CHAPTER XVII

LA PAZ, THE _DE FACTO_ CAPITAL OF BOLIVIA

It is a twelve hours’ run from Arequipa to the wharf at Puno where one takes the steamer across Lake Titicaca. The distance is only two hundred and eighteen miles, but there are fifteen or twenty stops, and there is no hurry.

Our train was mixed passenger and freight and one first-class coach was amply sufficient to accommodate everybody.

Shortly after ten o’clock, we stopped for breakfast at a primitive little railway inn, where, although we had good appetites and were accustomed to native fare, the food seemed exceptionally bad, and some of it was quite inedible. Whether it was the result of this or not, several of the passengers soon began to show signs of mountain sickness. Arequipa is 7500 feet above the sea, but Crucero Alto, a water tank station, which we reached about half past two, is 14,666 feet, so there was good excuse for any one who is at all affected by rarefied atmosphere.

The eastern edge of the plateau brought us to the two mountain lakes of Saracocha and Cachipascana. Although there was no green in the landscape, the snow-capped mountains that surround the lakes lent an atmosphere of romance and charm to the otherwise desolate view. Continuing eastward, the train went rapidly down grade for two thousand feet, stopping occasionally at little Indian villages until it reached the important railway junction of Juliaca. Here the passengers for Cuzco left us, and in the dusk we turned south and hurried over the remaining thirty miles of level road. On reaching the wharf at Puno, we found to our dismay that the steamer scheduled to cross Titicaca this evening was the Yavarí, the smallest and oldest on the lake, and the first steam vessel to be propelled at an altitude of 12,500 feet above sea-level. She had already received her full complement of freight, and her deck was covered with railway-ties brought from Oregon for the new Bolivia Railway System. It took but a few moments to get passengers and their luggage transferred from the train to the steamer, and before we realized it, we were plowing through the troubled waters of the highest large body of water in the world. The sky was beautifully clear and the stars shone with wonderful brightness, attracting us to spend the evening on deck, to the amazement of the natives who preferred to sit in the stuffy little dining saloon. It did not take us long to agree with them that it was too cold and damp to make the starlight very enjoyable.

Our slumbers were disturbed by a terrific thunder-storm that made the little Yavarí toss about like a cork. The rain descended in torrents and obliged us to close our porthole. Of course, it was not the first squall nor the worst that the stout little vessel had weathered, but out of consideration for her age, we had unpleasant dreams of swimming in the water of a lake which is so cold that none of the Indians who live on its banks and navigate their crazy _balsas_ over its surface have ever learned how to swim.

We were up at daylight just in time to see the islands of Titicaca and Koati and the promontory of Copacavana, the old centre of civilization on the plateau. It is still the scene of many quaint Indian festivals. The ancient terraces are still used in slow rotation for raising crops. We passed quite close to the peninsula of Taraco which abuts from the eastern shore and is thickly populated. In fact, so far as we could see, all the valuable lands on the shores of the lake were cultivated to the limit.

Mr. Bandelier says there are probably more Indians here now than there were in the days before the Conquest, all the sentimentalists to the contrary notwithstanding.

The atmosphere was wonderfully clear, and with the aid of glasses, we could see people miles away going in and out of picturesque little churches, driving their cattle to pasture, tending crops, and working on the primitive threshing-floors where donkeys and oxen were treading out the barley. Occasionally the effect was heightened by a mirage that raised the shores up from the lake and enabled us to see new towns and villages. Far in the distance snow-covered mountains added to the charm of the scene.

On the marshy shores the fisherfolk began to embark in their _balsas_, those curious canoes, made of bundles of reeds tied together, quite comfortable when new but most disagreeable when water-logged. At one time we were able to count forty of them dotting the waters of the lake. Not less interesting was a species of wild duck or diver that amused us by swimming directly in the path of the steamer, then becoming suddenly frightened, and with the aid of its wings, running over the surface of the water with incredible swiftness.

Numerous as have been the travellers that have crossed the lake, and easy as it is of access, still Mr. Bandelier is able to write: “Lake Titicaca in most of its features is as unknown as the least visited of the inner African lakes. The shores are so indented and their topography is so complicated, that a coasting voyage of a year at least would be needed to achieve a complete investigation.”

