Mark and I headed off to the local prison made famous by the visits / tours offered by inmates to make a few extra quid. The local inmates are not provided with food during their stay so they rely on visiting family and or other means (drug dealing / tour guiding) to make enough money for food and other essentials. Around five years ago a book (and film) recounted in detail some of the goings on and the prison was much more closely guarded from then on.
Recent reports however indicated that the tourism had restarted and we headed down hopeful of being able to join the family visitors queuing up to visit their loved ones. We got to the prison and decided it best to look like tourists, hoping one of the touts / facilitators would spot us. Being white is not quite enough, though thankfully our western clothing meant we were 90% there. The final touch involved us looking at the map, a sure sign of a visitor in our opinion.
After a few minutes, and having exhausted the stands of a nearby University exhibition, we approached two policemen on traffic duty, right by the queue for the prison visitors. “Ola, Amigo, Soeak English?” “We want to visit the prison!”
Sadly our response was along the lines of only families, so we went on our way, without so much as a sniff of the insides. We did see a delivery of some new prisoners, and many visitors patiently waiting, but aside from that, the morning proved an anti-climax in the prison visiting front.
By this evening, am just back, we had a surreal experience, as there was clearly some bother outside. I first got a little suspicious as the streets had gone quiet, not a normal sign in my experience. We then heard a series of the crackers heard at the riot a few days earlier, my guess that they were coming from the main square, some 500 yards from my hotel. I viewed the streets around 7ish and saw a number of people running anxiously, I guess having witnessed some disturbances judging by their faces.
So before heading off, I asked the hotel staff if it was safe to go outside to which we got an unsatisfying “we don’t know” in response. Sensibly we abandoned plans for a nice restaurant across town instead dining at a nearby Italian. The night got most bizarre though when we spotted a news report including words such as Militia and there being lots of flashing lights. Could it be that there had been a coup? It wouldn’t be the first in these parts but it turned out the story was about the Christmas lights being turned on! Healthy awareness or paranoia, we were happy that Bolivia and finally got round to sorting out its Christmas lighting.
Last thing to report, was one of the overlanders was apparently robbed by a thief pretending to be a policeman. He ushered her into a car and after driving some distance relieved her of the contents of her handbag. A useful reminder to never trust a policeman…
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