After the quiet that was yesterday, we all had our fingers crossed that maybe it was... over?
Some people in our hostel have this crazy idea that it's fun to be stuck in this situation. If someone was paying me, fair enough. If I was working, fair enough. But as a bystander, no thankyou. I'm supposed to be on holiday, not trying to dodge tear gas!
The dynamite explosions to rally the protesters started up again before midday with more intensity and ferocity than before, so we had no choice but to hole up in our hostel. With nothing else to do, I decided to pass some time online. This was fine until all the computers, hovers etc. in our hostel were suddenly cut off, sparking a panic of a city-wide power cut - something that the protesters had been threatening since all the trouble began. After half an hour of thinking we'd have to start living on chocolate and bananas, we got a report from a fellow guest that it was just our block that had no power. Relief all round and we celebrated with a game of cards.
To be honest, I'm still clinging to the vague hope we can leave on Saturday (the agency still haven't confirmed our flight) or that the British Embassy will rescue us if it gets any worse.
From what we've seen in the centre and gringo district, the atmosphere is a lot calmer than it was on Tuesday. We haven't smelt a whiff of tear gas and while many people are congregating in the squares, we haven't seen any marches outside the square, violence or further ripping up of the roads.
While we see some taxis and buses trying to drum up business in the early mornings, the rest of the day the streets are free of cars because of fear that they might get stoned. Even the taxi that brought us from the airport had a big crack across his windscreen after he was ambushed.
Protesters are making speeches along the main avenue but there seems to be a lot less people gathering there than earlier this week. Police presence is concentrated to government buildings and the main squares, and appears minimal elsewhere. Police aren't very popular at the moment so they're trying to stick together.
In Sucre, Congress are meeting today to decide the fate of President Mesa - is he allowed to resign or not? Not that any of this matters to the protesters, getting Mesa out of office doesn't help their cause. It's just a temporary distraction for the government.
Other news: the only time I ventured out today, I had some horrible squat Bolivian man say something rude and blow me a kiss. Urgh! The funny thing is, it's so cold here that I reckon he could only see from my eyebrows to my nose - I'm so wrapped up!
Thursday, 9 June 2005
The message is clear
Wednesday, 8 June 2005
All's quiet in La Paz
If you want to beat the protestors you have to get up early in the morning. That's because most of them have a long walk from El Alto - the poor suburb that's far away from the city centre and stretches up into the mountains.
So today we were at the post office at 9am, shipping yet another box of woolen products to the UK. Getting Amy out of bed at that time is a war in itself, but we made it.
We saw a few cars making their way through the streets, undisturbed, (yesterday, they would have been stoned) and market stalls were opening. By midday, protesters had gathered on the main avenue, but compared to yesterday's bedlam, all is calm.
This afternoon we discovered shops on our street that previously hid behind wooden boards. We haven't smelt so much as a whiff of tear gas all day. Many market stalls are still closed, but it's an improvement.
It's currently 4pm and there's not a hint of tension in the air. At this time yesterday we were cowering in a shop the size of a shoebox with eight Bolivian people, watching the tear gas fly from our window.
In fact, the most dangerous thing I experienced today was a chicken empanada I bought off the side of the road (after biting the top off, I tipped about a pint of grease out of it before admitting defeat).
Another serious danger is that the longer we stay here, the more crap we end up buying. "Look Amy, that rug's nice," ten minutes later turned into: "Ok, we'll take it!"
Certain foods are becoming so sparse that the burger I ate for lunch appeared to have been sliced down the middle, so that the other half could be sold to another customer. We've stocked up with enough water, snacks and booze to last us until we (hopefully) fly on Saturday. Our seats on the flight will be confirmed or denied tomorrow.
So today we were at the post office at 9am, shipping yet another box of woolen products to the UK. Getting Amy out of bed at that time is a war in itself, but we made it.
We saw a few cars making their way through the streets, undisturbed, (yesterday, they would have been stoned) and market stalls were opening. By midday, protesters had gathered on the main avenue, but compared to yesterday's bedlam, all is calm.
This afternoon we discovered shops on our street that previously hid behind wooden boards. We haven't smelt so much as a whiff of tear gas all day. Many market stalls are still closed, but it's an improvement.
It's currently 4pm and there's not a hint of tension in the air. At this time yesterday we were cowering in a shop the size of a shoebox with eight Bolivian people, watching the tear gas fly from our window.
In fact, the most dangerous thing I experienced today was a chicken empanada I bought off the side of the road (after biting the top off, I tipped about a pint of grease out of it before admitting defeat).
Another serious danger is that the longer we stay here, the more crap we end up buying. "Look Amy, that rug's nice," ten minutes later turned into: "Ok, we'll take it!"
Certain foods are becoming so sparse that the burger I ate for lunch appeared to have been sliced down the middle, so that the other half could be sold to another customer. We've stocked up with enough water, snacks and booze to last us until we (hopefully) fly on Saturday. Our seats on the flight will be confirmed or denied tomorrow.
