The Long Dull Road to La Paz

Having spent a few days relaxing in the white-washed city of Sucre I made my way back to Oruro to dust off my bike. Sucre is a world heritage site as the architecture in the centre has been untouched since Spanish colonial times. Sucre was a really nice break from the bike as there is not a whole lot to do there. Thus, it was just a case of heading to the market every day for lunch and treats and then to the gringo restaurant at night for some really good food. The gringo restaurant had happy hour from 5-7 except unusually in this case it was two for one the cakes. Thus, I'd head there for 6.30, have two deserts and then settle in for a movie over dinner. The salad was unbelievable, I've rarely had a salad that filled me up so much. In addition the hostel I stayed in was quite a nice space and with blue skies and cool people to chat to I ended up having a really good time. However, the penny dropped that I had the Spanish as opposed to the Bolivians to thank for Sucre and so it made sense to move on to somewhere more authentic. The experience was another reminder that good travelling moments are more a function of the company you are in rather than the place you are in.

I wasn't looking forward to the ride from Oruro to La Paz for two reasons; i) it would mean two highway days just trucking with nothing but tarmac to look at, and ii) I was back on my own again having said goodbye to the Dutch lads. In the end their trip imploded once I left them, which was sad to hear. Tom 1 had a problem with his ankle and so was told to take a month off the bike to heal it. He headed to Lima to chill out with his girlfriend who is doing her masters research in Peru. Wychert, being more a soccer player than a cyclist, had always planned on heading home to Amsterdam to watch the World Cup. Tom 2 was running out of cash and doesn't much like riding on his own. Thus, he could not hang around a month for Tom 1 to heal and so the two Toms decided to park their trip and fly home shortly. I was sad to hear it as they had ridden from the continent's southern-most city of Ushuaia and would have hoped to arrive in the Colombian Riviera in a few months. Unfortunately changes of plan are all part and parcel of long-distance adventure cycling. However, they can always complete the trip at another time.

I rode the final 243k to the world's highest capital city in 26 hours having stopped half-way in a cross-roads town called Patacamaya. As expected it was two-workhorse days of pretty dull-riding trucking at an average altitude of about 3900ms. The only highlight was watching the return of Brett 'The Hitman' Hart to the wrestling ring (Raw Jan 2010) while munching on frankfurters and hamburgers on the main-road in Patacamaya. WWE is such a massive export that it is common to be able to watch re-runs of it in the street here in Bolivia. It was such a surprise to see an 80's wrestling icon back in the ring having had such a bitter relationship with the federation in the past. They killed his brother having literally slammed him into the ring from a height when a stunt went badly wrong. Then, they controversially rolled the dead body out of the ring and the show went on. But hey, that's entertainment and there is no better entertainment than the athleticism of WWE .... especially when tired at 4000ms in a nothing town in Bolivia.

The dull ride into La Paz was made a little nervy by the fact that I would have to ride through El Alto, one of Bolivia's poorer neighbourhoods. In the end I stayed on the main road with all the goddam 'micros' cutting me up all over the place that I didn't have the chance to appreciate my surroundings. As Bolivians don't have much money people rely on public transport with micros being the most popular type in and around cities. Micros are mini-vans operating set routes and they are absolutely everywhere in La Paz pulling in and out with no set-stops. Having navigated my way through El Alto I suddenly stumbled on the most spectacular views of La Paz. El Alto at 4000ms sits above the capital, which lies in the middle of a bowl of mountains. La Paz itself sits at 3600ms and so it was one helluva drop into the centre having stopped to take in the stunning views.

I have been in La Paz a few days now staying in the Wild Rover. I have not done much but for throwing out my stinky runners and buying a new pair. This was an impossible task as while my feet are a normal size back-home they are impossibly big here. Thus, I had to buy the only pair I could find that would fit me. This was almost as impossible a task as buying shower gel ... Bolivians just seem to use bars of soap it seems. I would also prepare for my interview with the US embassy in La Paz in the hope of obtaining a six month travel visa for the US. Everything was against me as when applying for a visa you are guilty of immigration before setting foot in the States and so you have to prove that you are not an intending immigrant. Not having a job, not having a house and not applying in my home country should all count seriously against me but in the end the guy saw the Irish passport and after a quick five minute chat my application was approved. Thus, the saga of the bionic dude continues apace.

Time to hatch plans so

the dude

El Mirador (view-point) above SucreEl Miradorkid running too fast for his capapricot tree in the hostel in Sucrethe bowl that is the city of La Paz