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La Paz, Bolivia- From the tranquil waters of Lake Titicaca to the bustling chaos of La Paz, the transition could hardly be more abrupt. After hours by bus through bare countryside, you are suddenly in a massive city. Red brick and mud block buildings, most half built, stretch for miles. A symphonic car-wreck of noise and movement, people shouting, buses honking, dogs fighting, street vendors carpeting the sidewalk, electric wires dangling, scrapyards and sewage. And that is just El Alto, the shantytown “suburb” that grows like a predatory weed out of the valley and into the high planes surrounding La Paz. And then you look out your bus window, over the edge, into the city which covers the valley like a clay-tiled bowl filled with an Incan god´s salad of bones, flowers, buildings, grease, wool, exhaust, and countless human beings.
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I landed in the witches market. Baskets full of stuffed toads with red marble eyes. Piles of dried llama fetuses, said to ward off malevolent spirits. Herbal preparations. Offerings for Pacha Mama (mother earth). Shoulder to shoulder on narrow streets. Great piles of tangerines laid out on blankets. The smell of flesh burning over coals. Everywhere the brilliant colors of darkly tanned and wrinkled old women in traditional dress, guarding little street stands, selling everything imaginable. (more…)
