Two days in La Paz
I've been in La Paz for the past few days.
Walking a few blocks up a hill here leaves me huffing and puffing.
This is the highest capital city in the world at 3,660 meters (12,008
feet).
I kind of crashed into La Paz after an overnight bus from Cusco to
Puno where I got three hours of sleep, a quick jaunt to Lake Titicaca,
and then another bus from Puno to La Paz. I was so exhausted by the
time I got here that I rented a USD$7 room at Loki Hostal simply
because that was where Lotte had a reservation. That ended up being a
the third night of crappy sleep in a row. The nine other people with
beds in the room snorted coke all night, going to sleep, variously,
between 6am and 9am the next morning.
Loki Cusco, where I spent exactly one night, was a fucking frat house
with almost everyone drunk. Loki La Paz might as well be a flop house
for all the drugs running through it. At least the owners recognize
it. There's a newspaper interview with one of the owners framed on the
wall there, wherein he remarks something like, "The majority of the
backpackers in South America are interested in drugs." Majority. I'd
agree. Maybe even a sweeping one, if you pick a hostal that actively
promotes their party atmosphere as a reason to stay there.
On Saturday, I went to the Coca Museum. It was setup by an
anthropologist working in concert with a historian, psychologist,
sociologist, and lawyer. Something like that. It's a tiny room, but
floor to ceiling with photos and placards. You're given a guide book
in your own language on entry. It took me almost an hour to make it
through the book, following along with the photos. Earliest use of
coca leaves, refinement, addiction, extirmination campaigns,
physiology, how to properly chew the leaves, costs of cocaine
production, etc. Very interesting and well worth the USD$1.20 or so
that it costs to enter. Of interest, one of their citations for
information is Narcotics Anonymous. And the photos in the addiction
section, of people shooting up, were all from NYC.
That afternoon I headed out into Valley of the Moon (Valle del la
Luna) and rented a quad/ATV to tool off around the valley and take
some photos. Driving behind cars and vans on the dirt roads, squinting
hard to keep out the dust, I got positively caked from head to toe. As
I sped up, the wind burned my eyes, making them water. I could feel
the tears carving streaks through the patina, back across my face,
like so many racing stripes.
There were no helmets and no goggles for rent. I opted for a bigger,
more powerful machine and hit a top speed of 91 km/h on a slight
downhill. I'm not sure what that is in miles per hour, but it was
definitely plenty fast to die. Through rivers, past crazy dogs trying
to bite my legs, finding life on a quad to be nothing like a DMX
video. All of that and the photos ended up being shit. Asi es la vida.
On the bus ride back, I spotted some wiry people with dreadlocks in a
park, trying to toss a grip of fabric up over a tall branch. I
immediately recognized what they were up to from seeing Ilana perform
circus arts. I hopped out, chatted with them for a while, took some
photos of them on the fabric. It's funny to randomly run into people
doing circus stuff in La Paz. I gave them the website for Wise Fool,
in New Mexico, and they invited me to a street festival they were
performing at the next day.
Sunday was spent wandering around on foot, bargaining at the so-called
"Witch's Market" where they sell all sorts of interesting things. In
the evening, I took a bus up to El Alto, the high city above La Paz,
and spent a few hours watching lucha libre. Masks, flying drop kicks,
copious shit-talking, the whole bit. It's like WWF in the States
except that none of the wrestlers are very fit, some don't even have
proper costumes, and the audience throws things constantly. Fruit,
bags of trash, water bottles. The wrestlers sometimes throw things
back at the audience, or grab an audience member who's being
particularly audacious and pull their hair.
Chancho fought Santos, El Comando rolled smoke grenades into the ring
before entering. Ninja Boliviano, with "Mortal Kombat!" screaming in
the background, got thrown over the protective barrier next to me,
taking an old lady in the audience to the floor. El Cobarde came over
the fence too and grabbed my water bottle, drinking part of it and
then spitting the rest onto the crowd as I tucked and covered my
camera. Chairs were smashed over heads, people were double-teamed, hit
with signposts and baking trays grabbed from the food vendors.
The highlight of the night, and definitely the crowd favourites, are
the "cholitas catchascanistas." Cholitas are the traditional Andean
women, in bowler hats, with long hair in braids, big skirts and
underskirts, brightly colored blankets tied like backpacks. They're
all the rage in the lucha libre scene here. There's even a midget
cholita. The crowd, well populated by cholitas itself, absolutely
loves them and roars with approval every time they fly through the
air, skirt up, to grab someone by the neck and flip them over. Last
night, the crowd was furious to see Sexy Nightmare, the "marica"
character with a purse and make-up, defeat a cholita favorite, Carmen
Rojas.
It was fantastic and ridiculous. I had read a few articles about it
before going. In the articles, the women involved take feminist
stances, talking about how their presence in what was traditionally a
male-only world helps to open up dialogue, combat machismo, etc.
Fantastic. I'd count this, as ridiculous as it might seem, as one of
the highlights of my time here.
posted by daviduri @ 12:41 PM
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