Travel blog: Frenetic La Paz

Rhian Nicholson has swapped the bright lights of London for a three month journey across South America from the Pacific to the Atlantic coast. Here is her 11th blog entry:

Life in the Bolivian capital of La Paz is as crazy as a mad hatter on the run from a high security psychiatric unit.

You could feasibly blame it on the altitude - La Paz is after all the world's highest capital
city at a mere 3,660 metres.

Or it could be the disorientating maze of narrow congested streets where the pavements are lined with people flogging anything they can lay their hands on, while everyone else is
forced to pick their way through the solid stream of oncoming traffic - much to the annoyance of the hoards of short-tempered drivers.

Or perhaps it's the fact that prices are criminally low driving even the stingiest of penny-pinchers to excess in the shopping, eating and drinking stakes.

It's all too easy to get caught up in La Paz's rowdy, ramshackle street life.

From the ski mask clad shoeshine boys vying for business in the blazing winter sun, to the crowds munching home made ice cream in front of the bullet-ridden presidential palace in the Plaza Pedro D Murillo (ahhh these South American coups) and the gringos swarming around the colourful market stalls groaning under the weight of random goods and the shops bursting at the seams with handwoven goods, the centre is a veritable hive of frenetic activity.

With all this at ground level, La Paz's spectacular setting often fades into the background - and wrongly so.

Thousands upon thousands of small houses cling to the sides of the steep earthy valley like velcro bugs, providing a kaleidoscope of colour in the sunlight.

And above them the towering Mount Illimani bears silent witness to the amount of money switching hands (or mysteriously disappearing from pockets) on the street below.

Indeed, whether perusing the silver jewellery, buying fake banknotes with real money or stocking up on largely above-board electronic goods in the black market, the constant outflow of cash from your wallet should spell trouble for your bank account.

But that scarf that cost three quid in Peru is now just £1.50 - and that's without the bartering which in some cases seems pointless as the difference works out to be 10p.

Well that seems like a pittance to Westerners anyway - for the many old wretched Bolivians begging on the streets, a few coins brings a wide toothless smile to their wrinkled leathery faces.

And for the nimble-fingered younger ones ready and willing to leg it through the
maze of cobbled narrow streets, any bag, camera or wallet is a tempting target: impoverished locals and 'rich' tourists on a shopping spree are a dangerous combination.

For souvenirs you wouldn't necessarily want to take home - and even if you did the customs officials might have something to say about it - it's all about the witches market where pickled llama foetuses hang like bunches of bananas on the stalls.

Apparently the locals bury them under newly built houses to bring them good luck and fortune...

If you're partial to all things magical - or just plain desperate for a cure for baldness - the lotions and potions they sell might come in handy - although trying to figure out what exactly each one is supposed to do requires some sort of miracle.

Much more effective were the jugs of fruit juice knocked up on the street by the jolly fat women with enough Vitamin C at their disposal to eradicate scurvy forever.

For a mere 5 bolivianos (30p) you can name your chosen antidote to the rather vicious hangovers caused by sampling the sugary lighter fluid that is Bolivian wine.

Two minutes and one whirring blender later your jug of juice magically appears with the odd pip floating round just to prove its authenticity.

Innocent smoothies move over: the orange, a kiwi and starfruit concoction is the best way I have yet discovered in South America to give your body a much needed boost -
and help you dodge the pickpockets.

If you need something stronger than an afternoon pick-me-up the Coca museum offers coca tea or liqueur and cake and explains why so many Bolivians walk round looking like chipmunks from the huge wads of coca leaves permanently wedged in the corners of their mouths.

And if the 'don't do drugs kids' message needs reinforcing, the delightful wax models of the pallid looking coke addicts are almost worthy of a place in Madame Tussauds.

For the ultimate fix (of the adrenaline kind that is), it's all about taking your life into your own hands on the world's deadliest road – a downhill ride on a mountain bike along narrow twisting road with sheer 6,000 metre drops and traffic heading straight for you.

At least you get a T-shirt if you survive.

If La Paz is crazy during the day then it manages to step things up a notch at night with a stream of unbelievably cheap alcohol helping to fuel the madness.

Unfortunately when the generous cocktails barely make a scratch in your wallet, the hours have a nasty habit of slipping by until you find yourself ordering yet another mojito at 4am to produce a hangover that nothing less than decapitation will cure the next day.

Mix altitude and cheap rum at your peril…

Rhian Nicholson