There is only a narrow channel between the peninsula of Copacavana on the west and that of San Pedro on the east so that after one passes through the narrow straits of Tiquina, one loses sight of the great expanse of Titicaca and is in reality in a small lake at its southern end. It took us several hours to cross this, however, and it was noon before we entered the little artificial harbor of Guaqui. The only lake traffic that pays is freight and the boats run frequently, but irregularly, starting as soon as their loading of cargo is completed. One reads in the guide-books that they have a regular schedule. The natives say that you can never tell when the steamers will sail. As a matter of fact, it is usually possible to find out a day or two ahead from the railroad officials the hour and date of sailing.

Soon after our arrival the daily train started. The first stop was at the famous town of Tiahuanaco. We could see enough of the wonderful ruins from the train to arouse the greatest curiosity, which a few boys increased by trying to sell us trinkets which had possibly been dug up in the vicinity.

Beyond Tiahuanaco the country, part of the great tableland of Bolivia, is covered with loose stone and an occasional low shrub. Not a single tree breaks the monotony. Trees are rarely seen anywhere on this plateau. A three hours’ run over the level plains brought us to Alto de La Paz.

My impressions of the approach to La Paz were so much like those of our old friend Edmund Temple who came here from Potosí in 1828, that I shall quote in full his quaint and vivid description. “After travelling twelve, thirteen, and, as I imagined, every mile of the distance from Ventilla to La Paz, my astonishment was excited by not perceiving on so level a plain any object indicating the existence of a town. Sundry groups of Indians, droves of mules, llamas, and asses, some unladen, some with burdens, were indeed to be seen passing and repassing, as in the bustle of business, but no buildings or habitation whatever; no turret, dome, or steeple of church or convent appeared in view, although the tolling of their bells occasionally struck faintly on the ear. Huge, barren, weather-beaten rocks, and snow-covered mountains, apparently close at hand, rose directly before me, and presented an impassable barrier.

“I could not perceive where I was to find a town; and, as I rode onwards in strange perplexity, endeavoring to solve the enigma, I arrived suddenly at the verge of an abrupt and prodigious precipice, at the

bottom of which I beheld, in diminutive perspective, the large and populous city of La Paz.... Through this fairy town may be faintly seen, winding with occasional interruptions, a silver thread marked with specks of frothy white, which, upon approaching, proves to be a mountain-torrent, leaping from rock to rock, and sweeping through the valley. In casting a glance farther round, you perceive squares and patches of every shade of green and yellow, which, to a European, is perhaps the most striking part of the interesting scene. Corn, and fruit, and vegetables, and crops of every kind, may be seen in all their stages, from the act of sowing to that of gathering them in; here, a field of barley luxuriantly green; there, another in full maturity, which the Indians are busily reaping; next to it, a crop just appearing above the ground. Farther on, another arrived at half its growth; beyond it, a man guiding a pair of oxen yoked to a shapeless stick, the point of which scratches the earth sufficiently for the reception of the seed which another man is scattering in the furrows; trees bearing fruit and at the same time putting forth buds and blossoms complete the scene of luxuriance.... Yet it requires only to raise the eyes from the lap of this fruitful Eden to behold the widest contrast in the realms of Nature. Naked and arid rocks rise in mural precipices around; high above these, mountains beaten by furious tempests, frown in all the bleakness of sterility; higher still, the tops of others, reposing in the region of eternal snow, glisten uninfluenced in the presence of a tropical sun.

“I stopped for some minutes on the verge of the precipice to look upon a scene so wonderfully strange; indeed, my horse, of his own accord, made the first pause, and with outstretched neck, ears advanced, and frequent snorting, showed that he was not unaware of the abyss beneath, and seemed to inquire how it was to be descended, for the road, in a sudden turn, winding round the face of the precipice, is at first completely concealed from view; and, although it appeared as if I could have ‘thrown a biscuit’ into the town from the heights where I first discovered it, a short league is the calculated distance, and full three quarters of an hour were occupied in descending, before I entered the suburbs. Here, again, I was surprised to find that the town, which, from the height I had just left, appeared to be on a flat, was in reality built upon hills, and that some of the streets were extremely steep, which circumstance alone must convey a tolerable idea of the depth of the valley in which the city of La Paz is situated.”

