Though it is not the official capital of Bolivia, this is the city where everything gets done. For travelers, it’s the launch pad for sightseeing and biking the World’s Most Dangerous Road. For fruit and avo freaks like ourselves, it’s got the best markets I’ve been to for the purposes of stocking up.
 

 

Getting There and Away

All busses converge here, it’s hard to mess this one up. For connecting to Peru, if interested in Lake Titicaca, bus toward Puno. If you want to head to Cusco for Machu Picchu or toward the capital, a more direct route cuts through Desaguadero.

 

 

Accommodation

It seems like the entire continent of Europe is partying at either Wild Rover or Loki every night. It’s near impossible to stay without booking a couple days in advance, and Marcela and I would not be us if we were that organized. When we visited these hostels later on to see friends, there was strict security and curfew, an abundance of rules, and everything fun or yummy called for additional money. That’s just how party hostels are.

Instead, Bash ‘n’ Crash did the job at a remarkable $6 a night, with unreliable shower temperature, bathrooms literally shared with a bar, and a very limited supply of toilet paper.

 

 

See and Do

Markets

Day 81

The vibrant colors of food and souvenirs filled the streets going uphill behind the main square, Plaza de San Francisco. Marcela was familiar with which women offered the best deals on deditos and figs. The highlight of our day was sitting on a dirty curb, pouring water from a bottle onto Marcela’s sweater, rubbing each fig with the wet sweater patch, and stuffing our faces. I wouldn’t have been too alarmed if we started hacking hairballs from the amount of wool we ingested.

 

 

Look out for the Witches’ Market along Calle Santa Cruz. Elixers and charms celebrating Pachamama were sold by magical Cholas.

 

 

The Death Road

Day 82

Looking back, this was nothing special. I personally recommend paying the entry fee to the park and simply taking a day to hike the road. It’s safer, loads cheaper, and a far superior method of getting the most out of the views.

But if you still want the bragging rights of surviving a bike ride on the most dangerous road on earth, plus you can squeeze $80 out of your budget, book at any hostel and prepare for lots of views and lots of dust. Do double check reviews of tour companies on TripAdvisor to ensure your safety. We used Barracuda.

Yungas, better known as The Death Road, is 32 kilometers of cliff-side dirt. That’s it. Much safer these days, vehicles still pass both ways. You must bike with a licensed tour company, but it’s more sitting on a bike for hours of downhill with your hands on the brakes. The companies actually removed the ten kilometers of uphill grind by putting you briefly back on the bus to help facilitate our laziness (to my dismay).

Entire busses used to just fall over the edge. Between 1993 and 2003, there were 4,400 deaths. I find it royally messed up that the loss of lives has grown a giant tourism industry out of it (and my own participation makes me guilty of contributing), ranking it the third top attraction in Bolivia on TripAdvisor. 36 tourists have died biking. My roommate at the time of writing this had a brace on her wrist from crashing.

In the beginning I was nervous and braked too hard, falling on myself. Thankfully I didn’t go fast. The ride got increasingly dusty, and at the end we were rewarded buffet and beer and shirts. We had a mini rave in the bus during the return to La Paz with four boys from the U.K. The night would continue on to feature some salsa moves, and the most bizarre lesson on traditional Scottish dance. Ever.

 

El Alto

Day 83

Above the city existed a network of cable cars that are dirt cheap and fun to ride. About an hour before our bus for Lake Titicaca was pulling out of the terminal, M and I hopped on the red line and took it to up to El Alto. At the top we found a feria and dancing locals. I was obsessed the crunchy, fried chick peas, black beans, maize, and plantains that I purchased in haste as a bus snack. Then we sprinted back and barely made the bus.