La Paz

Day 2 .

Solo in the city

Time to venture alone into the metropolis. It's not the safest of places, La Paz,  but then no city is. My main issue is lack of Google maps, crikey, I m so technolgy dependant nowadays. Trying to read the real thing is a nightmare, glasses or no glasses, and useless anyway as there are no names anywhere.  The only way is to just to head out ...

Highlights: 

Recognising landmarks. Getting a feel for the ebb and flow of the city. Tracing the layout of the surrounding hills. Hearing the roar of traffic along the main thoroughfares against the chatter of hawkers in the narrow lanes.

San Francisco plaza. My main landmark

Watching the cable cars criss cross above me. Admiring the city centre spread out before me from the "sky walkway" in parque Urbano central, the high rises of modern skyscrapers towering above the ancient monasteries, cathedral spires reflected in their glittering windows.

View from parque Urbano central

Lowlights:

Getting lost. Repeatedly.
Falling flat on my face by putting my foot in a drain, occupational hazard. Luckily hurt pride but not body.

Avoiding drug pushers, not least because fining/imprisoning innocents abroad can be a lucrative business. The open way this is done under the gaze of armed police and the fact that I'm so obviously a tourist means I have to be constantly on my guard.

Learning curve:

It's impossible to be invisible. Bolivian people, esp the indigenous but also those of Spanish descent, are very short, and very round. So round. Plus women have long hair. Short hair is a no no.  I've heard several comments of 'hombre', not in an unfriendly way but in a genuinely puzzled tone.  I've got used to being conspicuous but I'm struggling with the walking at snail pace.

Btw: bolivian bowler hats:

The ubiquitous bowler hat is genuinely everywhere, perched atop indigenous cholita women at jaunty angles. Different angles indicate different status, married, available, etc.  It is as much part of daily life here as wellies are at home.

As usual, the British are to blame. Originally these bowler hats were manufactured to be sold to British railway workers over here in the 1800s to men who wanted a symbol of home. But when the goods arrived here the hats were too small. So two enterprising Manchester brothers persuaded the local women that the tiny bowler hat was the height of European fashion, and the rest is history.

Today the cholita folk wear the hat with pride. They  have reclaimed their heritage. Their name, once an insult, is now a badge of honour, and young and old wear the bowler, although the young estrew the multi layered skirts. Thank goodness, as frankly those  wearing them stink. Apparently girls practice from childhood to ensure their hat never falls off, at least not in public. 

Bolivia's indigenous women

Tonight the hostel noise and homesickness overwhelmed me, because, however much I thrive on the challenge of exploring, it's so exhausting, plus the altitude and need for  constant vigilance here is punishing. 
Tomorrow is a new day....

Day 3

New day, new room. I've moved to a higher floor, as per my view

view from my new room

Street noise is bad but on balance against partying travelers I'm going to give it a go as an alternative in a bid to get some rest at some point.
This is one crazy city and, much as I love cities, the constant noise /stress is wearing. 
There's so much to see here though, it's certainly different to England.