The only change since the days of Temple, whose graphic pencil has so ably described the scene, is that a well-built electric railroad winds down the face of the western cliff into the town. At the time of his visit he was obliged to go from _tambo_ to _tambo_ in search of a lodging but found them all so full that there was no place for him. It gave him the opportunity of putting to test those often proffered services and complimentary generosities of the South American. Addressing the first decent-looking person he passed, he made inquiry who was the owner of a large and respectable mansion near by. On learning that it belonged to a worthy and excellent man, he determined to present himself and ask for lodgings. At first he was rather brusquely received by the lady of the house, who “stood for some time like a pillar of salt to my politely-studied address”; but he explained his predicament and was soon given a kind and affable reception.

Fortunately, we were not obliged to experiment upon the proverbial Bolivian hospitality, but were met at the station by kind friends, representatives of W. R. Grace & Co., who did everything in their power to add to the debt of gratitude which I had owed their house ever since I started on my journey. Comfortable quarters were found for us in the Sucursal, a huge, modern, three-story building intended for a convent, but now used as the annex of the leading hotel. It was not long before we were exploring the streets and enjoying the sights of the most picturesque Indian city in Spanish-America.

There are, to be sure, the usual earmarks of a Latin-American capital: well-stocked warehouses owned by English, German, and American firms; native politicians, unmistakable, in frock coats and silk hats, who spend their time chatting around the benches of the principal plaza near the Government House; a telephone company with four hundred subscribers; fine residences on a shady alameda, owned and occupied by people of European descent; etc., etc. Nevertheless the general impression that one gets of La Paz is that it is an Indian city, quite distinct from any city seen anywhere else. Its Indians are not like the Quichuas of Cuzco and Potosí, or the Chibchas of Bogotá. They are Aymarás.

It is said that La Paz, with a population of sixty thousand people, has thirty thousand Aymarás who neither speak nor understand a word of Spanish. Judging by my experiences in the streets and in the market-place, the proportion of people who do not understand Spanish is considerably larger. I found very few, even of those who were most anxious to sell their goods, who could so much as count in Spanish.

The result of having such a large part of the population untouched by Spanish language or custom is to make the streets much more picturesque. The brilliant colors completely threw into the shade my impression of Potosí. Never have I seen such gay ponchos and such kaleidoscopic effects as in the La Paz market-place and the streets and squares near it.

The reason is not far to seek. In no other city of the Andes are the aborigines so powerful as here. La Paz owes its political supremacy, and its present possession of the President and Congress, to the fighting qualities of the Aymarás. They are a barbarous folk whose cupidity, low cunning, and savage cruelty is quite unlike their mild cousins the Quichuas. Pampered and befriended by the Government, made to feel their power and importance, they stalk unabashed through the streets of the city and take pleasure in carrying their savage tastes to an extreme. The natural result is to give the city an

atmosphere of barbaric glitter which is lacking elsewhere. In cities like Bogotá, Cuzco, and Potosí, although the Indians far outnumber the whites, the latter are so absolutely dominant, and the Indians so peaceable and humble, that there is an opportunity for ridicule to mitigate against the more picturesque features of Indian costume. But in La Paz few of the Spanish-speaking boys would dare to jeer at a stalwart Aymará carrier, no matter what garb he chose to wear.

In fact, the Aymará attitude is a striking example of the truth of Mr. Bryce’s dictum that “serfs, when they have attained a measure of independence, resent the inferiority, be it legal or social, to which they find themselves condemned. Discontent appears and social friction is intensified, not only because occasions for it grow more frequent, but because the temper of each race is more angry and suspicious.” We had noticed their insolent demeanor when we first met them in the village of Ocurí on the road from Sucre to Challapata. Poor Mr. Bandelier had many unpleasant experiences with them.

The streets of La Paz, picturesque at all times, are particularly so on Sunday, especially on Children’s Sunday. In 1909, that event came on January 24th, when we had been in La Paz nearly a week.

