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La Paz buy blow

La Paz, Bolivia. The highest city in the world with an elevation reaching just under 12, feet. And on the contrary, vibrantly dressed Native Bolivians and ski-masked shoe shiners trying to make ends meet. Or the Cholita Wrestlers of the neighboring El Alto. Who are battling not only in the ring, but for resistance to the violence surrounding them and fighting against domestic abuse, gender stereotypes, and discrimination that indigenous women in Bolivia have endured. Enter your email address. Sign Up. The notorious Penal de San Pedro is one of the most dangerous, lawless institutions you will find anywhere on earth. The prison is ruled by elected leaders, all of which happen to be detainees of San Pedro. Originally designed for inmates, there are 1, prisoners with over 3, inhabitants in total because many live inside with their families, including wives and children. Here is where it gets a little wild. For the right price, visitors are were allowed to stay in the prison for up to extended periods of time. The prison even conducts tours for the bravest or dumbest of backpackers who want to get a taste of life inside or a taste of its famous nose candy. The main source of income for inmates comes from the sale of cocaine to tourists who visit the prison, and from renting their accommodations. This was all made famous and documented in the book Marching Powder by Rusty Young. Marching Powder is the true story of a British-Tanzanian man, Thomas McFadden, convicted of drug trafficking, who made a living running tours for backpackers inside San Pedro. It turns out, our new friend who we are about to meet happens to be a prominent character in the book. After exploring the city for a few hours, our legs were tired and we were ready to treat ourselves to an afternoon pint. The World Cup was on so we found a local watering hole and settled in. Vito had decided to step outside for a moment to check out the sun setting over the city with snow-capped, Mt. Illimani as its backdrop. When he came back inside he had claimed to have just met one of the wildest humans he had ever come across in our travels. The man, who happened to be barefoot, was really friendly and ecstatic to have come across a fellow New Yorker as he himself was a native of the big apple. The mysterious character who claimed to have done time in San Pedro Prison was dressed in an old football jersey styled with a du-rag and talked a mile a minute. After bullshitting for a few minutes reminising about NYC, and giving some tips on navigating La Paz, he concluded that we should meet him tomorrow to check out his walking tour. They shook hands and he introduced himself as Crazy Dave. A fitting name that suited his larger-than-life persona. There was something about this guy. He was an enigma. He seemed a little off his hinges yet articulate and well-spoken at the same time. Vito, who was blown away by his conversation, tried to put into words the experience he had just encountered. What is his deal? How the hell did he end up here, it must be one hell of a story. Dave was once a normal guy with big dreams of becoming a rockstar. He played shows in Lower Manhattan regularly and even performed with Axl Rose once upon a time. His dream of becoming a rockstar was quickly derailed as he worked multiple jobs to support his wife and their two children. His whole world would soon be shattered when he discovered his wife got knocked up by their local coke-dealing delivery boy. Dave now was living the life of a rockstar without the guitar, putting all his money up his nose. Cocaine is a hell of a drug. Learn Spanish, adapt like a local, and be the contact point for moving weight back to the US. Dave was sold on the idea and showed up the next day, passport in hand. The only problem was, Dave thought Bolivia was in Africa. Classic Dave. Long story short, fast forward to the mid-nineties…Dave was busted at the La Paz airport while attempting to smuggle 8. He was sentenced to 16 years in the infamous prison. Dave is convinced he was a decoy for a larger payload and took the wrap because he was a gringo. He committed the crime and now he had to do the time. But this is no ordinary penitentiary. Dave spent 14 years in San Pedro and the rest is history. With a larger-than-life personality, Dave hosts his story time every day rain or shine. Though he was dealt a shitty hand, Dave has a surprisingly optimistic outlook on life. He dives into details and explains how he managed to stay alive in a place like San Pedro. A spectacular storyteller, Dave recalls his time in the prison. He gives a real unfiltered look at the bizarre things that happened inside. Dave will shed light on a few things like…. I asked him if he ever wanted to go back inside San Pedro. His answer :. Dave is clean now and spends his time giving his Crazy Dave Delirium tour in hopes of a few bucks and some food to keep himself going. Homeless, Dave uses the bolivianos he earns to pay off the local police to allow him to continue operating his tours. Better yet Crazy Dave will find you. At no additional cost to you, we may receive a commission for purchases made through these links, which helps us keep the blog up and running. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed. Skip to content. Enter your email address Sign Up. Share this! Like this: Like Loading April 27, at pm. Leave a Reply Cancel reply.

The magical city la paz and the pill for the naughty boy

La Paz buy blow

Route 36 is an illegal pop-up lounge bar located in La Paz, Bolivia where cocaine is served by the gram on a silver platter, along with the cocktail of your choice. It also seems to be somewhere literally everyone knows about, which leads you to suspect that, for it to remain open, there may be an element of corruption at play. Of course, while everyone knows of it, not everybody knows where it actually is. After provoking blank faces from three cabbies, we eventually found our man. He quoted us 15 bolivianos just over a buck and took us on our way. The only hiccup on our journey was the roadblock we had to circumvent. The day before our taxi ride, at the end of July, those demands were delivered by way of dynamite set off in the middle a busy road. This is the sort of climate in which La Paz has resided for the past few years; tourists indulging in artisanal local drug services, while protests rage every couple of months, from soldiers demanding better working conditions to the disabled campaigning for better welfare support. Arriving at the bar, we were almost manhandled through a four-foot opening in what looked like a garage door by the three young Bolivian men who were rather inconspicuously standing guard outside. It was delivered to us instantly. Route 36 changes location as soon as there are complaints from the locals. According to a few of the guys sat around the table, it had been here for several weeks. There were around 20 people in the bar. We were sat with eight English gap year kids, two Belgian professionals, and the Norwegian. Half a dozen Irish businessmen were sat on the opposite side of the bar, definitely the most wound up and coke-y of everyone in there, in addition to two bar-women, the hostess, the DJ who kept playing fucking terrible dubstep , and two security guards constantly pacing around. In the Andes, the leaf is considered a sacred commodity, and President Evo Morales is a staunch defender of its medicinal and nutritional qualities. And he makes a very valid point; its cultural importance for Andean people, who have chewed the leaf for thousands of years, is primarily to relieve altitude sickness, not facilitate four-hour house party conversations with your boss about how to improve workflow. Since legalizing coca cultivation after he was elected in , Morales has repeatedly insisted that coca is not cocaine, calling on the UN to remove it from its list of prohibited drugs. I had to excuse myself from pleasantries and introductions to rack up on the cut-out surfaces that the bar had provided. Unsurprisingly, I became chattier than usual as we all exchanged life stories and travel tips. This place was a far cry from their experience that day. The bar had a deal going, so Josephine and I pooled our cash with our two new friends to get four grams for the price of three. Suddenly a charismatic—but a little wet behind the ears—Swedish guy pitched up next to us and started passing lines around for everyone. I had to show him how to snort the coke. He was the kind of man who would get busted in a second anywhere besides the security of that box, and his entrance summed up the ease with which one can locate the place. By 5 AM I was pretty wired, chain smoking cigarettes and talking very much at people rather than with them. At around half 6, a woman in her fifties asked us if we wanted any weed, trying to avoid the gaze of the bar-staff. Photo by Zxc via. By Manisha Krishnan and Keegan Hamilton. By Drew Schwartz. By Nathaniel Janowitz. By Manisha Krishnan. Share: X Facebook Share Copied to clipboard. Videos by VICE.

La Paz buy blow