Whew! What a cliff hanger eh? Hope not too many of you are biting your nails in sheer anxiety about what was to come in La Paz....
On our first day in La Paz, as we wandered the city trying to get our bearings, we began to hear loud explosions in the distance and realising that they were getting closer, we cautiously made our way to the main street. There we saw a large protest consisting of many workers groups carrying banners, chanting and shouting, completely blocking off the main street while hecklers yelled angrily at them from the pedestrian bridge above. The explosions were a result of the dynamite the protesters were letting off in the street and firing (like a giant roman candle) into the air and at the hecklers on the pedestrian bridge! People were running from the progress of the protest with their ears blocked while bemused police looked on. We were curious but needless to say a bit freaked (Tessa was reading a book about crowd violence at english football matches at this time). As such we headed away from the protest to find that the police had posted large riot equipped contingents outside all the major ministries and government buildings and at one stage a dozen armed police on motorbikes swarmed past us. And what was all this in aid of? The workers and miners wanted the pension age lowered from 65 to 55....
The upshot of all this was that not only was it difficult to get around town during all the marches, it was also very difficult to get out of the city. Bolivians love to express themselves politically by blocking main roads and transport routes, grinding the economy to a halt and creating what could be violent and fatal confrontations. Our plans were constantly uprooted by news of fresh roadblocks, which meant we were stuck in La Paz for the immediate future.
La Paz was in fact quite a nice city and not that bad a place to be stuck. In comparison to many cities we have visited La Paz was clean and also had a lot of atmosphere. Once we had realised the balaclava clad packs of roaming youngsters were only shoeshine boys we felt a bit safer. The city was packed with markets (complete with dried llama foetuses), parks and interesting museums including a coca museum and a museum of musical instruments. We walked up to a kids playground which had great views of the city including the river which has basically turned into a giant open sewer.
Many people we had met had recommended that we cycle down the "death road", which I didn´t tell my mum about at the time. The death road earned its name when it was the main route between La Paz and the lowlands, with such high usage along a narrow windy gravel road with perilous sheer drops, that high accident and death rates were almost inevitable. The ride involves biking down from the sierra at about 4600m elevation, straight down the mostly single lane gravel road to the beginnings of the jungle at 1300m taking about four hours. The road is now closed to traffic and is hence filled with tourists zipping down at breakneck speeds. It was a lot of fun and needless to say it turned into a bit of an unofficial race to see who could keep up with our guide.
After being in La Paz for almost a week, we heard that the roads would be open for Independence Day. We rushed down to the bus station and booked a bus that night bound for Potosí, a town that we figured would be less likely to have problems and was also on the way south towards Argentina. Filled with hope by the reassurances of the bus company we hopped on the busand crossed our fingers.
On our first day in La Paz, as we wandered the city trying to get our bearings, we began to hear loud explosions in the distance and realising that they were getting closer, we cautiously made our way to the main street. There we saw a large protest consisting of many workers groups carrying banners, chanting and shouting, completely blocking off the main street while hecklers yelled angrily at them from the pedestrian bridge above. The explosions were a result of the dynamite the protesters were letting off in the street and firing (like a giant roman candle) into the air and at the hecklers on the pedestrian bridge! People were running from the progress of the protest with their ears blocked while bemused police looked on. We were curious but needless to say a bit freaked (Tessa was reading a book about crowd violence at english football matches at this time). As such we headed away from the protest to find that the police had posted large riot equipped contingents outside all the major ministries and government buildings and at one stage a dozen armed police on motorbikes swarmed past us. And what was all this in aid of? The workers and miners wanted the pension age lowered from 65 to 55....
A little political background that we have learnt in our time since, I´ll try to be brief. As with most politicians, El Presidente had promised the earth in order to get elected, and was failing to deliver and is alienating the rural workers and coca growers he represents. He´s also trying to nationalise everything in sight, alienating the rest of the country. In the week to come there was to be a referendum to decide whether the president could continue doing what he wanted. Every other group decided this would be a good time to try and get what they want (including the city´s disabled who, with a lack of foresight, organised a march a few days later going UP the main road). Throw in the fact that the city was also throwing independance day celebrations all over the show and you´ve got a pile of confused chaos.
The upshot of all this was that not only was it difficult to get around town during all the marches, it was also very difficult to get out of the city. Bolivians love to express themselves politically by blocking main roads and transport routes, grinding the economy to a halt and creating what could be violent and fatal confrontations. Our plans were constantly uprooted by news of fresh roadblocks, which meant we were stuck in La Paz for the immediate future. 
La Paz was in fact quite a nice city and not that bad a place to be stuck. In comparison to many cities we have visited La Paz was clean and also had a lot of atmosphere. Once we had realised the balaclava clad packs of roaming youngsters were only shoeshine boys we felt a bit safer. The city was packed with markets (complete with dried llama foetuses), parks and interesting museums including a coca museum and a museum of musical instruments. We walked up to a kids playground which had great views of the city including the river which has basically turned into a giant open sewer.Many people we had met had recommended that we cycle down the "death road", which I didn´t tell my mum about at the time. The death road earned its name when it was the main route between La Paz and the lowlands, with such high usage along a narrow windy gravel road with perilous sheer drops, that high accident and death rates were almost inevitable. The ride involves biking down from the sierra at about 4600m elevation, straight down the mostly single lane gravel road to the beginnings of the jungle at 1300m taking about four hours. The road is now closed to traffic and is hence filled with tourists zipping down at breakneck speeds. It was a lot of fun and needless to say it turned into a bit of an unofficial race to see who could keep up with our guide.
After being in La Paz for almost a week, we heard that the roads would be open for Independence Day. We rushed down to the bus station and booked a bus that night bound for Potosí, a town that we figured would be less likely to have problems and was also on the way south towards Argentina. Filled with hope by the reassurances of the bus company we hopped on the busand crossed our fingers. However, we woke up at around midnight to realise that the bus had come to a stop in the middle of nowhere. We were stuck sleeping at the roadblock for eight hours while fires were lit all down the highway. In the morning things at the block began to get heated with the protesters arguing with the bus drivers and passengers while they let off dynamite. A line of buses stretched as far as the eye could see with crowds milling about not knowing whether to stay with the bus or try and cross the block by foot. Eventually we were allowed through after the drivers managed to convince the protesters that we were all starving, and as we drove through the block we discovered it was caused by only a dozen people! This would be our most spectacular run in with the roadblocks...
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