Just Go With It

Bolivia is a mind-blowing country. One moment you’re in La Paz – bustling markets, dirty cobbled streets, dizzying altitude…and the next moment you find yourself in the vast Salt Flats, or the silent mountain lakes, or in colourful Cochabamba. It’s difficult to put into words just how varied the scenery is until you’ve seen for yourself.

Bolivian culture completely reflects the utter randomness of the landscape. No one bothers to turn up at the time they say they will, and it’s often that you see women (nicknamed cholitas) wearing arguably every colour of the rainbow sewn into one skirt.

Today was no exception to this randomness. Having lived in El Alto for almost two months, I’d come to the conclusion that Saturdays were basically another day off, and I was rather looking forward to my lie-in. Alas, there on my doorstep stood a squabble of 10-year-olds, adamantly demanding that I get a move on.

“We’re going on a school trip…and you’re coming!”

Britain’s Health and Safety standards would have one hell of a ride in Bolivia. Three children were assigned to each seat, and when no more could fit, they brought benches and strung them down the aisle of the bus. Innovative, sure. But safe? Certainly didn’t feel it.

Tiwanaku was the name of our destination. I had been told that we were going swimming, so when we came to a vast desert I have to admit that I was quite gutted. I’d never heard of the place, but since returning to England I’ve seen it featured in a number of museum displays.

If you want Ancient History, Tiwanaku can deliver for sure. It’s considered to be the most important city to have existed before the Incas. Dirt cheap to get in, it feels almost thievery to be given an extensive tour.

Even without a translator the site speaks for itself. There in the beating sun, feet buried in the dust, stand dozens of monolitos – 2m cuboid statues carved by the civilization that built the once thriving city. The tour ended with a visit to see Pachamama. The goddess is an important part of Andean culture, worshipped in her various forms. At Tiwanaku they have the 8m idol which supposedly began the tradition, and it stands proudly as the glorious finale of the tour.

Tiwanaku is the definition of a perfect school trip: hugely undiscovered (so queues are minimal), space for playground games, and a history so potent you can practically imagine yourself standing amongst a crowd of pre-Inca men and women.

I just wish I had bought a postcard.