Well, I've survived Death Road, which rightfully deserves its name: on the descent we saw a lorry being hauled out of a ravine (the circling vultures adding a bit of atmosphere) and many wrecks littering the forest below the road. The road itself serpentines its way from the high Andes, at 4700m, all the way down to the rainforest at 1200m. The start is deceptively easy as it's paved, however soon it becomes a lethal dirt road clinging to the edge of very sheer mountainsides, with about 10m of guardrail for every kilometer, more as an afterthought than for any safety reasons. What's more, since this is the only road that connects La Paz to the jungle there is a fair amount of traffic in both directions. The descent itself was far from being fun the road gave a new definition to the term bone-jarring (my upper arms were still vibrating half an hour after finishing the descent), and the rainforest was also true to its name, with a horrible two-hour downpour turning the track into a mud river, with the odd temporary waterfall soaking us to the bone. Nevertheless we arrived at the bottom safe and sound, though not a little dusty and and with excruciating hand cramps from holding on for dear life to the vibrating handlebars and pressing the brakes for all we were worth; and were rewarded with a much appreciated shower and lunch. Then came the really dangerous part: the drive back along the Death Road. You see the vast majority of cyclists make it down alright, the vast majority of casualties come from vehicles falling off the road. When we finally got back to our hostel in La Paz there was a great feeling of elation and achievement, as well as many oaths of never repeating the feat again!
The rest of the time has been spent in La Paz, just exploring and chillin'. The night before braving the Death Road we all went out to say farewell to those of us who are leaving the tour in La Paz (including our fantastic tour leader Oscar who must be glad to get away from my incessant Spanish vocabulary questions). It was therefore an opportune time to hand out various dubious prizes. Funnily enough I got quite a few, namely for eating anything and everything and generally being a communal waste-disposal unit (I'm sure my Mum would be surprised at that as she never wastes an opportunity to remark that I never eat enough), and also one for excessive swearing (which surprised me a lot, although it probably wouldn't surprise any of my ex-pupils!).
Other highlights here in La Paz include the coca museum and the Moon Valley. The former gives a good insight into the history of coca use among the indigenous population and also the West's hypocritical stance towards it (as well as showing you how to make cocaine from raw coca leaves!). The Moon Valley is a small patch of badlands (apparently that's the technical term for the type of rock and sedimentary formations) very close to the city. The terrain is just out of this world, with large clay pinnacles that look like huge stalagmites or termite mounds just sprouting out of the ground. Although the area is quite small it is remarkably breathtaking.
Other general oddities that I have noticed in La Paz include the following:
-a large number of men walking around with balaclavas. At first you might be excused for thinking that La Paz is the terrorist capital of the world, until you realise that they are shoe-shine boys and wear the balaclavas so that they are not stigmatised by such a demeaning job.
-people wearing fluorescent green vests. They perplexed me to begin with until we asked them what they were, and it turns out they are walking telephone booths, which I found highly amusing.
-many old(er) ladies in traditional dress, the most arresting feature being a sort of bowler hat several sizes too small. I'm continuously amazed at how they manage to keep them on.
-the local buses, or micros. Usually they are small vans (Japanese car makers seem to have cornered the market) that can pack a deceptively large number of people on them, and each one contains a "wingman" who perpetually shouts various destinations as the van drives past. Personally I love these buses, because not only do they have several points of their route variously displayed on their windshields, but if you're not quite sure if it's the right bus you just ask the wingman if the bus goes where you're headed and he'll usually help you out.
The rest of the time has been spent in La Paz, just exploring and chillin'. The night before braving the Death Road we all went out to say farewell to those of us who are leaving the tour in La Paz (including our fantastic tour leader Oscar who must be glad to get away from my incessant Spanish vocabulary questions). It was therefore an opportune time to hand out various dubious prizes. Funnily enough I got quite a few, namely for eating anything and everything and generally being a communal waste-disposal unit (I'm sure my Mum would be surprised at that as she never wastes an opportunity to remark that I never eat enough), and also one for excessive swearing (which surprised me a lot, although it probably wouldn't surprise any of my ex-pupils!).
Other highlights here in La Paz include the coca museum and the Moon Valley. The former gives a good insight into the history of coca use among the indigenous population and also the West's hypocritical stance towards it (as well as showing you how to make cocaine from raw coca leaves!). The Moon Valley is a small patch of badlands (apparently that's the technical term for the type of rock and sedimentary formations) very close to the city. The terrain is just out of this world, with large clay pinnacles that look like huge stalagmites or termite mounds just sprouting out of the ground. Although the area is quite small it is remarkably breathtaking.
Other general oddities that I have noticed in La Paz include the following:
-a large number of men walking around with balaclavas. At first you might be excused for thinking that La Paz is the terrorist capital of the world, until you realise that they are shoe-shine boys and wear the balaclavas so that they are not stigmatised by such a demeaning job.
-people wearing fluorescent green vests. They perplexed me to begin with until we asked them what they were, and it turns out they are walking telephone booths, which I found highly amusing.
-many old(er) ladies in traditional dress, the most arresting feature being a sort of bowler hat several sizes too small. I'm continuously amazed at how they manage to keep them on.
-the local buses, or micros. Usually they are small vans (Japanese car makers seem to have cornered the market) that can pack a deceptively large number of people on them, and each one contains a "wingman" who perpetually shouts various destinations as the van drives past. Personally I love these buses, because not only do they have several points of their route variously displayed on their windshields, but if you're not quite sure if it's the right bus you just ask the wingman if the bus goes where you're headed and he'll usually help you out.
No comments:
Post a Comment