After my long cold climb to La Cumbre I figured that I would be able to tackle most of the roads around La Paz without too much problem.I would,however have to do some further altitude training before riding over 4500meters again.I even began to think that running might even be possible and boldly stode out of the hostel the next morning to begin my run training.Now those who know me are well aware of my lack of enthusiasm toward all things pedestrian(in the athletic sense that is)and that my usual yearly run training totals about ten hours.So to try to run in downtown La Paz was quite the heroic thing for me to do.It took about ten minutes to go from hero to zero!Seems I forgot to mention to the one million or so inhabitants of Bolivias capital that I would be needing the sidewalks for my athletic pleasure that morning.Either that or they all decided that it would be fun to watch a stupid, lycra-clad gringo try to manage more than a shuffle during the busy pre-work rush.I haven't done that much side-stepping since my rugby days at boarding school and it seems my intimidation factor hasn't changed since then.My next brilliant move was to step off the curb out of harms way and try to run in the gutter against the traffic.Fantastic!Now it was like a scene from a Jackie Chan movie,doing my own stunts and everything.I do think that running headlong into a La Paz rush hour might actually be easier than driving with the traffic.At least I could jump the curb any time I liked to negotiate the chaos.I needed to get away from the automotive stampede and upon spying a patch of greenery up a side street turned off the main drag and found myself trotting around a very nice park with a network of walking trails heading off in all directions.I remembered seeing this park on my trusty city map and ran up a small hill toward one of the many lookouts I'd marked as "must do" spots to visit.Now I was cooking,I'd get a morning run in as well as some sightseeing.Brilliant!What a grand way to start the day-or not!My first new worry was that of all the paths I could have chosen,mine ran right by the local homeless persons hangout.If Bolivia is one of Sth America's poorest countries then imagine just how bad life must be for the homeless people here.I had no intention of finding out how much they disliked gringos' and did the first of my two speed sessions of the day,right through their lovely outdoor,sidewalk toilet.Having managed dodge the assorted "personal deposits" left for all to appreciate I ran up toward the lookout only to be stopped by two very grumpy,sleepy-eyed security gaurds who told me that the path was closed for rapairs and that I would have to leave the way I came.Back down the hill I went and prepared myself for my second speed session of the day and my final one in La Paz.Having negotiated the park I turned toward home and began the long,steady climb back to my hostel.By now the traffic had increased to epic proportions and was happily filling the atmosphere with the kind of thick fumes that only third rate petroleum can provide.I will state though that I did run all the way back and managed to make it a solid run and vowed to rethink the timing of any future running adventure.I did have the forethought to time my runs end with the lovely pancake breakfast that the hostel provides each day.All the pancake and coffee I could take with a not so warm (but cosy)bed for only $5U.S a night.Awesome!!The looks I got from the assembled backpackers made appreciate my little adventure even more as most of them could barely focus through the haze of an Andean hangover.I decided to really rub it in and be one of those really annoying "morning people" that every self respecting nightclub-crawler hates.Too much fun for me!Those mornings over pancakes were really cool for the most part as it was really the only time that you could meet all the new people checking in as well as farewelling those who were heading off in search of new adventures.I generally was the first to arrive at around 7am and was the last to leave at around 9.This gave me the chance to not only find out all there was to know about travlelling in Sth America from all the backpackers but to get to know the locals who staffed the hostel.More often than not,as the days went on, I was called into service to help translate for the more linguistically challenged of those checking in.It is quite funny thinking back that I,a guy who can't really speak Spanish fluently,was translating for a guy who could hardly speak English.Buy the time I told him what the guest wanted in what I thought comprehensible Spanish he would then confirm it with me in his very incomprehensible English.It's a wonder that anyone got a bed for the night.It was over breakfast that the days plans would be made.Generally,those that hadn't gone on some sort of tour for the day would hook up make a day of it touring the city on foot.I had some favourite places to go and had the pleasure of showing more than a few people the sights of downtown La Paz.If I felt like going off and hiding,I would wander down to my favourite coffee-shop next to the huge San Francisco Cathedral that dominates the market section of the city.There I would eat really nice western style food at super cheap prices and read or write as the world passed by.There is something very special about being on the road in a place like Bolivia.There is an unspoken comraderie that permeates the backpacker culture like no other.If I were to sit in a coffee-shop in most western cities my presence would go largely unnoticed and my life of little interest to those around.Here though,everyone is bound by the grand experiences of life and is so willing to share a part of themselves with anyone who happens to glance thier way .I think it is a beautiful thing to witness but sadly is witnessed by so few.I soon fell into the daily routine of getting up in the cold hours of the morning and trying to get in as much training as possible before the city woke up and riding became a nightmare.One easy option was to do a series of long 5k(3mile) hill repeats on the highway heading up and out of town towards El Alto.I would start climbing as soon as I stepped out of the hostel and had to use the first of my half dozen repeats as a warm up.The first few would generally go quite well from a traffic standpiont but the as each climb took me another 500meters skyward none of them were easy.I would try to hang on and complete