Soon after our arrival the daily train started. The first stop was at the famous town of Tiahuanaco. We could see enough of the wonderful ruins from the train to arouse the greatest curiosity, which a few boys increased by trying to sell us trinkets which had possibly been dug up in the vicinity.
Beyond Tiahuanaco the country, part of the great tableland of Bolivia, is covered with loose stone and an occasional low shrub. Not a single tree breaks the monotony. Trees are rarely seen anywhere on this plateau. A three hours’ run over the level plains brought us to Alto de La Paz.
My impressions of the approach to La Paz were so much like those of our old friend Edmund Temple who came here from Potosí in 1828, that I shall quote in full his quaint and vivid description. “After travelling twelve, thirteen, and, as I imagined, every mile of the distance from Ventilla to La Paz, my astonishment was excited by not perceiving on so level a plain any object indicating the existence of a town. Sundry groups of Indians, droves of mules, llamas, and asses, some unladen, some with burdens, were indeed to be seen passing and repassing, as in the bustle of business, but no buildings or habitation whatever; no turret, dome, or steeple of church or convent appeared in view, although the tolling of their bells occasionally struck faintly on the ear. Huge, barren, weather-beaten rocks, and snow-covered mountains, apparently close at hand, rose directly before me, and presented an impassable barrier.
“I could not perceive where I was to find a town; and, as I rode onwards in strange perplexity, endeavoring to solve the enigma, I arrived suddenly at the verge of an abrupt and prodigious precipice, at the
bottom of which I beheld, in diminutive perspective, the large and populous city of La Paz.... Through this fairy town may be faintly seen, winding with occasional interruptions, a silver thread marked with specks of frothy white, which, upon approaching, proves to be a mountain-torrent, leaping from rock to rock, and sweeping through the valley. In casting a glance farther round, you perceive squares and patches of every shade of green and yellow, which, to a European, is perhaps the most striking part of the interesting scene. Corn, and fruit, and vegetables, and crops of every kind, may be seen in all their stages, from the act of sowing to that of gathering them in; here, a field of barley luxuriantly green; there, another in full maturity, which the Indians are busily reaping; next to it, a crop just appearing above the ground. Farther on, another arrived at half its growth; beyond it, a man guiding a pair of oxen yoked to a shapeless stick, the point of which scratches the earth sufficiently for the reception of the seed which another man is scattering in the furrows; trees bearing fruit and at the same time putting forth buds and blossoms complete the scene of luxuriance.... Yet it requires only to raise the eyes from the lap of this fruitful Eden to behold the widest contrast in the realms of Nature. Naked and arid rocks rise in mural precipices around; high above these, mountains beaten by furious tempests, frown in all the bleakness of sterility; higher still, the tops of others, reposing in the region of eternal snow, glisten uninfluenced in the presence of a tropical sun.
“I stopped for some minutes on the verge of the precipice to look upon a scene so wonderfully strange; indeed, my horse, of his own accord, made the first pause, and with outstretched neck, ears advanced, and frequent snorting, showed that he was not unaware of the abyss beneath, and seemed to inquire how it was to be descended, for the road, in a sudden turn, winding round the face of the precipice, is at first completely concealed from view; and, although it appeared as if I could have ‘thrown a biscuit’ into the town from the heights where I first discovered it, a short league is the calculated distance, and full three quarters of an hour were occupied in descending, before I entered the suburbs. Here, again, I was surprised to find that the town, which, from the height I had just left, appeared to be on a flat, was in reality built upon hills, and that some of the streets were extremely steep, which circumstance alone must convey a tolerable idea of the depth of the valley in which the city of La Paz is situated.”
The only change since the days of Temple, whose graphic pencil has so ably described the scene, is that a well-built electric railroad winds down the face of the western cliff into the town. At the time of his visit he was obliged to go from tambo to tambo in search of a lodging but found them all so full that there was no place for him. It gave him the opportunity of putting to test those often proffered services and complimentary generosities of the South American. Addressing the first decent-looking person he passed, he made inquiry who was the owner of a large and respectable mansion near by. On learning that it belonged to a worthy and excellent man, he determined to present himself and ask for lodgings. At first he was rather brusquely received by the lady of the house, who “stood for some time like a pillar of salt to my politely-studied address”; but he explained his predicament and was soon given a kind and affable reception.
Fortunately, we were not obliged to experiment upon the proverbial Bolivian hospitality, but were met at the station by kind friends, representatives of W. R. Grace & Co., who did everything in their power to add to the debt of gratitude which I had owed their house ever since I started on my journey. Comfortable quarters were found for us in the Sucursal, a huge, modern, three-story building intended for a convent, but now used as the annex of the leading hotel. It was not long before we were exploring the streets and enjoying the sights of the most picturesque Indian city in Spanish-America.