Slow Motion

Everything happens slowly in Bolivia.

There are only two daily international flights that arrive in La Paz. Both of them don't arrive until after midnight. Our flight arrived on schedule at 2:15 a.m. People were slow to get off the plane, and our seats were near the back.

We stood in line for almost an hour getting through immigration and customs. It was the slowest process we've ever encountered crossing a border. The line moved ever so slowly, and when we finally reached the front, we found out why. Even though we had acquired visas in advance, for which we had to submit current photographs, we had to answer questions about ourselves and where we would be staying in Bolivia. Our answers were typed into an ancient Dell computer by a person who had only hunt-and-peck typing skills. Then we had to be photographed.

At customs, they seemed perplexed that we didn't have customs forms completed. No one had even mentioned them, much less given them to us. The light level was low, and the English translations on the form were so tiny that we couldn't read them. Most of the questions on the form were questions we had just finished answering at the immigration desk.

We finally got through and met our driver. He warned us to walk slowly because of the high altitude. We had already figured out that we couldn't walk at our normal pace, but he was even slower. Nice guy, but he even drove slowly, despite the fact that we were nearly the only vehicle on the road at 3:30 a.m. Of course, part of that was the road conditions. Bolivia is a Third World country, and even though they don't have winter here, they have even more pot holes in the roads than Minnesota.

We were exhausted when we reached the hotel, but we were checked in -- slowly. And we took the elevator to our room on the sixth floor. It was a very slow elevator. But a large and beautiful room when we got there.

After a limited but nice breakfast, we met our group and set out to visit The Valley of the Moon. It really does look like a moonscape! The clay erodes every rainy season, completely reshaping the moonscape. Our tour leader, Williams, took us through it very slowly. But in his defense, we were feeling the altitude and probably wouldn't have been able to do it much faster.

A big chunk of the morning was spent very pleasantly riding the La Paz mass transit system. Steep mountains, twisting valleys, and the unstable clay soil, all conspire to make a subway system impossible in La Paz. To get above the narrow, twisting and congested streets that snarl traffic in the old city, they came up with an ingenious, unique and innovative system of cable cars. The system was built by the Austrian company that has, for many decades, built most of the gondola ski-lift systems in the Alps and for ski slopes around the world.

The system has multiple cable lines criss-crossing the city. Routes cover more than 20 miles horizontally and more than 3000 feet vertically. It was relatively cheap to build because it didn't require bulldozing a huge right-of-way. Each supporting tower requires only about 10 square feet of foundation, and stations were constructed elevated over roadways. It's cheap and fun to ride, carries thousands of commuters daily, and it's actually the fastest moving thing in La Paz!

The driver picked us up at the end of the line and took us to the market area. City streets in the downtown are narrow and traffic is congested. Nothing moves very fast. Our group set out walking through these streets, past shops selling everything from plumbing supplies to electronics. One entire block was only for costumes used at Carnival, coming up just before Ash Wednesday. Sidewalks were narrow and crowded, so we moved slowly.

Lunch was at a restaurant in the market area. We were served the standard lunch special, consisting of a very good soup, an interesting pasta dish, and a sort of cake brownie dessert. We then continued visiting the market -- slowly because we have shoppers in the group.

La Paz is definitely a Third World city. There is lots of poverty, infrastructure is not up to date. But it's amazingly clean, and there is lots of art and color everywhere.

We visited the "Witches Market." These are shops that sell the various charms and talismans that native people take to the indigenous shaman for ceremonies for prosperity and good luck. Most are just clay figures or decorated sugar blocks, but llama fetuses are also considered excellent sacrificial offerings (yes, real ones from natural miscarriages and stillbirths, preserved)!

Finally, we visited a seasonal market -- really more of a fair or flea market -- where hundreds and hundreds of temporary stalls were set up to sell miniatures. Miniatures of what? Of everything one might wish for. In the indiginous culture, if you wish to have a house, you buy a miniature model of the house you wish for. If you want a car, you buy a miniature of that car. If a college degree is your wish, you buy a miniature diploma (even if studying might be a better way to get it).

There were even miniature brides and grooms -- or if you are merely wishing for a boyfriend or girlfriend, you buy a symbolic miniature rooster or hen. You can even get miniature stacks of money, usually held together by a frog, the symbol of prosperity. The possibilities are endless -- even miniature baby dolls (choose male or female). This market only appears for the new year, and we were fortunate to see it. But we went through so slowly, that with less than four hours of sleep the previous night, we were spent.

Fortunately, that was the end of the day's activities, and we had the rest of the evening to collapse.