30th July - 1st August 2007 After perhaps our most eventful bus journey yet, we made it in one piece to La Paz. We got in to an over packed minivan in Copocabana, for what should have been a simple 3 hour journey to La Paz, but we hadn´t banked on the road blocks at the top of the mountain 40 mins in to the trip. We had to get out of the van, get half our fare back from the driver and cross the road block on foot, which consisted of a lorry and loads of piled rocks in the road, with our bags and helplessly follow everyone else (who didn´t speak English). On the other side of the road block we all piled on to a coach heading for La Paz, and after waiting around for another hour we were on our way. After about 30 minutes of the driver rushing round the hilly bends at warp speed, the bus stopped and we were kicked out again in confusion. Like lemmings we followed everyone else, not being able to understand Spanish and in turn knowing F all about what was happening. We boarded a small overloaded boat and started making a river crossing, whilst we watched our coach, complete with our bags, being loaded onto what looked like a very unstable plank of wood. It slowly and shakely followed us across the water, as we both struggled to think whether our bags would be covered by the insurance policy if the bus sank. Luckily it didn´t and soon we were back on the road on our way to La Paz. The guide books pip the view of La Paz on your approach to be amazing. The city sits in a rounded chasm, with houses precariously balancing on the steep sides, surrounded by snow capped peaks. The view was amazing but not perhaps the fantasy we had created in our minds. The city was massive and not that pretty really, lots of houses and half finished buildings with a line of smog over the top. The place was really busy and crazy as well, the traffic was similar to Bangkok, loads and loads of minivans and massive traffic queues and we played chicken with cars as we attempted to cross the road and they attempted to run us over. Lucikly our bus pulled up on the street with all the hostals so we hopped out and found one pretty easily. Things were a little more expensive here, but still bloody cheap. Found a fab place to stay with probably the best hot shower we have had all trip, but as always on the top bloody floor with 6 flights to ascend to get there. This room came complete with the loudest neighbour in La Paz that Glen had to tell to shut the F up at 4am in his pants. Unfortunately he was head of some posh kids uni/school trip, who´s participants proceeded to keep us awake shouting loudly and having a ´jolly good time´, violence at this stage was on the cards. La Paz is an interesting City, but can be a little too much after a while. We even got entertained by a couple of pick pockets whilst sitting in a cafe sipping Cafe con leches. As we looked out the window we watched them operate, tapping people on the opposite shoulder to their bags and going for their bags. They were really stupid and blantant, everybody knew what they were doing, if the police weren´t too obsessed with their whistles and blowing them randomly at the traffic they may well have arrested them. Walking back to the hotel shortly after this Glen felt a tug on his bag and noticed the top pocket undone, for the first time on the trip somebody had tried to rob us. Luckily they didn´t succeed. We spent a day doing a walking tour from the Lonley Planet which took in most of the sites, the witches market which sold dead dried out llammas for good luck (wierd!) and through old colonial streets. We attempted to have a cheap lunch in a market, which we decided wasnt a good idea when we arrived, it looked like a prison kitchen full of shoe shine boys (men and boys who make a living cleaning peoples shoes on the streets, they wear balaclavas to avoid social stigma) and rough looking locals. We were being eyed up as the ´fresh meat´in town and didnt fancy sitting with them all eating the really rough looking food. That night we met 2 Irish guys and an Israeli girl in the local restaraunt who were travelling together. We went on to an English pub down some dark and dangerous allyways after dinner with them, and they lived up to the crazy Irish reputation by telling us many stories of their drunken exploits so far around the world, before leaving us to go to a local Coke bar to snort away all night. God we love the Irish!!! This bar is a traveller legend, nobody knows where it is, but if you jump in a taxi and say the name the driver will take you straight there. Both of us hadn´t heard of this place before we met these guys and felt quite out of our depth, so we decided to stay in the bar and finish our beers. The walk back to the hotel on our own was pretty scary, as we walked down dark deserted alleys with only local wierdos for company who were sifting through the rubbish left at the road side. The pressure mounted as we got lost, trying to walk fast in the altitude up steep streets, panting through exhaustion and worry. When we did eventually find our hostal it was all locked up and the night porter appeared to be unconscious and left us stood outside for about 10 minutes shaking the iron gates and ringing on the bell, whilst drunken locals passed glaring at us and cars slowed to see whether we were game. We decided to stay in the next night when we met them again in the restaurant, all coked out and getting their way through an entire loo roll blowing their noses. God we are getting old!