La Paz definitely follows the civil planning rhythm that you find in other Bolivian highland cities like Potosi and Sucre: it’s high (12k feet) and it densely carpets a valley, from floor to high surrounding hills.
By appearance, La Paz, whose actual name is “Nuestra Señora de La Paz” (Our Lady of the Peace), is the magnificent grand-daddy of Bolivian-hill-valley-high cities. It surrounds you in every direction, clinging to every rise and sink, blanketing the earth with a thick coat of terra cotta and corrugated steel. Despite the humbling immensity of the place, it’s not the most populous city in Bolivia — it’s 3rd, but I think it’s kind of a technicality, because the 2nd most populous city, El Alto, is basically a suburb of La Paz that got all big in the pants. (The most populous city is Santa Cruz, which we could not visit).
La Paz, despite being the most famous city in Bolivia, is not exactly the Capital. Sucre was (and is) the capital, but the official seat of the government moved to La Paz after an economic decline. Today, both cities share responsibilities: La Paz is the official seat of government, and host of the executive branch, while Sucre is “the capital” of Bolivia and the home of the Bolivian Supreme Court.
But enough facts and history! La Paz is rad because La Paz is rad! Colorful, noisy, chaotic, unnerving at times, and certainly not the kind of place you wander in the night. Like most cities in South America, the streets are lined with multitudes of similar options — shops, kiosks and umbrella covered carts selling the same line of gums and candies, bottled drinks and cell phone chips. But now, since we are in Bolivia, we are also seeing tons of puffed grain snacks, countless llama and alpaca sweaters and more, generally being sold by Cholitas.
Cholitas are kind of complicated to get into fully, and my abbreviated description is sure to deliver a disservice, but here goes! One recognizes a Cholita by the following: thickly layered skirt, hair in two braids tied together in the back under a tall bowler hat, and an elaborate shawl over the shoulders. More often than not, they are shouldering a huge parcel in a colorful sheet of fabric twisted up into a basic backpack. Quite often there’s a baby in it. This dress code began back “in the old days” when the Spanish forced the indigenous population to a adopt European style of dress — well, they decided to do it on their own terms. I suppose tradition compels it to continue, as women of all ages continue to do so today. There was a time, not so long ago, when cholitas were turned away at restaurants and buses, and disallowed to walk in certain affluent neighborhoods and public parks. Nowadays, cholitas occupy every strata of society, hold public office and do whatever the hell they want. And what could be more rad?
The first thing we did when arriving in La Paz was sign up to watch “cholita wrestling”, so clearly one of those strata that the cholitas occupy is wrestling. As silly as it was, it made a good night out. And besides, those ladies were surprisingly athletic and acrobatic beneath all those petticoats.
Of course, our high opinion of La Paz was formed heavily by La Fiesta Del Gran Poder, and that’s a story that’s been stated in its own post. Besides the grand festival there are, of course, we visited the requisite museums, like the Museo de Instrumentos Musicales and the Museo de Artes Contemporarío, which was housed in a gorgeous old building. Of course, there’s the Witches Market (more mummified llamas), and the countless shops intermixed, one of which supplied me with a gorgeous new charango… A Bolivian instrument, kind of like a mandolin ukelele.
Plaza Murillo is a splendid plaza flanked at all sides by gorgeous old buildings and a surprisingly vast cathedral. The real draw here, however, are the pigeons. Thousands and thousands of them. And for pocket change, we bought some feed, and soon enough swarms of these birds and their warm feet were crawling all over us both. And then there was the pissy old man who emphatically told us the pigeons are diseased, and “like rats”, that we needed to go home and wash the filth off us. Grumpy old jerk.
* For the record, we looked it up — the idea that pigeons carry disease is overstated. All animals carry disease, and there’s not much mechanism for transmission with feral pigeons.
La Paz has become famous for the recent installation of the worlds largest (and highest) cable car system, spanning out over 6 miles across 3 different lines. For less than 50 cents each, we took the red line, a 10 minute ride that scoops low over the expansive residential buildings of La Paz. It’s surreal — generally when you’re on a gondola like this, you’re out skiing and looking over snowy hills. In La Paz, you are skimming close to these houses, looking over laundry lines and rooftop patios, sliding between houses and over cemeteries. It’s really an awe inspiring trip and our only regret is that we could not find the time to ride the yellow and green lines further south into the dense city.
La Paz was our last contact with Bolivia as we have since crossed into Peru. Bolivia has moved in to our short list, joining Colombia, for those places we really wish we could have spent a little more time and that we urge others to see and experience for themselves.