24-30 May... BBC - Bolivian Belly in the Capital

The view of La Paz from the start of the Cañon de Palca trek - beat that!

Matt says...

Call it what you will - Bombay Bum, Delhi Belly or Montezhuma´s revenge. It doesn´t matter because whatever you call it, we´ve got / had it. Our scheduled start for the Choro Trek has been delayed by at least 24 hours because firstly I, and then poor Lynne, have been sprinting to the loo faster than Ben Johnson on steroids. At fault lies the city of La Paz and it´s incredibly tasty, if somewhat untrustworthy, street food.

Just a five minute walk down El Prado, the city´s main street, tempts you with anything from llama meat and potato kebabs, deep-fried chicken and potato empanadas, potato salteñas, freshly squeezed fruit juices of all kinds and ice-cream of every flavour imaginable. This does not include the myriad of hamburguesa salesmen and women (nicknamed the Hamburgeezers by the two of us) who occupy every street corner.

There is really not much about La Paz that I don´t like. Its jam-packed markets simply ooze atmosphere. The hilly streets off El Prado leave you gasping for breath as you attempt to adjust to the altitude. There are a myriad of excellent points from which to look out over the city´s incredible skyline and the traditional clothing of the Bolivian ladies, all of whom look as though they are carrying their life´s posessions in slings across their backs, adds more colour to what is a vibrant, alive, living, breathing city without an ounce of pretension. It really is a fantastic place through which to wander - surprises lurk around every corner - and I have thoroughly enjoyed our wanderings over the past few days.


Women selling their wares - this scene is played out everywhere in La Paz

Prior to arriving in La Paz, I was absolutely certain that my favourite two capital cities were London and New York. Okay, okay, so New York isn´t the capital of the USA, but it should be, right? La Paz now joins that list and there really is nothing between the three.

Fingers crossed, we shall board the bus to La Cumbre tomorrow (Monday) to begin the Choro Trek with strong stomachs. Adios!

Lynne says...

After deciding on a rough plan for the next few weeks (a few treks and our first time in the Amazon jungle) we decided a beer was in order so we stopped off at a local joint close to our hostel. Loud music blared and the whole place was lit by super-tacky neon and flashing lights. As I sipped my beer a commotion broke out behind me. I cautiously turned round to watch a group of men squaring up to each other, chairs overturned and the obglitory female trying to calm them down. The barman walked past with a tray of drinks and didn´t even bat an eyelid.

I slowly moved my chair further away to avoid a potential battleground yet it was just a lot of hot air, puffed up chests and male bravado - a typical night in La Paz really. Around me, everyone carried on drinking as if nothing had happened.

Minutes later, a man crept up to our table holding out a mobile phone, "Llamada, llamada?" he asked (or something like that, the blaring music made it difficult to hear). Did I need to make a phone call? We shook our heads and I watched as he approached another table where a man took the phone as if he had suddenly realised he had to make an important call at that very moment. Telephone man was quickly replaced by Lime Man and then Paper Tissue Lady. The Bolivians really are an enterprising lot.

On the table next to us sat a group of rowdy teenagers. One of them staggered to his feet to order a round of beers. His lank, greasy hair, black t-shirt with cut off sleeves, tattoo and, to complete the outfit, black fingerless gloves, marked him out as the coolest of the group. It was definitely time to find another drinking hole.