La Paz reminded me slightly of Dehli. The chaos of the traffic, the people and animals weaving in and out through the cars and motorbikes. The fumes, the filth - but then also, the vibrance, the colours, the characters.
Local Bolivian women in their traditional dress of pleated skirt, embroidered shawl and bowler hat carried brightly coloured parcels on their backs, their agility surprising me as they dodged the honking trucks by inches.
There seemed to be no system to the traffic, everyone just drove, which resulted in a melange of vehicles all going in different directions, then suddenly coming to a standstill in the middle of a large roundabout. We landed up in one of these situations and finally after twenty minutes of absolutely nothing happening things started moving and we were off again, even if it was at a snail's pace. Normally a fifteen minute drive from the airport, it took us over an hour to get to the hotel. My room overlooked the busy street below. Oh it's going to be fun trying to sleep tonight, I thought.
On the plane from Chile I realized I left my iPhone charger in the hotel in Santiago, so the first order of business was to locate one in this crazy city. Where to start?
I found a small hole-in-the-wall shop that sold cell phone airtime and in a mix of broken Spanish and Italian I managed to convey what I was looking for. The very helpful shop owner showed me on the map the street where I needed to head towards. So off I went, skipping between cars, dodging the motorbikes and just pretty much going with the flow of mayhem.
It seemed each block had about thirty or more stalls/shops that sold exactly the same things. The first block I passed was all hardware. The second block - ceramic tiles, toilets and basins. The third block - light fixtures. The fourth - stereo equipment....ok, this is moving towards electronics, I must be getting closer. Ah - cellphones! The first stall had nothing. I spied a stall with a young, hip girl manning it and decided to try my luck there. She knew exactly what I was talking about, pulled the charger out, plugged it into my phone to show me it was real and sold it to me for $12. I was a happy traveller once again.
On the way back I bought three juicy mangoes for $1 from a street stall and had them for lunch. Then it was time to get out of the fumes and escape to the airy sunroom on the roof of my hotel..
That evening I met the people I'd be traveling with for the next eleven days. Milton, our guide, two Irish guys and two British girls made up our little group. After introductions and paperwork were done it was time for bed.
The following morning we headed back up to airport in El Alto to catch our 1:30pm flight to Sucre. As is the common occurrence in Bolivia, our plane was delayed for four hours. When we eventually fastened our seat belts, an announcement in Spanish advised us of yet another ten minute delay. I couldn't quite make out the reason for the delay, so I asked my neighbour if he could translate. "The people filling the water for the toilets are still busy." he told me, as though it was nothing out of the ordinary. I sat back with a smile. This is Bolivia...
Finally, the engines revved into action and we started backing out. Now, I know at altitude a plane needs a longer distance to take off, but this was ridiculous! It seemed like we were thundering down the runway for a good minute before the plane finally rattled into the air.
After all of that , the next forty minutes rewarded us with the most spectacular scenery of snow capped mountains, jagged hills with spaghetti roads draped around their edges and giant scallop-shaped rock formations that lined the edge of the mountain range.
As we started our descent, the tops of the mountains got closer and closer until we were literally 200m above them. Then suddenly a sharp bank to one side, a field, some houses, a road, another field and touch down. Welcome to Sucre, Bolivia's capital and most charming city.
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