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Later, hearts pounding from the climb, we reached the Killi Killi viewpoint. The effort was rewarded with a breathtaking panorama, the jagged city below, and beyond it, the snow-capped Andes cutting the sky. In the distance, we spotted the Estadio Hernando Siles, legendary for its thin air. At this altitude, visiting football teams often gasp for oxygen before halftime. FIFA once even tried to ban matches here. As we left La Paz behind, Bolivia was facing Colombia in a World Cup qualifier. We didn’ t need to ask who won.
Fuel became our next battle. Being foreigners on foreign plates in Bolivia is an invitation to confusion, and sometimes hostility. At six different stations, attendants refused to sell us petrol. Finally, a kind man with a sympathetic smile led us behind his station, sold us a battered 10-litre can, and discreetly filled it at the official“ foreigner” rate. For us, it was nothing. For him, it was likely a week’ s wage.
Bolivia’ s wealth and suffering are carved from the same mountains. Gold, silver, lithium, phosphorus, treasures that should have made the nation rich. But the mines that glittered with promise brought only exploitation, from the Spanish conquerors to the modern multinationals granted the right to dig.
To understand this duality, we rode not to the famous mines of Potosí, but to Oruro, the“ place where the sun rises.” More famous for its
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