A Jolly Good Trip

Lisa and I first learned about San Pedro Prison in La Paz by reading about it in The Lonely Planet travel book on Bolivia. We read that it used to be possible to tour the prison with inmate escorts but that this practice had been discontinued.

On our first day in La Paz, we set off for the Witches Market and navigated our way towards the San Pedro prison. The prison is in the middle of the city across from a small park/courtyard. We stood across the street from the entrance watching the people going in and out when we were approached by a well dressed, good looking English speaking man who asked us if we would like to go inside the prison. He assured us that it was possible and that it would cost 300 Bolivianos (approx. $40 US) per person. He also mentioned that he had been a “guest” of the facilities in earlier days and that everything was safe for tourist visitors.

We decided to take the plunge and walked over to the prison and went through the first entrance door. Everything was chaotic in the cramped space with visitors on one side of the barred gates and dozens of inmates on the other all shouting messages and greetings to one another. There were many women and some had their children in tow and pushed past down a corridor where they could meet their husbands or boyfriends or brothers etc, in cubicles separated by thick wire mesh. No one seemed to regulate any of this as both visitors and inmates moved freely about on their respective side of the bars.

Meanwhile, our “tour operator” was yelling to an inmate behind the gate and informed us that this was “Manuel” and that he would be our English speaking guide. Manuel smiled and waved and Lisa and I waved back. Beside Manuel stood four men who were to act as our “security guards” and would accompany us throughout the visit and ensure our safety. The big man with the red ball cap was chief in charge of security (the “boss of bosses”) and we were assured that we were in good hands.

None of the inmates wore uniforms nor did our security staff — it turns out they were all inmates anyway.

The four guards at the gate wore uniforms but these were the only officials we met on either side of the bars. There did not appear to be a single official guard inside the prison.

We were escorted into a small visiting room, paid our fee, wrote our names onto a sheet of paper, and assured the official that we did not have a camera. We lied about this as advised by the tour operator and Lisa kept the camera in her pocket until we entered the prison.

As soon as the money was handed over, the guards opened the gate and we stepped into the prison chaos and were met by Manuel and introduced to our security. We all shook hands and Manuel quickly moved us away from the chaotic entrance towards one side of the courtyard. He immediately explained that the dozen inmates hanging out at the gate and yelling back and forth to the visitors were known as “taxis” or “taxistas” and they made money by seeking out inmates throughout the prison who had visitors. Their fee for this service was one Boliviano paid by the visitor which amounted to approximately 12 cents.

We were informed by Manuel that the prison provided little other than food and that inmates had to purchase everything with their own funds including toilet paper, a private cell, pillows, blankets, etc.

I have been in many prisons, mental hospitals, and federal penitentiaries in the course of my studies and work placements. As fascinating as I find these “total institutions”, I always get butterflies in my stomach as I hear the iron gate close behind me. This place made me nervous. There were no officials in sight, we were surrounded by hundreds of inmates moving about, we didn’t speak Spanish, and everything had happened so fast that I was only now beginning to absorb what was going on.

The first thing that calmed my nerves was the fact that almost no one paid any attention to Lisa and I. Here were two tall Canadian gringos milling about a prison with 1500 inmates and hardly anyone gave us a second glance. Everyone seemed busy doing their own business to even take notice.

I also noted that there many women in the prison and many with young children. Manuel explained that wives and children were allowed to live with their husbands inside the prison and that his wife, son, and daughter lived there with him.

Our first stop was at the prison hospital which consisted of several dirty beds in a dingy room. Manuel explained that even hospital care had to be paid for by inmates and those without money didn’t get the medications they needed. We were introduced to the two female nurses who Manuel flirted with. We also later saw other female social workers who visited the prison to work with inmates. These women worked in the institution with no formal security to ensure their safety.

We then moved into the most expensive section of the prison where inmates could purchase a private cell for $2500 for their term in prison. The inmate receives an official “cell title” which confers ownership of the cell much like a title does with one’s own home on the outside.