The fair held on that day was unusually interesting. From early morning until the middle of the afternoon, the plazas and streets were thronged with thousands of gaudily dressed Aymarás, bent on enjoying themselves, and purchasing toys and other trinkets of the hundreds of peddlers who displayed their wares in every inch of available space on the three principal plazas and the streets connecting them. While the characteristic feature of this fair is the number of toys that are offered for sale, and the miniature models of everything the Indians use and wear, the chance to sell all kinds of articles that appeal to Aymará taste is not lost sight of. Spread out on ponchos on the edge of the sidewalk and in the middle of the streets was pottery, large and small, useful and ornamental; tinware, woodenware, and crockery; dresses for women, girls, and dolls; ponchos of every grade and description, from the expensive vicuña, worth forty dollars, to the cheapest kind of llama, worth only two or three; musical instruments: little guitars with bodies made of the hard shell armor of the Bolivian armadillo,[2] Aymará flutes and flageolets of bamboo, drums and horns made in Germany; and dolls made in France; in fact, everything that one can think of that would appeal to the Indian and at the same time be within the possibilities of his pocket-book.

The proper thing to do, and the one that seemed to appeal most to the half-tipsy Aymará porter that had saved up a few _pesos_ from the rewards of his labor, was to purchase a fat little doll eight or ten inches high, made in the form of a humpbacked clown, buy gaudy clothes for it, and then load it down with tiny models of brandy bottles, coca wallets, and _chicha_ jugs, in short everything it might be supposed to desire. The result was not unlike a heavily laden Santa Claus, although the face of the manikin, instead of being like our genial old saint, was that of a hideous, debauched vagabond.

The most interesting things that were offered for sale were little plaster models of Aymará types; a carrier or porter with a red knitted cap and a bit of rope in his hand, on the run to get his load; a woman seated on the ground before a miniature loom on which she had begun to make a bright-colored poncho; a _chola_ with her white straw hat, yellow fringed shawl, jewelled neck, close-fitting bodice, gaudy petticoats, and high-heeled French boots. Besides there were rudely made little rag and wooden dolls, clad in characteristic native costumes; clay models of llamas, cows, birds, and mythical animals; little balsas fifteen inches long but resembling in every particular the craft of Lake Titicaca; small packages of coca leaves done up in burlap exactly like the bundles that the burros bring across the Andes from the warm valleys to the eastward; little copper kettles from Coracora; tiny clay models of cooking utensils, water-jugs, and little rawhide sandals scarcely more than an inch in length, faithful imitations of the clumsy Aymará footwear.

One of the smaller plazas was given over almost entirely to games of chance. The favorite variety consisted of a form of dice. Instead of being marked with the usual aces and deuces, the dice were covered with grotesque figures. Each outfit had a different set, but nearly always one face bore the representation of a drunken man, another that of a devil with forked tail and horns, and a third the effigy of the sun. The others frequently carried pictures of wild animals such as lions, tigers, or jaguars. As three dice were cast at a time, it was possible to win three for one, provided all came up the same way, and you had staked your money on the lucky figure. The gambling booths were well thronged. Most of the betting was done with _reals_, a nickel coin worth about four cents. On the pavement in the middle of this plaza a number of games of lotto were going on, a game which I used to play in my childhood when anything connected with gambling was strictly forbidden. The La Paz game was played as usual with discs and cards. Instead of numbers as in our game, each disc had a gaudily painted picture on it, and each card several pictures and lines. The discs were drawn from a greasy calico bag by an Indian boy, who called out the name of the figure in a droning voice, and the corresponding grotesque picture on the cards was then covered. The player who first covered all the pictures on his card won the pool, less the bank’s percentage. I should have liked to join the game, but as it was conducted entirely in Aymará, I found it a little too difficult to learn the names of the different men and animals that figured on the cards.

