Intro
Today was supposed to be a rest day, but La Paz doesn’t really do ‘rest.’ At 10:26, under a clear sky and a crisp 15.6°C, I traded the saddle for my walking shoes to navigate the steep, paved arteries of the city center. The morning mood was steady, though the thin air at this altitude makes even a casual stroll feel like a Category 4 climb.
Potions and Penitentiaries
- The day began with a series of failed errands. I tried to grab my laundry and pick up my new glasses, but La Paz operates on its own clock; the shops were shuttered. I needed toget a new ‘estuche’ (case), but that would have to wait. By 10:00, the temperature had climbed to 17.6°C, and I joined a walking tour from plaza Sucre. The guide pointed out the mirrors on the church San Francis walls—historical tools used to lure indigenous people into the pews—before leading us into the Witches Market.
- The market is a sensory overload. I reached out and brushed my fingers against the texture of a dried llama fetus hanging from a stall—it felt like sandpaper-dry parchment, a brittle relic used in Aymara rituals to bless new homes. Nearby, plastic bottles of ‘obedient male’ potions sat next to penis-shaped candles and candy offerings. We also stopped outside the San Pedro Prison. It looks like a standard colonial building from the outside, but the guide explained its internal capitalist engine. There are no guards inside; inmates buy their own cells, run restaurants, and even operated cocaine labs in the courtyards for years. It’s a self-governed city within a city, right next to a public plaza.
The Real Estate of San Pedro
- After a lunch of Plato Paceño—a heavy spread of choclo, native potatoes, fried cheese, and broad beans—I finally secured my glasses and booked the ‘Size Matters’ ride for Saturday. While walking toward the Chino district, I met a local named Martin. He saw me eyeing a bike shop and struck up a conversation. Martin had recently been released from San Pedro Prison, and as we walked, he gave me a far more granular view of the place than any tour guide could. He explained how the ‘real estate’ works inside—how you have to pay rent to other inmates just to have a spot on the floor.
- We stopped at a street vendor where the smell of warm, yeasty Llaucha bread filled the air. I bought a few pieces and shared them with him on a park bench. Between bites of the cheese-filled dough, he pointed out bags of ‘Sultanas’—the dried skin of coffee beans used for tea—and ‘Chuños,’ those freeze-dried black potatoes that look like river stones. We swapped numbers, a small bridge built over a shared snack, before I headed back to the hostel to prep for the evening.
Neon Lights and Flying Polleras
- At 16:00, I grabbed my winter jacket and headed for the Teleférico. I met Herman, who owns the lodge back in Tiquina, and we took the cable car up to El Alto. The view of the city basin was clear, the sky still a sharp blue, though the wind was picking up. We reached the ‘Cholet Ratchet,’ a building that looks like a psychedelic Transformer. This is Neo-Andean architecture: all mirrored glass, neon lights, and Tiwanaku geometric patterns. We sat on an indoor balcony overlooking a wrestling ring.
- The highlight was the Cholita wrestling. These women compete in full traditional dress—multi-layered pleated skirts called polleras, embroidered shawls, and bowler hats. The sound of the match was rhythmic: the sharp crack of a body hitting the mat followed by the rustle of heavy fabric. In the final fight, a Cholita leaped from the very balcony where I was sitting, flying through the air to tackle an unfair referee. It was chaotic and scripted, yet physically impressive. We ended the night over a plate of Pique Macho—a mountain of beef, sausages, and peppers—that was so large we couldn’t see the table beneath it. I finally rolled back into the hostel at 22:30, exhausted by a day where I didn’t even touch my pedals.
Overnight
I’m staying at the Hostel Saint Peters Llama. It’s centrally located and has a social atmosphere that makes it hard to leave; I’ve already extended my stay twice.
Reflection
A city’s internal logic is rarely visible from the seat of a moving bicycle; sometimes you have to park the bike and buy someone a piece of bread to understand how the gears actually turn.
Route summary
- Date: 2026-10-13
- Distance: 2.35 km
- Elevation gain: 49 m
- Elevation loss: 60 m
- Duration: 2 h 1 min
- Time in Motion: 33 min
- Average Speed: 4.3 km/h