As for prayer this week, give thanks for the refreshing time we had while away and pray for energy and renewed vision as we adjust back to the working day here in Trinidad.
Saturday, 11th of September
• Arrive in La Paz around 2:30pm. Stepping off the plane is like walking into a fridge with the light left on. Wonderful.
• After a short hunt, locate our base for the majority of the week: Hotel Fuentes on Calle Linares, a street in the heart of the touristy (and hilly!) San Francisco district of town. The woman at the hotel tells us a room with a double bed is available for only one evening. I explain that she’d told me otherwise on the phone. Sure enough, we get the room for three nights. I’m reminded that we may be in a very different city, but we’re still in Bolivia.
• We take a micro [La Paz’s main form of transport, mini-vans which struggle up and down the hills] to Wagamama – not that one, but an independent Japanese restaurant in town. It’s our first taste of Eastern cuisine since arriving in Bolivia and well worth the wait – subtle flavours I’d forgotten even existed take an extremely powerful hold.
The street just outside our hotel. Chocos abound.
Sunday, 12th of September
• A patchy night’s sleep, to be expected as part of the adjustment to high altitude.
• At breakfast in the hotel, I take my first cup of coca leaf tea this holiday, and Amanda her first ever. It’s a tad bitter, but a tried and tested guard against altitude sickness, though of course, it has been known to have other uses.
• A marathon of a service at El Jireh church in the city [home to Pastor Juan Antonio Maldonado, old friend of FT and the church’s namesake here in Trinidad]. The Lord’s Supper takes up the first 90 minutes, though with a markedly different feel to what I’m used to. Worship songs are repeated over and over, with a very lively, quasi-Hebrew feel to things. Later, I’m invited to address the church on behalf of the church in Trinidad. As in Trinidad, the children come up to the front to sing before heading to their Sunday school, only here they also fight for the microphone to recite huge chunks of Scripture – as in, full Psalms/chapters. It is truly inspiring stuff. We leave at around 12:45pm, some four hours after arriving.
• After fevered anticipation, we head straight to ‘Burger King’ on the Prado. But it takes only a few bites for the excitement to dissipate as we contemplate the poor quality grub at non-Third World-adjusted prices.
• After a post-lunch siesta, we take a micro down the hill [up is the only other direction in La Paz] to catch the 5pm showing of ‘Inception’ at a recently-opened multiplex. We’d heard snatches of information about it beforehand but nothing could have prepared us for the reality (or is it?!). Mesmerising, the best film we’ve seen in a very long time.
Monday, 13th of September
• This morning we aim to get our sole FT-related business out of the way and we make tracks for the Bible Societies shop round the corner from our hotel. There, we spend the morning picking out tracts for FT and the church, with the bargain prices (around 10p per tract) meaning we only just make it out before lunchtime closing.
• My watch stopped working a few months ago and had been planning on getting a new one here for some time, so we wander down the Prado to a watch shop recommended by the hotel manager. Inevitably, genuine models are thin on the ground (‘Rolexes’ come at missionary-friendly prices), though at least here, the woman has the decency to declare her forgeries (not usually the case back in Trinidad). I pick up a nice Casio (never let me down) which comes with a guarantee. When I ask for the guarantee, I’m told it’s etched into the reverse of the watchface. Sense any further effort may be in vain.
• We get a taxi to a street market (again recommended by our hotel manager, whose Super Mario-like appearance betrays a genuine affability and desire to please). Amanda picks up a set of kitchen scales and a vegetable steamer – like decent watches, these are, again, impossible to find in Trinidad. [trust readers are getting a sense of just how exciting the ‘little things’ have become to us over the last year]
• Pop into a restaurant next door to the hotel. It’s quiet, but serves a good, traditional set menu, which results in my first llama steak of the holiday.
• Super-sized jugos (fruity, South American milkshakes) nearly cause us to keel over, so we take another much-needed stroll down the Prado, browsing the various fake DVD stands and shoe shops. On way back to hotel, we nip into ‘Oliver’s Travels’, La Paz’s token British bar, though I’m the only British customer. Nonetheless, we enjoy the closing games of the US Open final while bantering with staff (both Brits) about all things La Paz.
