(warning: here is a very long story.)
From above, La Paz is a city that looks like it’s been sifted into a bowl made of mountains. Breathless from the altitude, the chill, and the excitement, all 41 members of J Squad huddle in taxis that sit waiting for us outside the airport. It’s nighttime – we flew in around golden hour, the perfect time to circle the peaks around La Paz from above – and as we ride down to our hostel for debrief, the highest capital city in the world glimmers and shines its orange streams of streetlights and headlights and we can’t help but think of Christmas.
Between squad sessions and one-on-ones with the coaches and squad mentor, we’re given time to roam free in the city. A group of us decide to make our way to the Mirador Killi Killi, a lookout perched partway up the side of a mountain (from above, you can’t tell how steep the streets are). After catching a micro, we arrive at Killi Killi, take some pictures, and watch this haze roll in. It gets chilly and it begins to rain – and then it turns into hail. We run for shelter under some orange structures. We wait out the hail, send a few of our squadmates back to the hostel, and I step into an adventure with Francis, Tom, and Laura. Of course, the only direction to choose is up – how else do you adventure in La Paz?
Around a corner, through some narrow back alleys, and up some very tiring staircases, another staircase appears. This one has a yellow railing and I can see it climbing and meandering over a pass to the next mountain over. I already can’t breathe. I don’t have the oxygen to say I don’t want to or I don’t think I can make it up. Nor do I want to say that – although I want to be able to breathe and hopefully escape the dehydration/altitude headache that I anticipate, I want to be an adventurer. I chose this path, I’m gonna walk it.
Francis and Laura spot the white church with the arch that they climbed up to the day before on that next mountain. So after they confirm that this yellow-railed staircase of death will at least get us over to that mountain – there’s no more direct way – we start up, me bringing up the rear. I struggle up, leaning forward in an attempt to just keep swimming and bending over every so often to try to catch my breath, and we get to the end of the staircase. Victorious.
The view’s great. I take some more pictures as an excuse to stop moving. We round the bend to see more and discover there’s a whole section of the city that we didn’t even know existed along with some snow-capped mountains in the background. I guess there’s a mountain in the middle of La Paz. Whatever. There’s a lady on the side of the street selling Bolivian style fried dough and we buy one from her. I’m not sure if I’ve ever been more thankful for sugar. We spot the church on the mountain again and we’re about level with it, but again the only way to go is up. Or down, but who wants to do that?
As we hike higher, more dogs appear. They’re all around La Paz and the only reason we ever really noticed them before was because they weren’t the same type of mangy dog that we always saw in Haiti. But now they’re barking more. I try not to notice and we walk past most of them without a problem. Francis has learned somewhere that the locals pick up a fist-sized stone to show the dogs what they’re up against and the dogs usually don’t bother them. But a group of three gringos and a japonesa (I’m not Japanese, guys) – well, I guess the dogs could tell. There’s a group of three that get pretty feisty and start getting too close for comfort. I honestly don’t even remember anymore what exactly happened but I do know there was lots of barking, shoving, and being told to stay calm and keep walking.
There’s some kind of park to our left on a steep incline. We weren’t going to go up there but, seeing the dogs up ahead, we decide to try it out. At this point, struggling for oxygen seems like a better option than getting bitten by a rabid dog and turning into a zombie. Francis has started hanging back with me, encouraging me to push forward and telling me that I’m not the only one struggling, which is surprisingly reassuring. Sometimes encouragement makes me feel stupid and like a baby but in this case I’m so grateful. Laura and Tom keep climbing up ahead of us, deciding on which paths to take and leading us closer and closer to the top, which I’m finally getting excited about.
At the other end of the park is a road. A couple is walking up it and we join them, chatting for a bit. They took a taxi up and they think we’re crazy for having hiked all that way. I more than agree with them. They tell us there’s a mirador just up ahead – the Mirador 27 de Mayo. It’s apparently the best view in all of La Paz because you get a 360 degree view of the city and the surrounding mountains.
Up at the mirador there’s already a decently large group of people eating, drinking beer, chilling, whatever. They explain to us that the elections are soon (don’t worry, we haven’t missed the huge processions and fireworks all over the city) and they’re gonna make an ofrenda for a woman running for one of the senate seats. She introduces herself to us and invites us to stay. Initially we think they’re gonna make her some kind of business offer but a couple of people are gathered around a pile of wood. They beckon us over when they’re about to start and there’s a llama fetus on the pile. This is where it starts to get pretty sketchy. They’re sprinkling wine and coca leaves on the fire and they tell us that it’s for Mother Earth. This is when I finally decide that the possibility of encountering something truly dangerous outweighs the benefits of having that cross-cultural experience and we all leave shortly after that. Phil, one of our contacts in Bolivia, tells us later that that sort of animism mixed with Catholicism and even evangelical Christianity is still very much present in Bolivia. This syncretism is very influential and sacrifices are common especially when breaking ground for new buildings.
Coming back down the hill is so much easier, even though we’re hurting for water and are still struggling for air. We hike (well, I half-hike and half-fall) down the windy roads down to the white church with the arch: our original goal. But there’s a super angry rabid dog there that snaps at Laura’s ankles and puts a hole in Tom’s pants (he doesn’t wear the loosest pants either). One of the locals somehow saves us and we run down from the church. A few adorable kids wave to us and return our enthusiastic hola!! with a few shy smiles and waves (and Hello Kitty! Hello Kitty! while pointing at me).
On the way back down the mountain, I have enough oxygen to think about what had actually just happened. My teammates Sarah and Seth think in metaphors all the time and I make my own – climbing up that mountain is like life in community. Cheesy, I know. But the thing is, you never know what will be coming up around the next bend or over the next staircase, but you have to trust the people around you to keep pushing you forward even when it looks impossible. Rabid dogs snap at your ankles and ofrendas are made at the top – trials will come and the journey won’t be easy, not at all. But it’s about the adventure. Adventure doesn’t always have to look like physical exertion and adrenaline rushes. It can look like choosing to be an active participant in your own journey and the journeys of those around you. I believe adventure and abundant life lies in knowing people and being willing to walk your journeys together, no matter where you are.
(See pictures on my tumblr: allisonyhuang.tumblr.com)
