, where monks and nuns still live. We were surprised at how interesting the tour was, and how beautiful the museum was, with its lovely architecture, murals, art and gardens.

I ditched Chris to explore more museums, visiting the free exhibition about coca at the Museum of Art. That was rather interesting… a strange combination of abstract, modern and traditional art and craft all centred around the coca leaf. The main art gallery was a little more to my taste – a combination of historical (religious and Dutch), modern and abstract art. It was nice to have a break from religious paintings, at least in part. The building that housed the art museum was beautiful in itself too – an elegant old mansion with a central courtyard, just off the main commercial road.

Food in La Paz was a good mix of traditional and Western cuisines. We tried a quinoa restaurant atop a building overlooking San Francisco Square, where we had a drink made from quinoa, barley, sugar and cinnamon; a quinoa salad; and toasted sandwiches, enjoying the sunshine and view from the rooftop seating. We also found a lovely little vegetarian restaurant that did set breakfasts (think juices, smoothies, cereals, fruit salad, yoghurt, eggs, bread and jam – too much to eat!) and another popular restaurant called Sol y Luna for dinners (think meze platters, fajitas, felafel, plus good wine, cocktails and fresh juices).

Our evenings in La Paz were pretty quiet. Chris wasn’t feeling great from the altitude and we were both wary of venturing too far alone at night, so after dinner, we’d spent the night in our hotel room watching old movies on telly (romantic features like Lethal Weapon!), eating chocolate and drinking tea.

On the afternoon of 9 June, we were due to fly to Uyuni to visit the salt lakes there. However, to add to our Bolivian discontent, when we got to the airport (after an odd taxi trip in which our driver stopped and picked up random women along the way, as you do), our flight was delayed, then cancelled, due to mechanical issues. Our only option was to catch the next flight at 6.50am, which would get us to Uyuni just in time for our tour at 10am. It’s fair (and polite) to say that Amazonas, the airline, lacks any kind of quality customer service and their staff are not familiar with the concept of communication. After two hours of ‘discussions’ with them, we’d arranged overnight accommodation in a five-star hotel in La Paz, return airport transfers and a place on the morning flight. We could only cross our fingers and hope that it didn’t break down too.

The hotel, Hotel Presidente, was quite nice. Not five-star by Western standards, unless you time travelled back to 1960, but it was clean, big and a little bit fancy. And the service was impeccable. It was a huge improvement on our La Paz accommodation to date. Our room was huge, with two double beds, a flat-screen TV, two arm chairs, a table, a suit and shoe holder (?!), a big bathroom with a bath, views of the city, and gold-plated and brass highlights galore. We immediately decided to upgrade to this plush pad from the less enticing Las Brisvas and its grumpy, gropey staff, where we were booked to stay for one night between Sucre and the Iguassu falls.

With another afternoon to kill in La Paz, we went shopping in the market. Chris was particularly happy with his purchase of a tacky, nylon jacket in the Richmond football team colours, tiger logo and all (I'm not saying it's boganesque at all). Then we decided to make the most of our hotel – going for a swim in its (slightly run down) pool and eating dinner in its restaurant with 360 views of the city – all lit up and deceptively beautiful – while the waiters played the Beatles’ over the PA. There was even a song on the album that Chris hadn’t heard!

The food there was hit and miss – sticky cold pasta and sauce, but nice salads and delicious cocktails (I figure a chocolate martini counts as dessert). I rounded my night off with a Chivas in my big, comfortable double-bed (honeymoon, schmoneymoon – we had a plush bed each!) while I wrote and my husband, remotely happy for the first time in days, watched basketball and drank bourbon. What had become a rather trying day, after a several days in a so-so city, had ended quite nicely.

Hot tip: when things go bad, a nice hotel can make you feel better!

The road to La Paz

6 June 2013

Today was overcast, grey and rainy, with a touch of hail that was so light it was almost snow. It was the perfect day for a quiet road trip. The double-decker bus from Puno to La Paz followed a main road along the lake’s shoreline. We passed field after field of sheep, cows, vegetables and fruit, and small villages consisting of little shack-like houses similar to those we’d stayed in on the island. The houses were made with concrete or metal walls, and had reed, matting or metal for the roof. Their metal front doors were painted to look like they had little insets and carvings, with pretty little decorative swirls and flowers.

In the lake, fishermen had set up rows of big black nets and moored their dinghies and motor boats at wooden posts hiding among the tall reeds. Where the water had flooded onto the land near the road, birds were happily washing and flicking water about.

The bus itself was pretty chilly, and most of our tour crew was coughing, full of colds that Chris had probably given them! We made it through the Peru–Bolivia border crossing fine (my unmarried status – and that of one of the other girls – didn’t go unnoticed by the customs man) and we settled into our slightly crappy, disorganised hotel, Las Brisas. While most of the staff did their utmost to be rude to the hotel guests, the security guard was very friendly to me in the lift. A little too friendly, you could say. So, after checking with Dennis (our tour leader) that it wasn't some odd Bolivan custom to try to kiss random strangers on the lips, I dobbed on the guard and we didn't see him again.

Dennis took us on a little walking tour of La Paz. And I have to say, first impressions weren’t great (nor were any later impressions, to be honest).

La Paz is a little like Quito, in that it’s a huge city in a valley, spreading up and across the big hills around it, as far as you can see. And that’s where the similarity ends. Bolivia is clearly a lot poorer than Peru, and with that comes a certain seediness and sense of desperation, and overall shabbiness.

Beggars ask for money (and get cranky if you refuse). One beggar babbled incoherently at Chris, bowed to him, then walked away. As you do. The streets are very dusty, dingy, grotty and run down, with rubbish and graffiti everywhere, and cracked and holey roads and footpaths. Everything is ‘in construction’, with concrete, metal, bricks and wires lining the street.

The city is rather chaotic, with cars going wherever their drivers choose without indication or attention to the road rules (if there are any). Like in many third-world Asian cities, it comes down to whichever driver is the most persistent or stubborn. People drive fast and slam on their brakes at the last minute, and push in front of each other, hoping the other person will give way. The only saving grace is that there don't seem to be quite as many cars, buses, motorbikes or bicycles as there are in Asia (but it comes pretty close).

On the way into the city, we saw an effigy of a man tied up high on a pole, like they used to do in medieval times. I’m not sure what it was about, but it left us feeling rather uneasy! Actually, the whole place has a bad vibe and we were a little more alert and aware walking around there than we were in Peru.

On our walking tour, we stopped by the witches’ market, which I'd been really looking forward to. Sadly, it was a little disappointing – more a row of several shops with a bizarre (and not entirely Wiccan-related) mix of paraphernalia, including dried llama foetuses, baby llamas and other dead animals; various herbs and plant matter; novelty sex-related items (like ashtrays that look like bums or boobs); tinctures; oils; lots of religious icons and talisman; and random snacks, cigarettes and magazines. It was all rather gruesome and peculiar. The market is also rather pungent, I presume thanks to the formaldehyde used to preserve the dead animals.

We made our way through the streets – directed where to cross the road by some men dressed as zebras (still haven’t worked that one out, although I do get the zebra crossing pun!) – to San Franscisco Square, outside the big cathedral, so we could get our bearings. Then Dennis took us back to the hotel so we could relax before our last tour group dinner at a Thai-Indian-Malay fusion restaurant.

The restaurant and meal were quite nice, and we enjoyed sampling the cocktails and Jaegermeister (for medicinal purposes, of course). And while it’s always sad for chapters in your journey to end, Chris and I were also looking forward to having a bit more freedom to do as we wanted, when we wanted, and having some quiet time to ourselves.