Tuesday, 14th of September
• Both showered and changed by 7:15am. We check out and catch a micro heading to the cemetery, where buses leave for Copacabana.
• The four-hour bus journey is as spectacular as usual, though desperation to urinate [my bladder shrunk considerably at high altitude] dampens the excitement somewhat. With hindsight, a gigantic lake perhaps not the most comforting scenery.
• We arrive in Copacabana at the back of noon [there was a toilet stop an hour earlier, thankfully]. A bit of a hike to our hotel but we are duly rewarded for our effort. A specatacular lake view is afforded from the gardens. We swing in the hammocks for a while before lunch.
• We toddle up and down the streets [funny how high altitude is never flat] of Copacabana, reminded of just what a far-out place it can be. Hippy-inclined chocos abound.
• Amanda suggests we rent a pedalos. We mess around in the boat for half an hour and I get some good pictures of reed boats [Titicaca’s signature vessel] in the process. We spend the remainder of the afternoon sourcing ice cream and visiting Copacabana’s striking cathedral.
• Amanda takes pictures of Copacabana’s ‘Museum of the Poncho’ for the benefit of her sister, Jessica (who hates ponchos).
• As ever, I’m up for a climb, with Cerro Calvario [one of the twin hills which book-end the town] positively calling my name. Amanda suggests we wait until sunset and it proves a stellar call. The walk up the hill is, once again, breathtaking, if only in a medical sense. But the end justifies the means, with the best view I can remember in a long time. I get a fair few sunset shots.
The two of us on Isla del Sol.
Wednesday, 15th of September
• Get down to beach in time to catch our boat to Isla del Sol. We manage to get seats on the upper deck and, naturally, I take a sackload of pictures.
• We arrive at northern port of the island, Challapampa. With time fairly short, we’re keen to set off alone but we’ve been ambushed by a local tour guide who won’t let us buy tickets for the island’s Inca sites until we’ve listened to him describe his (pricey) tour to us.
• We manage to sneak away and, while walking, meet a couple of French-Canadian chaps, one of whom expresses an interest in coming to Trinidad to volunteer at FT. We stop at the island’s main Inca site before walking another 15 minutes to the summit of the hill at the north-west point of the island. There are stunning views all around – well worth the effort.
• Next stop on the boat is Yumani and the island’s Inca Stairwell. We rest here for 30 minutes and are reunited with our Québécoises friends.
• At 3.30pm, we start heading home, stopping off at the final ruin on the island on the way, where I take a photo of a llama and am then promptly charged one Boliviano for the privilege – after our tour guide experience and now this, I find it sad that such a striking wilderness is increasingly bearing the hallmarks of a tourist trap.
• On the boat back to Copacabana, we chat with a young couple from London who have been travelling in South America since January. Midway through a footballing conversation, the guy’s backpack slides off the top of the boat and into the water! Our driver turns back and we manage to salvage it. The contents dry quickly in the high-altitude sun. Mercifully, no important documents were contained therein.
Thursday, 16th of September
• This is the travel log entry that very nearly didn’t happen, as sure enough, my traditional disaster-moment of the holiday reared its ugly head.
• We’d showered and packed and while Amanda was getting ready, I stepped outside into the hotel garden to drink in Lake Titicaca one last time.
• After breakfast in the hotel we headed, with bags, to Copacabana’s main bus stop. We locate a reasonably comfortable micro due to leave at 9am. We pay and board.
• Amanda makes a reference to last night and my thoughts turn to my travel log entry. I suddenly realise the notebook is still in the hotel, with only five minutes until our departure. Amanda suggests we try to get a refund and take a 10am bus. Inevitably, and despite the crowds looking to travel to La Paz that day, the driver isn’t interested [the customer is never right in Bolivia].
