The Start in Bolivia

High above the Atlantic
Sipping my Champagne, I realized that I was finally on the road again. Everything went quite well on the flight from Prague to Paris. I just had to pay an extra 100 EUR for my bicycle, (it had cost only 50 EUR to take it to Mexico the previous year). This may be due to the different tariff zone, as La Paz in Bolivia is slightly further than Tijuana. I had not done an on-line check-in, so there was no aisle seat left. I tried to get an aisle seat again in Paris, but tough luck, all the aisle seats were taken. Caracas is the gateway to South America, that is the reason flights there are always so crowded. I tried an old trick - to sit in the aisle seat and wait to see if another passenger would come and sit in my reserved seat. Unfortunately, an experienced Dutch traveler arrived, so I had to move over to the middle seat. The situation looked really bad - a young coughing, spitting girl next to me, a family with three little kids kicking on the seats just behind me. And moreover, a 90-minute delay while waiting to take off. Fortunately, I spotted one free aisle seat, asked the flight attendant's permission and moved there. The crew was treating the stress of the passengers (caused by the delay) with fine Champagne, so I drank several glasses and everything looked rosy.

Innovations
I was to disappoint all those who expected me to have a new bike. No way! I could never leave my rusty old mate who had carried me for over 44,000 kilometers on many trips abroad. Anyway, I called Honza Tejnor, a mechanic "par excellence" - my son-in-law´s good friend. While I get dirty from top to toe even just while carrying out a small repair, he arrives in a white T-shirt and, after three hours of work, leaves again in the same sparkling clean T-shirt. This might be due to a special brand of washing powder (it is my son-in-law´s marketing job) but I don´t want to advertise on my website for any important international corporations.

Now back to the innovations. After the previous year's experience with the front bags by Ortlieb, I was certainly not going to try anything different. I got rid of the old equipment. In Germany I bought a back bag, rack bag and handlebar bag (including a map-holder, which looked really rainproof). This was in fact the only change - I kept the same tent, sleeping bag, ground sheet and covers. Out of respect, I packed my old cycling outfit, the same one which I had worn in Alaska four years earlier. The Keen cycling sandals were brand new (they had not been manufactured previously). It is true that my previous sandals had usually been destroyed after 5,000 kilometers in the rain, and every year I got my money back when claiming a refund. And as I am afraid of the cold, I took a sweater and warm long johns (bought after several freezing nights in Yukon, Canada).

Xindl
This is what I fondly call the Amazon Kindle reader. I realized that a guidebook of three countries (Bolivia, Chile and Argentina) would weigh more than 1 kilogram, whereas the Reader including its cover weighs only 400 grams. Moreover, with a 3G, you have a mobile connection almost everywhere in the world. So I was able to read the Czech news on the Internet while waiting for take-off in Paris. It is not an extremely convenient way of reading, but it simply delights me.

Hablo mejor Espaňol
After the previous year's biking-hiking in Mexico, I had forced myself to learn some Spanish. At first, I attended the elementary class at a language school (called something like ICU - Intensive Care Unit), but that was a disaster. I had not experienced anything so lousy for ages. After three months of studies, I couldn´t put together a simple sentence. I learned some grammar, conjugations and quite a lot of vocabulary. Then I discovered Simplified Spanish, the Czech translation of an American product for the fair price of 13 USD. I took it seriously: I made small cards and learned about 500 words and about 80 phrases. In the Metro, people would watch me suspiciously while I turned over these cards and whispered words to myself, but I think it was worth doing that. After a couple of glasses of Charles Lafitte Champagne, I started to ask for things only in Spanish and received exactly what I had asked for. Well, I thought, let´s see what happens in reality…

La Paz
After 25 hours, we finally landed. The time was 00:30 – half an hour past midnight (7.30 a.m. Czech time). The passport and Customs formalities took over an hour. After that, I found a quiet spot where I could assemble my bike. I tried doing it right in the Airport lounge. Attaching the handlebar bag took me the longest. Ortlieb has a unique system of hanging it over the cables, the stem and the handlebars. It worked well at first, but, after shortening the cable (recommended by Ortlieb), it just became a nightmare. I struggled with it for more than an hour before the cable ended up in the correct hole.