This particular wing had a large recreation room with weights, pool tables, ping pong tables, soccer tables, and a card table for the Wednesday night poker game. A number of inmates were playing pool while others lifted weights. Manuel pointed out two well built men who were sparring with one another and identified them as the wing bosses. He asserted that they were his friends and protectors. He called out to them and waved and they barely acknowledged him.

Throughout the visit, I gained the impression that Manuel was a relatively low status inmate, largely because he was a heavy cocaine addict. Addicts are not held in high esteem among serious inmates nor are they trusted or viewed as reliable.

Manuel’s eyes were extremely red and he slurred his words and it was becoming increasingly apparent to Lisa and I that our guide was quite stoned. He explained that he has smoked some marihuana before we arrived and that he had not expected to be giving a tour for gringos.

The next most expensive wing of the prison had cells that sold for $1000 to $1500 US. This was a more crowded section with fewer amenities and no gym/games room. In this section, Manuel showed us a “penthouse” suite that had been built by a very rich drug dealer who had earlier spent time in the prison. It was apparent that many home made sections and cells had been added haphazardly to the prison by inmates over time.

The prison was a very crowded place and the overwhelming image for me was the laundry hanging everywhere to dry. Inmates had shirts, t-shirts, pants, socks, and underwear on clothes lines hung across courtyards, on chairs, banisters, doors, door handles, and even over the metal roofing. We passed inmates in all areas of the prison washing their clothes in sinks and laundry tubs. Manuel explained that the prison had a laundry but that it cost money and most inmates washed their own clothes.

We also learned and saw inmate-owned canteens with chocolate bars, chips, writing paper and pens, pop, and even beer for sale. Beer arrived three times a week but was scarce on Mondays, such as this day, because inmates usually partied on the weekends and drank it all.

Inmates also owned and operated private restaurants in the prison for those who could pay, internet service, an outside telephone line, a barber shop, and other services.

Manuel explained that drugs were easily available for those with money and he offered us the opportunity to purchase ganja, cocaine, heroin, or to free-base crack cocaine. We declined, but this didn’t stop him from repeating the offer several times during the tour with assurances that it was okay, safe, and that “everything inside the prison was legal”.

Manuel eventually admitted that his problem was cocaine and that he had an addiction to crack and that he often would free-base when he could afford it. He told us that it was “a bad thing” and that he had to learn to kick the habit for the sake of his wife and children. He also told us that he would frequently stay up all night free-basing crack and would sleep all day. The fact that he was so spaced out led Lisa and I to believe that he had been free-basing all the previous night. Manuel also told us about “crack cat” – an inmate’s cat which was also addicted to the drug.

As we toured the prison, our contingent of four security guards remained close by but every once in a while seemed to disappear — something that made me begin to worry. They would re-appear to my relief and we would move on to the next section. I also noticed that we were being accompanied by an inmate in his mid-50’s in a blue shirt who we had not been introduced to but who was very attentive to our movements and appeared to always be on the lookout for trouble. He was with us throughout the whole visit and was far more alert than any of our security guards. We never did learn who this inmate was and why he accompanied us but I was happy to have him tag along.

Initially, Lisa was discreet taking photos and would ask Manuel each time if it was alright. He always said, “Sure” and soon she was taking photos more openly. The boss of bosses, who didn’t speak English, clearly understood our request for photos and waved with his arms that everything was fine.

Manuel showed us several cells including his own and that of the boss of bosses. Manuel told us that the boss with the red ball cap was a dangerous man and had been the boss of bosses for the last 16 years, He obtained his status by disposing of the previous boss in a manner that was not explained.

The private cells were cramped but comfortable and some included a television with cable, a stereo, bed, reading lamps, table, and other amenities. We were also shown the cell of Thomas MacFadden, the British inmate who originated the prison tours and who had written a book about San Pedro Prison (the book was actually written about MacFadden by Rusty Young, an Australian lawyer who moved into the prison in order to write the book. The book is entitled Marching Powder and is published by MacMillan in 2003 — It‘s a good read).

Inmates who cannot afford to pay for their cells live in very cramped quarters with several sharing the same room and even the same mattress. Manuel explained to us that “in Bolivia, money matters”. I told him that money mattered in any and all countries in the world and that Bolivia was no exception even though the prison system was exceptional.

