High-wire antics in La Paz

La Paz is not the capital of Bolivia, but it is the seat of its government. Which is why, in a country infamous for its political instability, it is the focus of attention when the Bolivian people are not happy and wish to express their dissent. Such was the situation awaiting us as we crossed the border from Peru. In fact, separate protests were simultaneously blocking both our intended road to Copacabana (which we ultimately had to miss), and causing chaos in our alternate destination, La Paz. But these protests were unrelated to tourism and, fortunately, we arrived safe and sound and did not catch so much as a whiff of trouble during our stay.

In fact, La Paz turned out to be a delightful place. It is notorious as the "least walkable city in the world", and more than lived up to that reputation thanks to its challenging combination of high-altitude, steep streets, nightmarish traffic, constantly dug up sidewalks, and unexpected obstacles to dodge. And, if it was difficult to navigate by foot, it was even worse by taxi or bus due to the chaos on the roads. So the network of cable cars that soar silently and gracefully over the city are an absolute god send. Plus they afford spectacular views over what is a stunningly beautiful, almost fairy-tale like city - especially when the setting sun hits the surrounding mountain peaks and the lights in the bowl of the city start to twinkle. Magical. On top of this, we got to eat some excellent food, enjoy some of the world's best coffee (of the famed, high altitude geisha variety) and marvel at quirky architecture and bustling markets. We also took in a tour of the witches' markets to learn about the beliefs of the Aymara people, including the still practiced(!) ritual of human sacrifice. The short story there is: don't get drunk in Bolivia in August, especially near a mine, or you'll end up amongst the dozens of missing persons posters at the cable car station.

While it was fortunately September, and we didn't get (that) drunk, we did still manage a couple of near death experiences. The first was a tour to cycle the Death Road. This was a hair-raising, 64km downhill mountain bike adventure on a narrow road that hugs a mountain on one side with a precipitous drop on the other. In its heyday, an average of one Bolivian a day would plummet to their deaths on the road, mostly when a car or bus would slide off the edge (with wreckages still very visible when you peer over!). These days, it is mostly closed to traffic and has only claimed the lives of a few irresponsible tourists over the past decade. Instead, it is a wildly fun, if physically testing, bike ride, and as non-cyclists, we were pretty chuffed to make it down alive and well!

The other, unexpectedly terrifying adventure was meant to be a pleasant afternoon walk through the (admittedly, very ominously named) Valley of the Souls. It did start pleasantly enough, with some stunning views of the bizarre geological formations that characterise the valleys on the outskirts of the city. But I'm not sure if we had upset the witches or failed to burn enough llama foetuses in tribute to the Pachamama, because it was also clear that a wild storm was brewing. Half an hour in, it hit us. Never before have I been right in the eye of a storm like that - lightning striking literally all around us, followed without delay by deafening thunder reverberating through the valley, and walls of hail pelting down on us as we hurriedly tried to find some means of shelter. We could tell the guide was worried when he advised that we turn off our phones (so sadly no photographic evidence), ensured we were wearing rubber-soled shoes, and rushed us through clearings back to the base of the valley and safety. Fortunately our ride was waiting, covered with a blanket of ice, and we were safe - cold, but otherwise unscathed. What an experience!