I wanted to calm myself down by a walk in front of the Airport lounge, but this was simply impossible. It was freezing cold. You know, at an altitude of 4,000 meters, the nights are not very warm. I wondered how I would manage to sleep in such cold weather in a tent, in the event of there not being any accommodation available. In the morning I put on my winter cycling pants and other winter clothing and set off for the hostel in the center of La Paz, where I had a reservation. Navigation was easy; I just cycled along the highway until I reached the city center. By the way, there was a sign saying that cyclists weren´t allowed on the highway, but when I asked for directions, I was sent right there by a policeman. They just take everything easy there! I easily descended 400 meters in altitude and, after 12 kilometers, reached the busy city traffic. Forget about the right of way! Everybody tries to push forward and it is simply a case of the survival of the fittest. Cars are crammed together, a few centimeters from each other, pedestrians cross the street among them, everybody is honking their horns. The old “crocks” smell bad and produce solid smog. The roads are steep, covered with cobblestones, so I stopped cycling and pushed the bike safely to the hostel.

[La Paz] Statue by the road from the airport to the city

[La Paz] The city is hilly, with much higher mountains above the city

[La Paz] The city overcrowded with cars

There isn´t much sightseeing in the city itself. The couple of churches built in the colonial era were closed (they open only for Mass). The city looks impressive from a distance. It is spread out over the hillsides of a deep valley. However, if you look closely at it, you see grinding poverty - chipped houses, damaged pavements, dirt and dust. Among all this, a good many locals lazing around next to their stalls. Sales take place mostly on the curb or in the street. An old woman sits, selling pieces of roast meat from a big plastic bag. Customers are eating it in the dust around the woman. Over there, pastry, herbs, ice-cream or fruit cups, absolutely everything is being sold. And the stench of car fumes is present everywhere. Nevertheless, I visited the main sights - the (closed) Cathedral and Presidential Palace at Plaza Murillo, the Witches' Market - which is a market for various herbs and ingredients used in local traditional medicine. For instance, you can buy dried toucan beaks, dried llama fetuses and other substances unknown to me. Shamanic medicine men wearing white hats walk around and, if you ask them, they will make up a combination of ingredients which will cure your troubles or ailments.

Jet Lag and Altitude Sickness are a Great Combination
This I experienced after approximately two hours of walking around the city. I became out of breath at the slightest incline, I was not hungry nor had any interest in anything. Moreover, I had a headache - an unknown phenomenon to me. So I went to bed and woke up 16 hours later! It had helped, but I still felt the altitude. As I had been expecting something of the sort, I had planned three nights of acclimatization in La Paz.

[La Paz] Presidential palace at Plaza Murillo

[La Paz] At Mecrado de Hechicería (Witches Market) you can get even these dried llama foetuses

[La Paz] Trading takes place right in the streets, even at busy crossroads. Drivers have to pull over to the side

Tiwanaku
This is the most famous site in Bolivia, situated approximately 70 kilometers from La Paz. There are the ruins of pyramids and of three temples built by a thriving civilization 600 years before Christ. Before the Spanish arrived, the civilization disappeared for unknown reasons. The Incas took control of the area for about a hundred years. There isn´t much left from that period, as the Spanish used the large square stones to build their cathedrals. The gold objects disappeared first of all, so now only the temples' foundations remain. The Akapana Pyramid caved in, buried in soil (supposedly by a flood from the 15-kilometer distant Lake Titicaca ). Pachamama (Mother Earth) is the main showpiece of the local Museum. But taking photos is strictly forbidden there. The Spanish were quite irritated by one of the sculptures - the sculpture of a priest - and wanted it to be destroyed to suppress the influence of local religion. The statue carved from andesite stone (a volcanic material with an admixture of iron) resisted all attempts at destruction. The Spanish called in an exorcist who had his sign engraved into the right arm of the statue, thus damaging the right shoulder. But the statue is set up again, amazing onlookers with its decoration of symbolic pumas, condors and snakes. It is also interesting that, in that early culture, the numbers 3 and 7 were important. There were 3 main levels – the black underground, the red earth and the white sky. The number 7 (the number of pyramid steps, by the way) represented the spiritual level. The lowest and the highest levels were represented by the same symbolic animal - the condor. In the excavations, some skulls deformed into oval shapes were discovered, with some artificially drilled holes containing the remnants of golden plugs or caps. It was thought that, by opening the skull, telepathic abilities would be facilitated. The skulls were deformed on purpose by binding from childhood and the person with such a skull was classified as someone from the ruling class (so there was no need of a “red” membership card or a lapel badge in order to be recognized as a member of the ruling class).