Manuel brought us up and down narrow stairs through different parts of the prison and most inmates were friendly and would greet us with “Ola” (hello) or simply ignored us and went about their business. We came across women washing and cooking and children playing in various areas of the prison. Manuel explained that men who had wives had their women do all of the work since this was women’s work anyway and the men are lazy or stoned.

Throughout the tour, we were offered crafts made by inmates and Lisa bought a few items (a clear, plastic bracelet with Bolivia written on it for 20 Bolivianos and a little tree made from copper with leaves freshly-painted green for 5 Bolivianos). Inmates even provided change when needed and were genuinely grateful for the business and favours we were doing for them.

On a few occasions, Manuel would tell us that this particular area of the prison was more dangerous but we would proceed forward anyway. The more dangerous areas comprised a higher percentage of crack addicts who were deemed to be unreliable and unpredictable.

On one rooftop stop, we met an inmate armed with a baton and were informed that he was an inmate security official who kept order in his section. He was chosen by other inmates because he was not a drug user and was considered reliable. Manuel confessed that on previous occasions he had been struck on the forearms by a baton and that it had temporarily paralyzed his arms. He didn’t explain what brought on or provoked the incident. His story made me notice the large, partly-healed gash he sported on the upper part of his arm. I didn’t ask him about that either.

Once again we passed the two wing bosses of the richest section of the prison and Manuel patted them on the back. Again they barely acknowledged him, underlining my suspicion that he was not held in high esteem. Manuel is probably one of the few or the only inmate who speaks English and is thus valuable for doing tours with tourists. He learned his English on the street because of his association with gringos who were purchasing or dealing drugs.

Manuel explained that this was his first stay in San Pedro prison but that he had done time earlier in a prison in Santa Cruz. San Pedro prison contained mainly drug users and dealers and only inmates serving from 5 to 30 years. Our boss of bosses was serving 30 years for murder and had completed 16 years to date.

On one swing back towards the entrance, Manuel introduced us to his wife and two children — a four year old son and six year old daughter. Young’s book about San Pedro Prison discusses the murder of a child within the prison and points to the dangers children face living within the walls. After the killing, there was a movement to remove children from the institution but it failed partly because there was no support for families on the outside. Thus, wives and children continue to live within the walls although children leave for school each day and return to the institution afterwards.

In one section of the prison, each of the cells was locked and Manuel explained that these were rented by inmate drug dealers for their clients. Inmates could use these cells to free base cocaine but only if they purchased their drugs from the dealer who rented the cell.

In the disassociation wing (solitary confinement), inmates who had been in trouble were held without contact with others. Manuel informed us that if they had money, they could have drugs smuggled in and he joked that many had more drugs than the other inmates in the prison.

During the tour, we stopped and watched two different soccer games being held in separate courtyards. One area was very small and the ball was played off the wall, doorways, and people sitting around watching. In both games, inmates were aggressive and body checked each other forcefully. The goals were the size of hockey nets with one inmate acting as goaltender.

Many inmates watched the games while others we passed sat around and played cards or other games. At one point, we saw an inmate dunked into a deep square basin of water and emerge soaking wet. Manuel explained that inmates who broke the rules or did something wrong in the eyes of other prisoners were punished this way. He said that often after free basing all night, he failed to get up for the 6:00 am roll call and was dragged there by other inmates and dunked in the water. Afterwards, he would go back to bed for the rest of the day.

Manuel speculated that the inmate who had just been dunked may have done something wrong on the soccer field or that “maybe he let in a bad goal”.

Our visit coincided with lunch at noon and on different wings, inmates hammered on metal pots to tell others that food was being served. Prisoners lined up with large plastic bowls or metal pots and were served huge amounts of rice that appeared to have some meat and plenty of vegetables. Manuel asserted that the food in the prison was excellent and invited us to have some. We declined. He also offered us some prison made rum but we again declined.

At the end of the tour, we were sitting in a cell with the security guards and Manuel explained that the entry fee we had paid went mainly to the officials. He very diplomatically suggested that a tip for himself and our security staff would be gratefully appreciated. Lisa and I agreed and I handed over the last of our Bolivianos which amounted to approximately $25 US dollars.

