Finding Beer in Bolivia: Tupiza to La Paz

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Nothing
got me through my travels like beer did. Beer punctuated every enjoyable
experience I had when travelling, and not necessarily in an inebriation
obsessed way either. The discovery of beer distracted me, congratulated me,
reminded me that in all the chaos of changing altitude, miscommunication and
questionable tour guides, one thing remainded consistent- the relief and
happiness you experience with your first sip of an ice-cold beer.

This
was no more apparent than during my two and half weeks in Bolivia, a short time
by anyone’s standards, but enough time for me to experience a range of
emotions, oscillating between vague content and desperate fear. Not that
Bolivia was scary at all really, it was just so different to everything I had
imagined it would be. But mostly it was because, for the first time, I was
travelling alone.

The
first beer-pisode took place on a rooftop in Tupiza, with Dean, a Birmingham
party boy who DJ’d too. As we watched the hostel owner’s laundry flapping
gently in the wind, we admired the surrounding Wild West-like scenery. Dusty
rock formations and occasional cacti surrounded this dusty little desert town,
the famed hideout for Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.Which the hostel,
Valle Hermosa, had on DVD. Not that we watched it.

Our
rooftop beer drinking, of what I think was a litre of Huari, included a deep
discussion of everything from Dean’s recent five weeks teaching English in Rio
de Janeiro, to the benefits of travelling alone. I remember still being very
insecure of my solo backpacker status at the time, happy for the slight buzz
the huge bottle of beer provided. I think this may have prompted Dean to share
some inappropriate anecdotes, the cementing of our friendship and the first
time I laughed consistently at almost everything someone said in a long time. I
blame the accent.

The
second prominent beer event was during our four day overland trip across the
southern Bolivian desert. Along with Dean, and four other English-speaking friends,
we had formed a six-strong crew, and spending hours in a jeep, with the
altitude consistently increasing, along with my headache. On a brief break to
appreciate a lake populated by flamingoes in varying shades of pink, I found
the next significant Bolivan brew, Paceña.

Although
the scenery was incredible, the vast emptiness of the Bolivian wilderness was
overwhelming, and the fact that our driver was suspected of stealing our bottle
of tequila the night before did not do much to help the growing level of
tension between our crew. I was faraway from any form of contact with my
family, and I was becoming acutely more aware of the fact that I was days away
from civilization. So the beer helped, tremendously.

A
few days after trying to take perspective shots of ourselves with beer bottles
and plastic toys on the Salt Flats, I found myself in the silver-mining town of
Potosi, at over 4,000m above sea levels. Only a few upward steps and I would be
dizzy, and panting. The week of cocoa leaf chewing had helped me adjust
somewhat, and although I appreciated the windy cobbled streets of the town that
was once the richest in the world, all I wanted was to sit down.

So
I did, and a bottle of the local beer, La Potosina, helped me keep my altitude
affected head. My friends helped too. As the trip progressed, and we left some
of our Salt Flats crew behind in Uyuni, I was beginning to relax, and
appreciate. Our hostel, The Koala Den, couldn’t have made life any easier, and
the club we visited that night was further proof of Potosi’s underrated charm.

In
Sucre, the gorgeous white capital city of Bolivia, we found respite from days
spent crawling underground with a crazy Bolivian miner. We also found
ice-cream, the view of city from the top of a church dome and more Huari. Sucre
is one of the most beautiful cities I have visited, as your can appreciate from
hillside cafe next to the monastery, where all you can see is the white washed
colonial splendour below.

White
washed is also another appropriate adjective for the result of our behaviour in
Sucre. A restaurant called Florin had a mean half price cocktail special which
lead to a night of dancing. Huari, one again, made an appearance, but this time
is was to solidify a mute friendship with my newfound Bolivian friend, who
tried to communicate with me in Spanish, but we decided to just dance to reggaeton
instead.

The
final beer-pisode took place in the notorious city of La Paz. From what I had
heard this place from backpacker ghetto central. The Wild Rover and the Loki
hostel are in such proximity in fact, that you don’t really have to walk more
than a block to find a party, unless of course you actually wanted to see some
of the city.

Which
most people do not do, apart from aimless wandering through the Witches Market
to marvel at the dried llama foetuses and buy more woolen alpaca gear to shield
yourself from the altitude chill, and the rain apparently. My five days in La
Paz, were as anticipated, more concerned with the next brew, my favourite, La
Paz Pilsner. The label looked just liked Huari, but it was even better this
time, especially when I got to drink it after being served by Dean, the Loki’s
latest staff addition.

From
Huari, to Paceña, La Potosina to La Paz Pilsner, all the variations of Bolivian
beer recall memories of a very short trip, but one that felt infinitely longer
to me. In a short space of two and a half weeks I had gone from solo insecure
to hanging out in the Loki La Paz on my own, laughing and drinking with
everyone from the Irish girl obsessed with a growing pimple on her forehead to
the American who got me to edit some of the book he was writing on how to grow
a beard, aptly titled: “So you want to grow a beard?”.

So really, in hindsight,
finding beer was really more about finding a new attitude towards travelling
alone, aided by the relaxing effects that it had on my central nervous
system. And even though it was hard to leave La Paz Pilsner behind,
fortunately there was still the discovery of Cusqueña and the homemade brew, chicha,
to look forward to.