I paid for a guided tour, which took me everywhere by coach and which took in everything, including a presentation in Spanish and English. The information described in the previous paragraph comes from the local guide. Not much is said about it in the "Lonely Planet" guidebook. By the way, the altitude sickness continued. When climbing the stairs up to the 18-meter high pyramid, I was puffing like a steam engine. I was pleased I was not the only one among the “white men” to be sweating and puffing hard.

[Tiwanaku] Behind the monolithic statue of a priest, 5 of the 7 levels of the Akapana Pyramid are to be seen

[Tiwanaku] Gate of the Sun

[Tiwanaku] The walls of Templete Semisubterráneo are decorated with 175 faces carved in stone

[Tiwanaku] A farm on the Altiplano

Lake Titicaca
This was my next destination. I could not miss seeing this unique expanse of water covering an area of 8,400 square kilometers, 3,808 meters above sea level, surrounded by mountains of approximately 6,000 meters in height. I bought a return ticket to Copacabana, 135 kilometers away. It was sufficient for me to see the lake from the bus window, to walk along the lake shore and to enjoy the marvelous local trout in one of the numerous restaurants there. Unfortunately I didn´t have enough time for a boat trip to the Island of the Sun. But even the trip around the lake was a great experience—the combination of the ragged large expanse of water surrounded by 6,000-meter snow-covered peaks was just breathtaking!

The Cathedral in Copacabana has the following reputation: anything possible can be baptized there. That´s why people go there to have their new “four-wheeled pets” baptized. These cars are beautifully decorated, covered in flowers; some of them have large models of other cars on top. After baptism, their owners take them to the coast and pour beer over them (Champagne is quite expensive, after all!) and they feel joy, feel moved and simply enjoy it. From a rational point of view, it is a silly thing, but , on the other hand, why not feel joy when you have spent a fortune on a new vehicle (el coche in Spanish, if you prefer)?

[Lake Titicaca] Impressive sights of the lake from the coach

[Copacabana] Typical tourist boat on Lake Titicaca

[Copacabana] Cars are baptized in the local church; newly baptized cars are shown off at the shore

[El Alto] A folk celebration right on the highway; women wearing bowler hats as casual wear

[El Alto] One lane of the highway was occupied by the folk celebration with cars in between: result – total chaos!

After my return from Copacabana, I went through all my bags and fiddled with the SPD pedal on my right shoe, which wasn´t working properly, preparing myself for the tough start to my trip. At first I was to take the highway again up to 4,000 meters and then I would set off along the Altiplano towards the Bolivian capital of Sucre. We would see…

Everything goes Wrong
Before my departure, I did a test ride without any load and I was shocked that I was out of breath after just cycling up a really short hill, although I had put in a lot of training beforehand. Two months before my departure, I had been cycling about 25 kilometers a day on an empty stomach. On the testing hill from the “Prokopske” valley to “Divci hrady” in Prague, I was regularly knocking spots off much younger cyclists. I said “regularly” - well, that had happened exactly twice. Not many cyclists go there, due to the steep gradient.

It was clear to me that I could not continue in that state and would need more acclimatization. If that didn't help, I would have to depart from those heights. I arranged with the receptionist at the hostel to leave my bags and bike there (free of charge, they don't make a fuss about anything there) and I would go by bus to Sucre and Potosí with one small bag. After five days, I would return and it would then be clear to me whether my “long-tested organism” would be able to cope or not. If not, I would catch a bus to the Chilean coast. After all, I did have my swimming trunks with me.

