Joining the Parade and Going to Prison

Hola todos!

Gosh it's been a while, hasn't it? Well, I've actually been in La Paz, Bolivia this whole time. I've had ups and downs in terms of both my enthusiasm while being here, and the intensity of my experiences. As far as the latter goes, I'll save the most intense for last.

I was definitely sad to leave Peru. I'd met some truly heartwarming people there, and had some incredible experiences. I couldn't help feeling a bit singled out at the Bolivian border, as I was the only one on my whole bus full of people that needed to apply for a Visa to enter the country. "Algun de los Estados Unidos?" they asked, "Anyone from the United States?" But I'd already been talked into it by my friends - some travellers, and some at home. And after a brief stop-over in the unimpressive Copacabana, we came onto the hill looking down into La Paz - an incredible panorama which I was disappointed our bus driver wouldn't stop for us to take pictures of. Built into a canyon, an astonishing mess of buildings fill the center and then climb up the canyon on both sides. Until they really do succeed in freeing Tibet, La Paz is the highest capital city in the world.

My first impression walking the bustling streets was that people might not be as friendly in Bolivia as in Peru. People often wouldn't respond to me when I tried to greet them walking by, and there weren't any groups of high school girls running up to me to ask me to take pictures with them. But as someone pointed out to me big cities can serve to rob people of some of their charm. I think if the only South American city I'd seen before this one had been Lima, I wouldn't have had much of a reaction. And of course, maybe the people are just different. Still, I was finding it a bit difficult to make friends in the local community.

My first success was amusing really. I was in an internet cafe, and saw a Bolivian guy playing a video game called Defense of the Ancients that I used to play. I started talking to him, and he said that him and a bunch of other guys would be playing that night and that I should come back. I did, and we ended up playing this game til 2 in the morning!

The weekend approached, however, and my new gamer pals wouldn't be playing games, so I tried another avenue of meeting the locals. A traveller friend of mine has been trying to get me to try Couchsurfing - a worldwide networking site where travellers "surf couches" as is the premise, and locals offer them up because they want to meet people from different cultures, or introduce them to their own. Often this takes the form of just meeting up, rather than the hosting of a couch. I sent out some messages to some La Paz locals, and it wasn't long before I got a response. This Bolivian woman, named Flavia, was planning on going to a local rock concert Friday night with a couple other foreigners, and invited me to come. We stopped for dinner together, and then afterwards made our way to the concert. Along the way, however, we lost a girl from Britain named Anna after she stopped to use her phone, and then mistakenly ran after us in the wrong direction. Flavia was a bit worried about her since it was dark and she didn't know her way around the city. So Flavia went and got a couple nearby police officers and we looked for Anna. When we finally did find her, she was upset because some guy had stolen her phone. We walked around the area with the police officers looking for the culprit, but to no avail. We went to the concert anyways and tried to put the whole incident behind us. At the concert, I met some of Flavia's friends, and we had a great time dancing together to the La Paz band "Atajo" who were fairly decent. Really though, it was nice just to be with some Bolivians doing something Bolivian - even if it had been a bit of a crazy night.

The next cultural experience began on a different day when I heard the sounds of a parade in the distance and felt compelled to follow them. I came upon the group of musicians and costumed dancers during their break, and asked them what the parade was about. I worked out that it was a celebration for Saint Barbara. Good enough for me. Being someone that enjoys a good bit of music and dancing, I asked them if I could join in when they continued. They were very enthusiastic, and paired me up with a large, older Bolivian woman in a bowler hat. The next thing I knew, I was dancing down the street arm in arm with two older Bolivian women in bowler hats in the center of a parade with a full brass band behind us! A few onlookers seemed surprised to see a white guy smack dab in the middle of the whole thing, but we marched onwards. Down one street, down another, all through town. We'd stop every now and then for some food and drink, which they graciously insisted I partake of. This was entertaining for a while, until I realized I didn't really know when this parade would end, and was supposed to meet some friends from Canada who were coming into town that afternoon. And here I was locked arms with these enthusiastic women in bowler hats. Finally we stopped to take a break inside a courtyard, but I was still pinned in, and they insisted I eat more food even though I was starting to get pretty stuffed. What was worse, a group of these women in bowler hats started hitting on me shamelessly! After one of them asked me if I had a woman back in the States, and I answered honestly that I did not, they each started making cases for why I should take them as a wife. I said that I was travelling right now, and just didn't think it would work out, but they continued until we started marching again. Further down the road, we stopped again, and I said that I needed to go. Finally, my dancing partner let me go. She stopped for a second and said "Que triste, eh?" in a sad sort of way. After walking away I'd feel bad. In such a short time they'd completely opened their culture and their hearts to me, and all I could think about was getting away. Such is the way of the traveler sometimes, I suppose.

