Vol. XX, No. 2 WASHINGTON February, 1909 



0 



THE 



©OIKAIPIHIffiD 

 A(SAM 



0 



KALEIDOSCOPIC LA PAZ: THE CITY OF 



THE CLOUDS 



By Harriet Chalmers Adams 



With Photographs by the Author 



A LIGHTING from the train at Alto 

 f\ La Paz, I looked in vain for the 

 1 V city. A railway station, three old- 

 fashioned stage coaches awaiting city- 

 bound passengers — but where was "La 

 Paz de Ayacucho," the metropolis of 

 Bolivia ? 



On either side of the track a dreary 

 brown plain seemed to stretch unbrokenly 

 to the snowy range of the Andes. There 

 was not a trace of verdure, not a single 

 habitation in sight beyond the forlorn 

 little station-house. It was bitterly cold, 

 for Alto La Paz is 13,000 feet above the 

 sea, and while my fellow-traveler at- 

 tended to the luggage I walked rapidly 

 along the road, hoping to "thaw out." 



Suddenly, to my amazement, I found 

 myself on the brink of a deep canyon, a 

 cut in the plain, heretofore imperceptible. 

 Across the gorge the mountains towered 

 skyward, while far below, in the narrow 

 valley, lay a red-roofed city. A steep, 

 serpentine wagon-road led from heights 

 to valley, and on this highway I could dis- 

 cern moving objects toiling upward. 



It quite takes one's breath away, this 

 unexpected view of La Paz, and on inti- 

 mate acquaintanceship the place retains 



the unique charm of this first impression. 

 No other New World city resembles it, 

 and it has few rivals on earth in pic- 

 turesque diversity. Although protected 

 from the icy blasts which sweep across 

 the bleak plateau above, La Paz is a city 

 of the clouds, elevated nearly two and a 

 half miles above sea-level, and the trav- 

 eler bound thither will do well, when 

 equipping, to prepare for a land where it 

 is alzvays winter. 



Until recent years highland Bolivia 

 was a hermit republic, reached only after 

 a long and difficult overland journey. 

 Now one can climb to the Andean up- 

 lands by rail, and this year can even 

 descend from Alto La Paz to the city by 

 trolley. The local color, however, has 

 not as yet been greatly marred by 

 that buccaneer and despoiler of natural 

 beauty, modern civilization. 



On leaving the heights our stage driver 

 decided to win in the race to town and 

 lashed his mules into a gallop. I sat on 

 top of the coach, expecting to have a 

 splendid view, and held fast to the seats' 

 railing — and my breath — as we dashed 

 down the steep, zig-zag road. We won 

 the race, even arriving intact, but alto- 