Walking around town, I saw a healthcare event in one section of a closed highway where (among other things) you could have your blood pressure measured. Young girls were shown diagrams of their reproductive organs on a notice board, on which was demonstrated where the “horrible thing” might penetrate into them at an early age. They were shown 3-D phalluses of reasonable sizes - most probably for the reason of saving them from the disappointment of their lives. Then I bought some vegetables at a huge market, which was spread over several streets. In the evening, I bought a coach ticket to Sucre. It travelled only at night, so I would not be seeing the landscape, but it meant I could save something towards my accommodation. Finally, I went to look at the interiors of two of the most amazing churches. On Sundays, Mass is held and so the churches are open then. The confirmation of about 300 children – girls in white dresses, boys in white togas, all of them holding lighted candles – was being held in the Cathedral. An interesting and touching ceremony. The Catholic Church knows how to do things.

[La Paz] The first communion in the cathedral: big celebration

[La Paz] Not even the best clothes can help to win the heart of the chosen lady

Sucre
I bought a coach ticket for the most expensive type of coach –the cama (i.e. bed). There are also semi-cama and ordinary coaches. I can speak about the cama only in superlatives. I had never before travelled in such a splendid coach. There are only three seats in a row, arranged in rows of two seats and one single seat. The seats are unusually wide, so you can set the backrest down to an almost horizontal position. You can also tilt the leg support. My seat was in the upper section, right in the front above the driver. In the beginning, I was putting my foot on an imaginary brake. On one hand, the distance between vehicles is deceptive, due to the height of the coach, while, on the other hand, they drive really very close to each other. I can´t imagine the reactions of people in our country to 5-centimeter distances between cars and also between cars and people. It is a fact that one has to be cautious. Pedestrians are not a protected species like in our country! I had the foresight to take a sleeping bag with me, so I had a good sleep during the 12-hour journey.

Much-praised Sucre is obviously the most beautiful city in Bolivia. However, as far as I was concerned, I could easily have given it a miss, as I had been spoiled by the Mexican colonial towns and cities. But I was glad to be at an altitude of only 2,750 meters, where the breathlessness definitely left me. I spent the night in a hostel, cooking my own lunch and dinner as I was quite fed up with restaurant food. When I am cycling, I can eat anything at all, I don´t care what I eat, because what I need is some energy. I was really looking forward to “getting into the saddle”.

[Sucre] One of many inner atriums

Bad Luck, Bad Luck, Bad Luck, Good Luck
Casa de la Libertad, where the Bolivian independence was proclaimed, was the most incredible sight. That is why Sucre is the capital, although all the important civil services and offices are in the much bigger city of La Paz. I was interested in two famous churches there - the Cathedral and Chapel of Our Lady of Guadalupe where there is the most valuable painting in South America of the Virgin Mary, covered in gold, silver and precious stones. The second church –the Church of Nuestra Seňora de la Merced—is said to have the most beautiful interior in Bolivia. Churches here are not normally open to the public, only during Mass (they most probably know the reason for this), so tourists pay a moderate entrance fee, after which they may go inside and look around a church.

The first bit of bad luck was that the Merced Church was completely closed for reconstruction, so even the Museum was closed. So I went to the Cathedral Museum, which is connected to the Chapel of Our Lady of Guadalupe. As I was waiting there with several Spanish-speaking tourists, some action began around us. In answer to our questions, two ladies in overalls carrying flower stands told us to wait. After half an hour of waiting, one of them took off her overalls and (now in her civvies) announced that the Museum would be closed that day and the next morning.

I walked around a couple of other sights and, on returning to the Museum, learned why it and access to the chapel with the unique painting were closed. The procession with the aforementioned painting was just about to start. The advance guard (I am not afraid to call them this) – the artillery – fired crackers at every intersection. The artillery was followed by girls in white, wearing angels´ wings, surrounded by priests in white robes. Behind them you could see some grubby but happy men bent under the burden of a huge painting. A pompous high church dignitary walked in front of them with the crosier. Next to him there was a lady with highly-effective incense; and crowds of people with church flags were walking behind them. So I was lucky to be able to see the famous painting after all!

