We arrive after a long flight on the Altiplano. First impression - a sprawl of red brick buildings. After the immigration procedures (lots of papers to fill in) and the high military presence, which seems to be the case across SA, we finally make it through. They always seem to take a little longer with my passport, which makes me even more nervous, while I stand there with a beating heart and a fixed smile. Waiting in line to get our baggage tags checked we strike up a conversation with a Chilean. I had noticed him already on our stop-over in Iquique. He looked like an interesting character and the fact that he was travelling with a massive Nikon bag, made us wonder whether he was a photographer or travel writer. After a few camera-related exchanges and exclamations of joy about Nikon between the men (I just dutifully nod and smile), we find out that he is a hobby-photographer and will be staying in La Paz some time before heading to Cusco. With a cheerful 'adios' we part ways.

An onslaught of taxi drivers greats us as we walk out of the building. Ah, but this time we think, we will haggle and not go with the first one. And so we manage to get the price down. Afterwards I do feel a bit guilty about this as the taxi driver turns out to be really nice. He speaks excellent English and really clear and slow Spanish, so we can actually have a conversation. The drive into La Paz from the Altiplano is as spectacular as promised in the travel guide. There it lies stretching from valley ridge to valley ridge mostly redbrick lego blocks surrounded by mountains and the snow-capped Illimani (6438 m) visible in the distance. We had met a French-Canadian couple in BA, who had told us about their experiences in La Paz, but stepping out of the taxi I am stunned by the beautiful people and the hustle and bustle.

We manage to check into our hostel and collapse onto the bed. We are both not feeling well, although I initially put this down to the long day and three flights. For ease we decide to eat in the hostel restaurant, however as we wait for the food, Chris starts to feel worse and so we head back to the room. 'Soroche' (altitude sickness) has hit. I don't think we quite appreciated the effect flying from sea level to 3600 meters would have on us. Not much sleep is had that night (at least by me - Chris has crashed out) as a fiesta with brass band and fireworks takes place in the road below our hostel. At 02.00 in the morning I finally get up to see what's going on and one of the guys from the hostel kindly takes me outside. Sadly at this stage the procession has broken up. I can make out some costumes and hear the brass band carrying on further down the road but for the most part, as my guide informs me, everyone is already drunk. It doesn't help that I forgot to put on my glasses and bring my camera so I head back to bed.

The next day Chris has recovered a bit. We both dutifully drink the coca tea, which the hostel has made available and which seems to help. We also decide to extend our stay by a day in order to acclimatise. La Paz is not necessarily a beautiful city but it is a feast for the eyes. As I write this from Cusco and am able to compare the two, I realise how lucky we were to have experienced it and what a shame it is that we didn't stay longer. It felt like we had arrived in South America.

There are of course signs that tourism has arrived, several outdoor shops and a whole road selling tourist goods but amongst this the local life seems to be carrying on as before. Fruitsellers and stalls with large mounds of nuts and corn/maize line the street. On the witches market you can buy anything from herbs and charms to llama foetuses. Many Bolivians also still seem to be wearing traditional dress, and not for tourism purposes. There is clearly a lot of poverty but despite this everyone we dealt with was so much more friendly than in the last two cities. One last word about the traffic. There are no traffic lights anyhwere. Right of way seems to be sorted out by hooting, which leads to more hooting, and general chaos.

We also bump into our Chilean photographer friend, who shows us some of the beautiful pictures of Bolivian faces he has taken.

Soroche still affects us both with headaches and getting really winded just walking up a small hill or stairs. It feels as if your body has extra weights attached to it. And so we leave La Paz on a bus for Cusco via Titicaca. *Steph

Hier moechte ich auch noch mal ein Dankeschoen los werden. All die lieben Sachen, ob Faltteller/tassen, Schlafsackeinlagen, Adapterstecker und Seifenblaetter, es wurde alles schon gebraucht!