I wouldn't have any more such experiences for a while, as my two Canadian friends had arrived, and I'd spend a couple days hanging around the city with them. Another group of my friends who I'd met travelling in Peru arrived subsequently, and so I'd spend more time walking around the city, and going to pubs and restaurants. I wasn't very interested in many of the expensive touristy things that my friends wanted to do, and so I let them go do things without me. I'd reached the point of the journey where things just didn't seem to interest me. Climb a mountain? Nah, I just did that. Go on a downhill bike ride? Nah, been there, done that. What would I like to do? I don't know. After a short time, I started getting a little tired of this routine, as I shared with some of my friends back home. I realized just how many good friends I had, when many of them sent me emails back encouraging me, and let me know they were praying for me daily.

Soon afterwards, one expensive touristy opportunity came my way which for some reason just seemed like the right thing to do. And this was interesting considering the opportunity: an illegal prison tour through the San Pedro prison led by prisoners. Unlike the bike rides, and the mountain climbs, this one was geared up to be a truly unique experience. The tour is rather widely discussed among the traveller circuit, and the prison made famous by Rusty Young's stunning account of it in the book Marching Powder. You'll understand a bit about what's so interesting about this place once I've told you about it, so I'm getting on with it:

I didn't need to make very many preparations. The price of entry (which is essentially a bribe to the police to let you in) has been well circulated - 250 Bolivianos or about $35 US dollars. The only other thing that I'd bring with me would be four Spanish testaments (Bibles) which my parents had given me at the start of my trip. Oh, and I also prayed.

A few of my friends were also interested in the prison tour, and so together we set off walking towards the prison. Shortly after we arrived in the vicinity, we were approached by someone about being led inside. Once inside, there was a woman to explain to us how the tour would work, and tell us about the rules regarding cameras. How the tour would work is we'd have a guide who is a prisoner, and a number of bodyguards (I think about 6) who were also prisoners. The rules for cameras is that you pay 15 Bolivianos to bring one in, the police don't want to see them, and the guide will tell you exactly when you can take them out and exactly what you can take pictures of.

This isn't a normal prison, and it's time I told a bit about why. There are no police inside, and there are no cells. The prison is divided into different sections in which the prisoners rent their cells from real estate agents. Some sections are much nicer than others, and are also more expensive to live in. Prisoners who can't afford to rent a space, sleep in a large outdoor section. Others who can only afford to pay a little, get slums. Rich drug lords live in luxury. There are a surprising amount of women and children inside. Apparently, when the husbands are arrested, they can't afford to make it on their own outside, and so they move into the prison with them. Inside there are also shops, restaurants, several different churches, a football (soccer) pitch where tournaments are held, craftsmen selling their wares, and all manner of things that you might find in a small city. And that's exactly the comparison that's made. The subcommunities that exist within the different sections of the prison function just like city districts.

If you're worried yet, let me remind you that I'm here writing this post, and tell you also that I feel I was called by God to enter this prison, and protected inside by the Same. I've already described much of what I learned and observed in my description above. We really were being led around by prisoners amongst prisoners, and I greeted many of them and shook some of their hands as a display that I wasn't there to judge them. All of these men came from much less fortunate circumstances than I, and the poor decisions that led them there are in many cases a testament to this reality. It was interesting to see how normal life was for some of them inside this very strange place, however. As we walked around the different sections of the prison, we observed a football (once again, Soccer) game. We saw men talking in a restaurant, and playing pool. Most of the men I greeted returned the greeting with considerable more warmth than I'd received outside the prison on the streets. And when we entered the Evangelical church, a group of inmates was there to play some worship songs for us. I found out that a couple of our bodyguards were actually Christians as well, and talked with them a good deal during the tour. When I mentioned the Spanish testaments, one of them suggested that I give them to him so that he could give them to people in the prison that needed them. It really seemed like almost nothing, but who knows what will happen with those 4 bibles. I just wish I had had more. As I would later tell one of my friends, I really felt like I connected more with the Christian community inside that Bolivian prison, than I had in all my travels with my generation of well-off, English speaking travellers from good homes around the world.

Our tour guide refused to take us inside the section with the rich drug lords, and said that section would truly be dangerous for us. Throughout the tour I didn't really ever feel like I was in danger, though, and there was only one situation which would make me uncomfortable. When the tour was over, we tipped our guide and bodyguards (this is how they made their living), and were led outside. Man did it feel good to be back outside.

I haven't felt anything like the slump I was in before visiting the prison, at any point after. I've enjoyed spending time with my friends. Three of us (myself included) took an unguided day trip today to a place outside of town called Valle de la Luna, which gets it's name for the lunar-like landscape that results from all the erosion that is there.

And after a long, and interesting stay in La Paz, we've got tickets to travel to a place called Uyuni tomorrow night where we are going to see the Bolivian salt flats, which are widely said to be absolutely amazing. Following that, I'll either make a stop in the city of Potosi to visit some mines, or make my way straight into San Pedro de Atacama, Chile.

Missing and loving all of you back home as always,
Stephen

PS: I didn't take any photos of either the parade or the prison!