Everyone appeared to be extremely pleased with our generosity and they all broke out in big smiles. They also agreed to having their photos taken and everybody is grinning from ear to ear in the photo.

I was happy they were happy with the tip and was ready to gain my release from prison. I had been carrying over $600 in US cash along with our Passports, ABM card, and credit cards. I always carried these on my person because I considered it safer than leaving them in our suitcases in our room when we were out and about. It made me nervous, however, carrying them inside the prison among 1500 inmates.

Manuel then led us out to the prison gate where we met his wife and children again and said our goodbyes, Manuel had to hurry off because he had another tour to escort. He seemed even more stoned than earlier and I wondered how he would get through with it.

The officials opened the gate and we stepped by the inmate “taxis” into the entrance way. The guards pulled out the sheet of paper we had signed and checked off our names and we were free to go. Below our names were two other names — presumably the tourists Manuel was now about to guide about San Pedro prison. Outside the prison, I noticed a dozen or more heavily armed police officers who stood across from the entrance. A few more stood about at the end of the street as though on call in the event that there was a problem within the prison. We walked by the prison two days later during a political protest and the police presence around the prison was massive.

And that is the story of our stint in a Bolivian prison.

Fred

Ola! Fred and I have spent an action packed 10 days in the beautiful country of Bolivia. From horseback riding at Lake Titicaca, to visiting the Witches’ Market in La Paz (where they continue to sell herbs, potions and animal fetuses – some to put spells on people – don’t worry, I didn’t buy anything!), witnessing daily protests in La Paz (complete with dynamite being shot up in the air), mountain biking 66 km down the World’s Most Dangerous Road in Corioco, and the last 3 days, 2 nights, travelling by Toyota Landcruiser 4 x 4 with a Swiss couple (Martin 37, and Martina 30), our Bolivian guide (Valerio, 31) and his wife (our cook) and their 3 year old son (which is not allowed by the company that hired him). . . throughout southwestern Bolivia.

There was also a short stint in prison in La Paz that Fred has promised to write a blog about (I’ll keep at him). . . don’t worry mom, we’re out now!

Back to the past 3 days . . . we first met the Swiss couple way back in the Sacred Valley, Peru (it seems like months ago) where we hit it off, and then by happenstance, followed them along the “Gringo Trail” to Hostal La Cupula, Copacabana, Hostal Republica in La Paz, and then again to Hotel Los Graciolos in Uyuni (a budget buster at $90 for a day and a half).

Our bus trip from La Paz to Uyuni was another 10 hour, overnighter, but this time, we managed a “tourist bus” with reclining seats ($30 each). The first 3 hours was on smooth pavement, but the last 7 was on a rough, rocky road. Luckily, I was into my book, and read most of the way. How people can sleep (Fred included) all night going over bumps and around sharp curves is up to me. As day broke (around 5 a.m. here), we carefully squeezed by a transport filled with salt from the salt flats (since we were precariously on the extreme edge of a cliff) as a couple poor guys had their shovels out, actually manually shovelling out salt from the back of the transport.
We continued south to Uyuni, across desert-like topography but with ice-covered streams with heavy mud in areas. There was a local bus stuck in the mud at one crossing, luckily, we made it through.

The town of Uyuni (pop. @14,000) was very indescript (in my opinion), and was just a hopping off point for a tour of the “World’s Largest Salt Flats” (twice the size of Utah). We booked our tour with Martin (a phone technician and fellow heavy metal fan – check out his website at www.myspace.com/cervoholics) and Martina (a florist) and paid for a “private tour” meaning only 4 of us, and not 6 or 7 like most other tour groups. It cost us @ $150 for the three days, which included our transportation, 3 meals a day, use of sleeping bags, and 2l of water each. Also, our “guide” and driver, but he only spoke Spanish so thankfully, Martin/Martina translated for us the important info. This tour also took us eventually across the Bolivian border to the Chilean town of San Pedro Di Atacama.

