With a belly full of Immodium (and anything else that I had not squirted out in the last ten minutes) we boarded the overnight train from Uyuni to Oruro, from which it's a further 3 hours bus ride to the Bolivain capital, La Paz. By now the group consisted of just Natalia, Fiona and myself, the other guys were headed in separate directions. Bolivian trains are OK, we paid an extra $5 for the 'executive class', I'm not sure I could have slept in the cheap seats.

Arrival in La Paz takes your breath away, quite literally. At 3360m the air is thin, which makes walking about quite difficult, especially with a heavy backpack and only a faint idea of where you are actually going. Still, the drive in was quite a sight, the city is strung out along a deep valley with Pueblos to the top and the commercial centre at the bottom, and the majestic snow capped Mount Illmani supplies a superb backdrop. I said goodbye to the girls and walked up to the Witches Market area, intent on bagging a private room with bathroom so I could see out my remaining illness in peace. The following day was spent in the room or not far from it, but by the second day I had recuperated enough to start exploring the city.

Now I had originally planned and spending a couple of weeks in the area due to the excellent hiking and activities available, but after speaking to a couple of local travel agents it was clear that I was here too early in the season. The rains had just finished, making trails and roads trecherous and to top it off there had been an outbreak of Dengue Fever in the mosquito infeasted lowlands. Never mind, plenty of opportunties for those activities when I get to Peru!

I received a message from Carolyn, whom I had met in Barriloche, and she was in town with her brother Steve. We met in the afternoon and spent a few hours exploring the Mercardo Negro (Black Market) area where you can buy everything from dried llama fetouses to Manchester United football shirts. Carolyn and Steve had cycled 'The World's Most Dangerous Road' the day before and I took their recommendation and booked with a tour group for the following day.

The Worlds Most Dangerous Road runs from La Cumbra (just outside La Paz) to Coroico, a descent of 3000 + meters along a gravelly path no wider than a bus. There's cliffs to your left with vertical drops of up to 600 meters. The Yunga valley is also increadibly beautiful, but careful not to take those eyes off the road! According to the sign and the start of the road, 43 people had died on the road in the last 12 months, and our American guide took great pleasure in pointing out the places where people (sometimes bus loads) had plunged to their deaths. Most outrageously was the story of the girl who got off the wrong side of her bike and promptly met her maker, oh dear! Still, the bikes were really good and safety was obviously the primary concern so it didn't feel that dangerous. I'm sure there are just as bad roads elsewhere in the world, but again it's those careless, drunken Bolivian drivers that make this the worst!

Having returned from the cycle trip I headed to the hostel over the road from mine, the Irish owned Wild Rover. It was St Patrick's day and I had recovered from the illness and was reaady for a drink in my tolken green T Shirt I picked up the day before. The place was a mess, some folk had been drinking since breakfast time, but I met a few people and stayed unitl the bar shut at 01.00.

The following day was to be a highlight, a visit to San Pedro prison for the contraversial and unofficial tour of the facility. The prison itself is slap bang in the middle of the city, so I headed over and hung around to see what was going down. The prison itself has no guards inside, the inmates police themselves and the only thing that matters is how much money you have got or can generate. I hung around wuth a couple of Irish guys who had the same idea until we were approached by a South African in his 50's who is a former inmate. Alas, there was to be no tours today as at TV crew had filmed a load of gringo's leaving the prison the night before and it had been on national TV. So no tours until the heat dies down and I was leaving the day after so that was that.

My final night in La Paz was spént with Carolyn, Steve and a couple of their friends, in Jackie Chan's chinese restaurant. The following morning I took a taxi to the infamously dodgy Cemetary area, where the buses to Copacabana / Lake Titicaca leave. So all in all I didn't quite get to do what I wanted in La Paz, but it sure ain't no Buenos Aires!