DAY 95: In the late summer of 2003, Bolivians just about had it with their president. In protest of their leader, they went on strikes, set up road blocks in the countryside and protested, sometimes violently in the city streets -- only to be dealt with the National Police.

Since the changing of presidents in October 2003, peace came back to the country (allowing tourists like me to get in) and without the protests, the National Police put down their "brass" of arms and picked up another type of "brass" -- tubas, trumpets and trombones -- for the National Police Musical Band.

The musical cops set up a free concert as I walked through the Plaza 10 de Noviembre on an overcast day. The band of about twenty-five officers in green uniform played forceful marching band pieces together. I thought it was funny when after their big finale, I heard the corny two-toned honks of a bicycle horn coming from an ice cream cart vendor.

IT WAS ABOUT NOON when I went out to explore the city -- which wasn't good since most of the museums and churches were closed for their mid-day siesta period. Instead, I wandered beyond the crowded city streets and onto the quieter ones. I decided to investigate the big modern observation tower atop one of the big hills nearby that I figured was too new since it wasn't in my book. I walked down the hilly streets, through the poorer sections of town, along the train tracks and up the big hill to the tower.

I discovered that the structure wasn't yet completed; the final touches of moulding and door handles weren't in place yet. Later I learned that the tower was built in hopes that a company would install a restaurant on top. At the time of this writing there were no takers, so the tower just sort of sat there.

I arrived at the base and met some guy working on the elevator.

"[Is this open?]" I asked.

"[You want to climb up?]" said the construction worker.

"Si."

"[You pay me?]"

"[How much?]"

"[One boliviano.]"

I paid him and climbed up the stairs. I knew that I had been scammed because I heard the guy laughing with some nearby woman about me actually paying him money. No matter, the view at the top deck was impressive as I could see the whole city, the countryside behind on one side, the Cerro Rico on the other.

Being at one of the highest points in the highest city in the world, I thought to myself, "Gee, I could really hock a loogey from way up here." I expectorated like I was about to say something in German and spat over the side of the deck. I watched my wad of saliva disintegrate in the wind as gravity took it down -- it was definitely worth the one boliviano.

LONELY PLANET CALLED THE CASA REAL DE LA MONEDA, the Royal Mint, "Potosi's star attraction and perhaps Bolivia's best museum." After siesta period, I went to see this star attraction the only way possible: on a two-hour guided tour. The tour was conducted entirely in Spanish for about 30 or so people, many of which were native in Spanish anyway. Regardless of the language barrier, I felt the tour was a bit boring as the woman led us to Bolivian's first locomotive, the religious art gallery, the minting room and the room of balances.

Things started picking up when we toured the modern art gallery of the works of Cecilio Guzman de Rojas and the old rolling mills, powered by two mules going around in circles to move the main cog, which were later replaced by electric machines imported from Bridgeton, New Jersey, U.S.A. We also toured the archaeological wing, with its ancient artifacts, ceramics and dead baby mummies found inside a crypt under San Bernardo church.

THE MAIN CATHEDRAL finally had its doors open for a look, and I paid for the tour which gave me photographic privileges. An English-speaking guide explained that the cathedral was actually the second cathedral, built over the first adobe one -- some of the relief sculptures from the original were integrated in the new structure.

My guide showed me inside the church, the big impressive pipe organ and ultimately led me up to the bell tower for another spectacular view of the city (picture above). Unfortunately, the way the roofs below were designed didn't give me a good straightdown shot for another loogey.

THE SUN WENT DOWN and the temperature dropped, so I went out for a crema de pollo (cream of chicken soup) -- the Bolivians are keen on cream soups. As I walked around the streets at night, a drizzle came down from the sky.

I hoped it wasn't anyone from the top of the observation tower with the same idea that I had.