It was amazing to drive across a blindingly-white path (no roadway distinctions) for about an hour until we came to Isla Pescado. Here, we trekked around the island as our cook prepared a picnic lunch. There were 900 year old cactus, 10 metres high, all over the island. From the top, we had a 360 degree view of the expansive salt flats (I took video – maybe some day I’ll have a strong enough internet connection to download it!). After lunch, it was another few hours through the salt flats to see caves (where mummies were discovered, only 3 years ago), then onto our Salt Hostel. That’s right, bricks made out of salt with doors and beams made from dried cactus plants. Surprisingly, it was warm inside, had about 8 rooms, and we even had our own private bathroom (no hot water though,). Lights out at 9 p.m. – solar energy. Also to our delight, they sold Bolivian beer!

For Day 1 photos: copy and paste this flickr link: http://www.flickr.com/photos/31246690@N05/

We were up and at it early on day 2 after a great sleep in the salt hotel. We drove out of the salt flats and along the Andes (on the Chilean border) for a few hours, stopping along the way to get out and stretch our legs and enjoy the spectacular scenery. For lunch, we enjoyed a picnic on the rocks at Lagoon Hedionda, where our view was thousands of pink flamingos in azure blue water.

We continued along the dirt roadway to a couple of other impressive lagoons, dried salt beds, and on through Desierto de Siloli which reached elevations of 5,000 metres. At one point, we had to get out of the 4 x 4 so the vehicle could make it up a steep and winding mountain. Our final destination was Lagunas (Lagoon) Colorada which was a rich, red colour filled with flamingos. We spent the night in an adobe-like hostal sharing a room with Martin and Martina. Surprisingly, the night wasn’t as cold as we expected, after hearing reports that this area falls well below -20 C at night.

Day 2 photos: http://www.flickr.com/photos/31246690@N05/sets/72157608303425997/

Since we were on a private tour, we didn’t have to get up for the 5 a.m. departure like the other groups in the hostal. We left at a leisurely 9:45 a.m. and headed off to see some very impressive geysers. There would be no way that we would be allowed in Canada/US to get as close to these hot, bubbling waters spraying hot steam – it would definitely be fenced off. From there, we proceeded to enjoy the Hot Springs (45 minutes in plus 33 degree C water), then to the Chilean border where we transferred into a van to take us to the desert town of San Pedro di Atacama.

After our 2 nights at the Casa Corvatsch (a splurge at $80/night – given the fact that we roughed it in the past two nights, no hot water/showers), we spent a day booking our 1.5 hour public bus to the city of Calama, where we will then fly today to Santiago ($190 each – one way, 2 hours), where we will spend the night near the airport to be ready for our early departure tomorrow morning (Oct 24) to the remote, Easter Island (@ 6 hour flight, $780 return each). We will stay on Easter Island for 10 days, heading back to Santiago Nov 3 for another month in South America (one week Chile, 2 weeks Argentina, and one week in Uruguay) before heading to South Africa, Dec. 3.

So, it’s time to go. Check out is at 11 so we’ll have a few hours to shop and eat lunch before heading off. Look for the next blog after Easter Island!

Cheers,

Lisa n Fred

For my fellow Tim McGraw fans: "I was in my early 40's, With a lot of life before me When a moment came that stopped me on a dime . . . What'd we do. . . " We went mountain biking! Fred and I ... [Continue reading this entry]

Hopefully, this works. I have created an account with Flickr which I hope to be able to share our photos. Uploading video and photos has been painfully slow. La Terraza Cafe here in La Paz has a speed of 11.0 ... [Continue reading this entry]

Ola! After an uneventful overnight bus ride and an easy border crossing, (from Cusco, Peru to Copacabana, Bolivia), Fred and I scurried up the hill (as fast as we could carrying all our gear at 3,856 m above sea level) ... [Continue reading this entry]

Avalanches, Rock Slides, and Dynamite! It all began last Saturday night when a group of 6 enthusiastic trekkers met at the SAS Travel Agency in Cusco, Peru for our debriefing on the Salkantay 5-day Trek to Machu Picchu. Fred was already ... [Continue reading this entry]

Ola! After about 38 hours on local buses from Quito to Lima (which cost us $27 each), Fred and I decided to fly into Cuzco direct from Lima ($143 including taxes, each). An hour flight over the Andes on a ... [Continue reading this entry]