• The driver, therefore, gives me five minutes to get to the hotel and back. The hotel’s a mere five minute stroll from the plaza, so it should technically not be a problem. I sprint and get there within two minutes, but the altitude takes its toll. I somehow get back to the bus on time but am severely winded for the best part of an hour!
• When we get back to our La Paz base, everything is in order and our suitcase is ready to be claimed from safe storage. We’re a floor higher this time (such insignificant details take on a whole new meaning at this altitude).
• We walk to bookshop ‘Los Amigos del Libro’, which, according to our guidebook, stocks the biggest range of English-language texts in the city. That ‘range’, it turns out, consists of two dusty old boxes of self-help manuals. I figure the Atkins diet can wait a few years yet.
• We catch a trufi [a regular-sized car, like a taxi, but picking up multiple passengers] to take us (and four others!) to La Paz’s much-heralded ‘Megacenter’ shopping mall. Our hope is to spend some of Amanda’s birthday money before catching a film later. Alas, the prices are stratospheric, the whole experience only serves to remind us that Bolivia has no middle-class.
• Our film, ‘Salt’ is utter nonsense, yet engagingly twisty throughout, complete with a sequel-ready climax.
• We get back to San Francisco and scale the hill back to our hotel. The climb has definitely gotten a lot easier since leaving Copacabana.
Friday, 17th of September
• The plan had been to go to Tiwanaku today [a major Inca site just outside La Paz] but as soon as we got back from Copacabana yesterday, the thought of sitting on a minibus for another couple of hours completely lost its appeal. Therefore, with added urgency after last night’s ‘Megacenter’ disappointment, today was designated ‘shopping day’. Amanda duly obliges.
• We head to Mercado Buenos Aires, which covers 30 square blocks and appears to have no end. Need I say, it goes up a big hill?
• We dump the morning’s spoils in the hotel room and then proceed to ‘Oliver’s Travels’ for lunch, where I become the first customer ever to purchase Irn-Bru!
A view over Valle de la Luna looking towards 'The Devil's Molar'.
Saturday, 18th of September.
• A typical last day of the holiday. That strange mixture of longing for things not to end countered by the sense of impending closure. Nonetheless, we make the most of it.
• After breakfast, we return to the cemetery to catch a micro heading in the direction of Copacabana – on Tuesday, I’d noticed the photographic potential of the view as we ascended La Paz’s canyon, with some stunning views of the city with the snow-drenched peak of Illimani in the background. Unfortunately, the view today is severely obscured due to mist. We take some pictures nevertheless. It’s more than a little unnerving being so high, mind you.
• Finally we land our sole English-language book of the trip, Amanda finding a 1956 [the year my Dad was born – talk about old!] edition of Daphne du Maurier’s ‘The Scapegoat’ in the market for 15 Bolivianos [should explain here that Bolivianos is the currency – we’re not in the business of slave-trading].
• After lunch (over Sunderland v Arsenal in the ‘teatime kickoff’) we make tracks for Valle de la Luna, a journey which takes 50 minutes or so on a big, hulking, snail-like bus (formerly used to transport schoolchildren in Virginia, it appears). But we’re well rewarded when we get there – a truly spectacular sight. We take endless photos, the late-afternoon Light adding to the beauty. From viewpoints over the craters, I can’t help but notice a sliver of green in the distance: La Paz golf club, the world’s highest, so they say.
• We dither over going to see the golf club for ourselves (rumours are it’s ultra-exclusive) but in true last-day-of-holiday spirit, we reckon, “why not?” and find a taxi driver who can at least take us to the gate.
• We manage not only that, but receive a guided tour of the clubhouse from a helpful young woman. I manage to sneak a few shots of the 1st/18th. Looks a great course in a spectacular backdrop. I make a casual inquiry re. membership, expecting to be rebuffed. A lifetime membership will cost you $4000, steep here but a bargain compared to many inferior courses back home. We take a bus back to the city to enjoy our last La Paz meal and pack our bags for our Sunday morning flight home.
¡Que Dios les bendiga!
Craig & Amanda
