272 THE ROAD TO BOLIVIA 



La Paz is more notable than the Eternal Cit}', for it covers forty hills 

 and hollows. Two or three of the main streets that lie along the 

 ridges are reasonably level and wide enough to accommodate the 

 traffic of a population numbering 60,000 or 70,000. There has never 

 been a reliable census. Fine houses of heavy walls of stone or adobe 

 are i»ainted in giddy colors — blue, green, pink, purple, or orange — 

 and often embellished with fantastic designs that are ver}'- much 

 admired by the Bolivians, who love gay color, music, and motion; 

 but most of the streets are narrow and steep like stairways, with side- 

 walks, except the plarji and the principal trading streets, and ])aved 

 with small cobblestones, with the sharj) ends up, so as to lessen the 

 danger of slip{)ing in dam[) weather. The best hotel we have ever 

 found in South America occu[)ies the jialace of the former viceroy. 

 The unfinished cathedral, which adjoins the government " }nilace ", 

 where the president resides and the heads of the executive depart- 

 ments have their offices, is an enormous structure, large enough for a 

 city of ten times the size of La Paz. The brick walls, eight or ten 

 feet thick, are veneered with dressed stone, and some of the carving 

 is beautiful. 



Other cities in Bolivia are not so far advanced as La Paz. INIost of 

 them still adhere to the antiquated manners and methods which 

 their ancestors brought from Spain. There is certainl}' no part of 

 America — I think it safe to say that there is no spot in the civilized 

 universe — that is so far behind the age or where the modes of the 

 JMiddle Ages prevail as they do in Bolivia. 



The 'plaza, which is overlooked by the windows of the hotel, is a 

 pretty place, has a fountain from which the poorer families draw 

 their daily supply of water, and a immber of well-kept plants. 

 Every alternate evening, at eight o'clock, a militar}' band pla3's, and 

 the entire population turn out to promenade. It is almost their 

 only social diversion, as opera and theatrical companies seldom take 

 the trouble to go so far as La Paz, and the exchange of hospitality is 

 limited chiefl}' to the men. On the other nights the band plays in 

 the Almeda, a handsome promenade shaded by eucal^'ptus trees 

 and furnished with rows of iron benches. 



At the elevation of 12,-500 feet above the sea the atmosphere is so 

 rare that breathing is difficult, and people afflicted with heart disease 

 or weak lungs or a superabundance of flesh must avoid exertion as 

 much as ])ossible. The veins in your head feel as if they were about 

 to burst. You pant like a tired hound as you climb the steep streets 



