From Isla del Sol, Sinead and I headed to La Paz. We were both feeling a bit run down from traveling quickly and we were excited to get to La Paz knowing that we would be spending four straight nights in once place. I was also excited to see my friend, Mark, who I had met a few weeks earlier in Huacachina and had been making plans to meet up with ever since.
We checked into the Wild Rover, an Irish owned hostel known for wild parties and crazy antics.
We were delighted to run into our friends Mona, Diarmuid, and (another) Mark who had been on our Machu Picchu trek, and were also spending the weekend at the Rover.
As we entered our room, the first thing the our new roommates told us was that there was a mouse in the room. For those who haven't stayed in hostels before, I think there's a big misconception that they are filthy and gross, which isn't true at all. Almost every hostel we've stayed in is clean and comfortable.
While Sinead and I were both creeped out by the mouse comment, we didn't want to seem high maintenance, so we decided it was a better idea to go to reception and tell them that we forgot to ask to be in the same room as Mark, our friend we were meeting.
"You're in luck," the receptionist told us. "Mark's already in that room!" Defeated, we went back to our room and hoped to avoid any run ins with the tiny creature.
The Wild Rover was having a Full Moon/UV party that night. Clearly we chose the right hostel since Sinead and I love theme parties, and obviously we were excited.
Though we weren't exactly sure what to wear to a Full Moon/UV party (and white isn't exactly my color,) the bar staff had promised UV paint. When we got there, though, they were using straws to paint people's faces...so unprofessional. Being the fancy dress experts we are, we clearly took the paint brushes from our most important backpacking possession... Our face paint kit and did real UV artwork on each other's faces. The rest of the bar and the staff also appreciated our brush and people began to get really into it.
The night started out normal... We had a few lines and some dots of UV paint on our faces, but it ended with us totally covered.
When the night finally ended - literally - the sun was coming up as we headed to bed, we found the mouse the girls had been talking about. Dead. Curled up peacefully on Mark's bed. Though the hostel offered to change his bed, in a classic Mark move, he convinced them for a change of sheets and a free tshirt instead.
Our first full day La Paz was raining, so a few hours after we woke up, attempted to get over our hangovers and procrastinated by pretending to take naps, we stopped trying to avoid the inevitable and decided to start drinking White Russians and play cards at the bar around 3pm.
There was another theme party that night- is this heaven? - Cowboys and Indians. With our face paint, my hippy headbands, and a clever repurposing of the feathers from our Mardi Gras masks the week before, we improvised some pretty damn good costumes. I even had mocassins and Sinead braided her hair into pigtails.
The Wild Rover is like a black hole of drunkenness. There are always people drinking in the bar - no matter the time of day. If you're not in the bar by 6pm, the bar tenders come into your room with a bottle of liquor and offer you free shots. Once you check in, you rarely leave during the daytime, but you almost always manage to see the first light of day.
Though the Wild Rover is a bit like Hotel California, once you check in, you don't check out, there's a huge sense of comraderie among the guests. Everyone knows everyone... Mainly since they spend all their time in the same place. After a few days, you walk in the bar and know everyone. It's like your local bar from home, and you walk in and make your rounds and say hello to everyone.
By our third night at the Rover, we were exhausted and Mark, Sinead and I, along with our Machu Picchu friends decided we needed to get out. Even though it was a Saturday, we decided to go to dinner and a movie... Basically blasphemy in the Wild Rover culture.
On Sunday, we booked our bus tickets to the Amazon, Rurrenabaque, a story I will tell when I am ready to relive the horror, and I went with a group of about 30 people to Cholitas wrestling, La Paz's version of the WWF, except with Bolivian women dressed in traditional garb and WAY more fake.
It was here, as I was walking through a crowded street, that a man dropped his hat at my feet. I was distracted as he aggressively fumbled around for it around my ankles and didn't realize his companion reach his hand into my pocket and steal my phone. The whole thing probably took 15 seconds and I realized immediately what had happened, but it was too late. They had my phone, which sucks, but thankfully that's all that they got, and phones are replaceable.
To be honest, I feel like I've earned one more notch on the backpackers list. I didn't expect to get out of this trip unscathed and if this is the worst thing that happens to me, I'll consider myself lucky.
Photos:
1: Dead baby llamas for good luck in the witches market
2: La Paz from above
3: The Machu Picchu crew: Diarmuid, me, Sinead, Mona and Mark at the UV party
4: Sinead, Mark and I at Cowboys and Indians
5: Mona, Sinead, Matt and I at Cowboys and Indians
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