Another game of chance that attracted a dense crowd consisted in selling ten numbers at a _real_ apiece. If your number was drawn, you won five _reals_ and the bank got the other five. The only novel feature of the game was the way in which the drawing was made. At the top of a little pole, five feet high, were ten wooden arms radiating from it like the spokes of a wheel. From the end of each hung a little clay figure of an animal, lions, llamas, dogs, and cows. These had numbers pasted to them. By means of a spring, a wooden monkey was made to climb the pole, carrying a stick in his hand with a hook on the end of it. In the meantime, the wheel of numbered animals was rapidly revolved until the monkey manikin made a jab with his hook and pulled off one of the clay animals. This decided the winning number. To see how it worked, I bought two numbers for two _reals_. The other numbers were soon sold in the crowd; the monkey clambered painfully up his stick, and owing to some defect of the mechanism, pulled off two clay figures instead of one. It happened that both of them bore the numbers which I held in my hand, but as I was a foreigner, and as the monkey had not played the game squarely, the figures were re-arranged, the spring again set, and my luck changed, much to the delight of the Aymarás.

The home of Bolivia’s millionaires, and the centre of Bolivian capital, is in Sucre, nevertheless there are nine banks of issue in La Paz, including several small ones that have no agencies in southern Bolivia and whose bills have only local circulation. While we were here, the banks put into operation a new rule to the effect that bills torn in two, after the favorite custom in Bolivia for making change, would be no longer accepted at the bank at their face value. It seemed natural and proper enough to us, but greatly disturbed the small tradesmen, and seemed likely to cause considerable inconvenience owing to the scarcity of subsidiary coinage.

During my entire visit I was treated most courteously by the government officials and I regret to feel any necessity of offering serious criticism of anything in La Paz. Nevertheless I cannot pass by the barbarous state of affairs which we found in the city prison, an institution which is entirely inadequate for a city of this size and a disgrace to any modern capital. The prisoners are herded together without regard as to whether they are detained on suspicion of misdemeanor or convicted of murder.

Not all of the prisoners are treated so humanely. For our satisfaction, the jailer unlocked the door of one cell, six feet high, three feet wide, and eighteen _inches_ deep. As the door opened, the occupant of the cell tumbled out onto the floor. He was a police officer in full uniform who for some delinquency had been imprisoned for twenty-four hours in this torture chamber where he could neither stand up nor lie down. I shall offer no further criticism because I am conscious of the fact that travellers in nearly every country are prone to find fault with the methods of punishment employed there. Coming from a different atmosphere, things seem dreadful to the stranger that attract no attention from local observers, and which are really not as hard on native prisoners as they would be on foreigners. Furthermore, the distinguished Bolivian statesman who had politely but regretfully yielded to our request to see the prison, told us he was very sorry we had seen it and that it “would be improved before long.”

The traveller in search of new itineraries or out-of-the-way routes will have plenty of suggestions made to him by the hospitable English and American colony in La Paz, and if he is at all uncertain in his mind as to just what he wants to do, he is likely to become bewildered by the number of attractive trips which he can make from La Paz as a base. La Paz contains the principal offices of a number of mining and exploration companies. The general manager of one of those that is engaged in gold-mining in the valley of the Beni, very nearly persuaded me to abandon my proposed trip overland from La Paz to Lima, and go across the mountains to the Beni, thence to the Amazon, and so home. Had it not required more time than I had at my disposal, and been a somewhat uncertain venture at this time of the year, I should have accepted his invitation. For the benefit of any who would like to plan a journey across South America by one of the new trade-routes which few travellers have yet seen, I give the itinerary as it was given me. It makes no allowances for missing connections:--

La Paz to Sorata by coach or mule-back, 2 days.

Sorata to Guanay, a hard trip on mule-back, 7 days.

Guanay to Rurrenabaque, on the river Beni, by raft, 4 days.

(In the rainy season, that is from January to April, there are very few rafts to be had. The route then would be from Sorata direct to Rurrenabaque, an interesting but rather difficult trip that would take fourteen days on mule-back.)

Rurrenabaque to river Alto at the junction of the Beni and the Madre de Dios by steam launch, 4 days; or by boat, 18 days.

From river Alto to Port San Antonio by boat, 6 days.

From Port San Antonio to Manaos on the Amazon, by steamer, 5 days.

Total: La Paz to Manaos, not counting time lost in making connection, 28 to 45 days.