Part Two: La Paz, Bolivia

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Day Eight

We had to drop Ananda and Nitai at the bus station for their return trip to Puno, en route to Peru. I got to see the early morning view of La Paz as the sun rose. We drove up and up and up the steep streets. It seemed we just kept going up, to the outer poorer suburbs where the bus depot was situated.

Everywhere people were eating breakfast. Street food abounded. Young girls selling empanadas, fried pillows of pastry lined with cheese seemed to be on every street corner.Men huddled around little stoves eating pastellis – fried yeasted puffed doughnut shaped breads that reminded me of Peruvian picarones, and drinking api, a sweet purple coloured hot cereal drink made of maize, lemon and cinnamon, and the mixed purple and yellow api called mezclado. It all looked very appropriate for this icy cold morning.

I was told that no visit to La Paz is complete without a visit to the Mercado de Hechicería, the Witches Market also called Mercado de las Brujas. On sale here are herbs and magic charms for any occasion, as well as those for love, money or health. Dried frogs and llama foetuses, dried armadilos - you name it, it's here. Gosh...nothing for a card-carrying vegetarian. Time to move on.

Drove through the downtown. The main plaza in La Paz is not named Plaza de Armas, as it is in other South American cities, but Plaza Murillo, named for Pedro Domingo Murrillo who led an unsuccessful revolt against the Spanish. The yellow building is El Congreso, the Congress. Adjacent is the Cathedral, built in 1835.

As we shopped today I noticed that towards lunchtime many shops closed. Mathuresh pointed out that this was a common feature of Bolivian life. Most shop owners would open early – at about 8.30am, and close at 12.30. They would then go home and have lunch, and then have a little siesta, opening their shops again from 3.30pm until 7.30. Very civilized, I thought.

Bolivia’s unit of currency is the boliviano. I noticed some tourists were changing US dollars at cambistas (street moneychangers). Apparently their rates were no better or worse than most casas de cambio. There seems to be no black market rate. I was surprised at just how much produce we could actually buy on our tight budget. Vegetables are cheap! I calculated that a few dollars could provide enough vegetables for a week if I was living here. For one or two bolivianos we were paying a porter (more like a human ass!) each day to lug the vegies back to our parked car. Some days the poor boys were carrying immense loads, but they were happy to oblige.

Like everywhere in the region, Bolivians are very keen on greetings and pleasantries. Every encounter and transaction is kicked off with the usual 'buenos dias', but also with 'Como esta?' or 'Que tal?' (How are you?) Bolivian Spanish is also liberally sprinkled with endearing diminutives such as sopita (a little soup) and pesito (little pesos, as in other words ‘it only costs 10 little pesos)

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