The last bit of bad luck was the fact that one of the massive firecrackers (30 meters from me) burnt my good old windstopper sweatshirt which I had used for biking-hiking since 2005. I know it needed to be discarded, but it was still good enough for me. I repaired it with silver adhesive tape. We don´t throw old friends in the garbage, do we? (as it is sung in one silly nursery rhyme). But after all, this was good luck - if the cracker had hit me in the face, my trip would have been over.

[Sucre] La Virgen de Guadalupe painting is decorated with silver, gold and precious stones, so it is really heavy

[Sucre] The procession was really massive

[Sucre] Girls dressed up as angels attracted wide attention

[Sucre] This firecracker, one of many, burnt my windstopper jacket from a distance of 30 meters. The cars must have looked terrible after that

Skillful Thieves and a Camera Lost Forever
I left Sucre and travelled by coach to Potosí. The route was peaceful, passing through hilly countryside. Potosí is situated at an altitude of 4,070 meters. I watched some cyclists and it looked like quite hard work. The coach station in Potosí “sticks out like a sore thumb” - it is a modern glass circular building surrounded by typical unplastered buildings, which have remained unfinished for ages. I wanted to take a photo of it, looked for my camera in my bag, but oh – it was missing! So I went back to the coach, searched everywhere, asked the driver, but no luck! I found it odd, and started to think where it could have happened. Finally, I understood. Just before the coach departure from Sucre, an official-looking lady had arrived, checked my ticket and told me to put my bag on the rack above me. I found it really weird, but she insisted, so I obliged her. The coach was just starting up when suddenly a countrywoman burst in, rushed towards me and started to make a fuss, saying that I was sitting in her seat. Another woman was pushing forward through the aisle. I showed her my ticket and said I was sitting in the right seat, so she said that they must have made a mistake and that she would have to settle it somehow. She got out of the coach and since then I had not set eyes on her again. The other woman who was pushing behind her got out as well…She had most probably taken my camera from my bag. I won´t have any photos of Potosí; I will have to buy a new camera in La Paz. That's life!

Freelance Miners
Potosí is well-known for its silver mines in the mountain aptly named Cerro Rico (Rich Mountain). It contained an enormous quantity of silver, which financially supported Spain for decades. However, Bolivia didn´t profit much from it. The Spanish even imported Africans who worked in unbearable conditions, remaining underground for several months, living, sleeping, and especially working like slaves in the mines. Eight million miners are said to have perished in these silver mines.

Nowadays there is not much silver left; lead, zinc and tin are mined. Many miners are self-employed, they have their claims in the mountain, come to work whenever they like, have to buy everything (dynamite, detonators, tools) and then carry the mined ore in backpacks out of the mine. They give a certain percentage of their income to the government in return for using State property - the mine. The miners working in cooperatives are better off than the self-employed, because they are able to afford more mechanization, but, on the other hand, they have to pay something not only to the State but also to the cooperative. However, in both cases, mining is primitive, the holes for dynamite are often dug by hand, although the cooperatives even have pneumatic drills. The ore is taken away on hand-carts or on the shoulders. The conditions in the mines are pretty terrible: low, narrow, twisting tunnels (miners follow the metal vein), plenty of dust (dust disease or silicosis is a common disease among miners working here for a long time) and temperatures of up to 35 degrees Celsius at the lower levels—all this at an altitude of 4,100 meters!

Tourist agencies offer guided tours for tourists to enter the mine and observe these miners where they are working as usual. It is not expensive (approximately 10 USD) but it is not suitable for everyone. The tunnels are narrow, one often has to crawl on all fours, abseil down and then climb up a wall. Heat and dust –so a wet scarf over the mouth is absolutely essential. There were four of us in the group, accompanied by two guides, former miners. One of them spoke good English and led the whole tour, the other one was there for security and rescue (if necessary). We were given some clothes, helmets and torches. Then we went to the local market and bought presents for the miners – the best gifts were dynamite, detonators, nitrate and some beverages (non-alcoholic), cigarettes and coca leaves. I bought a set of dynamite for about 3 USD. This included dynamite, detonator and safety fuse. We also tasted the typical miners´ spirits, which is roughly 90% pure alcohol and surprisingly cheap.