my half dozen trips up the hill but more often than not the increasing fumes,not to mention the stench from the heavily polluted river by the side of the road,would make me retreat to the comfort of the hostel and my morning pancake session.My favourite ride became the trip down to the Zona Sur or southern zone of La Paz.Here is where the elite of La Paz live and also where the streets are a little less chaotic(a little).The trick with this ride is to leave early thus beating the traffic and spend an easy 35minutes gliding through the cobbled streets ever downward toward, 500 vertical meters to the southern exit of the city.There was that damn river to follow but I will admit the smell bothered me less and less each time.Passing through Zona Sur it is easy to see how to some,living in La Paz would be like being in an oasis.There are shopping malls with all the western conveniences,social and sporting clubs to rival any found in L.A and very nice,clean suburbs to live in.The fact that most of this wealth came from the cocain trade wasn't lost on me as I noticed that propotionately,the number of heavily armed troops had grown substantially since entering this area.They were a friendly bunch though and were very helpful in showing this eternally lost gringo his way.Continuing through the last of La Paz' suburbs the scenery went from densely populated to barren and it was a joy to ride the undulating road through the badlands of La Paz.The weekends were the best time to make the trip south as it gave me the opportunity to hook up with the many local cyclists that used this route for training.There was always a really funny look on the faces of every cyclist I passed as they tried to figure out just who this speedy gringo on the dirty mountain bike was.I liked this trip as it gave me the opportunity to check out a few sights that the other backpackers had to join a tour to see.Firstly there was the La Paz Zoo,surely the highest zoo in the world,full of very bored looking animals from all over the world.Secondly there was the La Paz Golf Club,definately the highest golf course in the world and then there was the "Valley of the Moon" which begins at the golf course and descends dramatically toward the great,snowcapped Mt Illimani.The soil that makes up the whole of the La Paz area is mostly a red or grey clay and due to the extreme weather here is eroded at every wet season that strikes each summer.I would hate to see just how dangerous it must be to live around here when the rain comes but I'm told that due to the steep nature of the La Paz basin that landslides are commonplace and the streets run like wild rivers at times.The funny thing about that is that above La Paz at 5400meters is the worlds highest ski hill.This ski hill only operates in summer ,of all times, as thats the only time it rains, or should I say snows , in the region.The wintertime, which I was experiencing, was too dry to snow and so the ski hill shuts down and all the summer sports like golf and mountain bikeing start.Pretty wierd I thought!The Valley of the Moon gets it's name from the bleak clay formations caused by the summer rains.There is no greenery to speak of and the soft grey soil is molded into strange and wonderful shapes that change with each wet season.Deep caverns are adorned with towering spires of fragile clay perched on the edges of crumbling cliffs.As the clay dries over the dry season the wind then carves sharp edges to each spire creating a spooky lunar feel.One could imagine pre-historic mammals roaming through the valley on thier way to the fertile plains beyond.Then again maybe I've just lost my mind due to oxygen debt.I spent many an hour riding through these bad-lands and loved every minute of it.Getting back home,however was a different story.From the Valley of the Moon back to Zona Sur was about a 90 minute uphill,undulating ride.From there,once the traffic started,the easy 35min descent turned into another 90 minute or so uphill grind with the worst part being the dreaded switchbacks that took me back to the center of town.This climb was one of those character building experiences were all you want to do was slow down or stop so the pain would end.The problem was once you were in your smallest gear you can't slow down otherwise you fall over and to stop means not starting again!Thrown in the increased pollution and you get a really big bang for your athletic buck.Not to worry though as the weekend markets in the city center almost made the whole thing worth it.The city shuts down about four city blocks in central La Paz every Sunday and half the population turns up to check out the markets and dance to the bands playing on the central stage.It was always way too much fun to see the expression on the faces of the children as I rode through the crowded streets.Generally I was absolutely filthy by this stage of my ride,covered in clay dust dried hard to my clothes by the sweat of my efforts.I wore black,full length tights and arm warmers,a dirty bike jersey of unrecognizeable colour,black gloves,my helmet and really funky aviator style goggles that I'd bought for $3 at the local markets.In short the only exposed part of my body was my nose and lips so i must have looked a scary sight to most of the kids in town.I never once got hassled on my trip and I don't know if it was bacause of my look or the fact that the bike jersey I wore had had printed on it "Trinity Cycles"(from my mates bike shop in Cairns).You see, in a very strict Roman Catholic continent like Sth America the holy trinity means a lot so I figure they all thought I might be some strange travelling holy man and thought it best to leave me alone.I didn't work that out 'til I took my bike off the train in Ororu three weeks before and some guy pointed at my shirt and started calling out "Trinity,Trinity,Christos"That was really wierd!!!There were many strange things like that happenning regularly and I made every effort not to make light of the wonderful experience that I was having in this remarkable part of our planet.It tended to overwhelm me every now and then,not because the adventure was too rich for me but the fact that even though I had lots of people at the hostel to talk to about my days,I had nobody to share them with.It is very easy to become lonley in a crowd and so I began to dream,as my health started to fade,of friends in another part of the world.
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