After the first meters of crawling, I asked myself why I had ever entered that place. I put some more coca leaves in my mouth and started to enjoy the experience, until finally I had a great time for over two hours underground. The mine workers don´t eat at all in the mines, because of the dust; so they just chew coca leaves. At that time, there were only a few miners in the mine; the day before there had been a party where they had got drunk and that afternoon there was a football match, so it was not worth coming there for just a couple of hours. Anyway, we talked to some of them – finding out how many children they had, how rich the vein was, how long they had worked in the mine, what the state of their lungs was, etc. And of course, we gave them our presents. In conclusion, we blasted some dynamite in an abandoned adit. It was fun. Derek, an English doctor, was scared to death and didn´t even wait for the fuse to be lit. The fuse burns for approximately two minutes before the blast. Derek crawled away like a madman to hide around a bend in the tunnel. There he lay on the ground, his head in the dust. After the blast went off, he explained to me that dynamite produces gas which can harm the lungs and he was trying to avoid the worst from happening. His wife openly laughed at him for his cowardice.

There were two Czech girls in the hostel: Tereza had been studying in Buenos Aires for half a year and Eva had come to visit her and to go on a final trip together. They were also going to La Paz on the same night coach, so we went together for coffee and a chat. Tereza had been robbed seven times in Argentina. She had her passport, all her documents and laptop stolen. The common trick of thieves is that they spill something over you and then, while they are apologizing and you are trying to clean your clothes, you find yourself robbed. Good to know... It would have been useful for me to have known that a few days earlier.

New Camera and GPS Navigation
On the Friday I ran around La Paz, searching for a new camera. I wanted the same type that I'd had stolen - a Canon G12 - but I only found a G10, which I'd had when in Japan and Mexico. I had almost resigned myself to this, when I was suddenly overjoyed to discover a G12. I came to an agreement about the price (it was slightly lower than in our country) and started to hunt for a GPS navigation. The thing was that I had met a cyclist who had come from the area where I was about to go. He told me I had no chance without a GPS. He said that there are unmarked and unsignposted dirt roads, sometimes three roads running parallel to each other, with one after another turn-off. So how do you know which one to take? The same thing applies on the salt flats, where there are no landmarks. It would be simply impossible to cycle without any GPS navigation. So I found a Garmin Oregon 550 GPS, bought the map of Bolivia and Chile on SD cards in addition, and negotiated the price.

I knew the total amount for the camera and the GPS was about 1,000 USD and so I went to withdraw the money from an ATM. What a blow! I found that my daily limit had been exceeded. I went to the bank where I was told that most of the local ATMs dispense a maximum of only 1000 bolivianos per day on any single card. I needed almost 8,000 Bolivianos! So I started to go from one ATM to the next, withdrawing 1000 at each. Fortunately, ATMs are always in a niche with a latched door, so nobody could see how much I was withdrawing. Nevertheless, the ATMs issued 1000 in a mixture of 20- and 100-notes, so the money started to bulge in my pockets. It was immediately noticed by some bright boys and I knew there would soon be trouble. So I withdrew enough at least for the camera and walked cautiously to the store approximately 1,500 meters away.

It happened on a crowded crossroads filled with market stalls. A girl threw a bag under my feet and started to pull it out and the boys around started to swear at me. I understood what was happening, so I put my hands into my pockets and started to shout: "Policia, Policia!" My pockets were already open but the money had not yet been stolen. So I survived. I only bought the camera for the time being. I withdrew the rest of the money on the Saturday to buy the GPS. I was happy I could set the GPS menu in Czech. Initially I had wanted to leave on the Saturday, but because of the cash problems, I decided to leave only on the Sunday.

[La Paz] My hostel room: realistically painted