Know_files/FINGERPRINTS OF THE GODS.pdf - D Ank Unlimited

Chapter 8
Graham Hancock – FINGERPRINTS OF THE GODS
The Lake at the Roof of the World
La Paz, the capital city of Bolivia, nestles in the uneven bottom of a
spectacular hole in the ground more than two miles above sea level. This
plunging ravine, thousands of feet deep, was carved in some primeval
age by a tremendous downrush of water that carried with it an abrasive
tide of loose rocks and rubble.
Provided by nature with such an apocalyptic setting, La Paz possesses a
unique though slightly sleazy charm. With its narrow streets, dark-walled
tenements, imposing cathedrals, garish cinemas and hamburger bars
open till late, it generates an atmosphere of quirky intrigue which is
oddly intoxicating. It’s hard going for the pedestrian, however, unless
equipped with lungs like bellows, because the whole of the central
district is built up and down the sides of precipitous hills.
La Paz airport is almost 5000 feet higher than the city itself on the edge
of the Altiplano—the cold, rolling uplands that are the dominant
topographical feature of this region. Santha and I landed there well after
midnight on a delayed flight from Lima. In the draughty arrivals hall we
were offered coca tea in little plastic cups as a prophylactic against
altitude sickness. After considerable delay and exertion, we extracted our
luggage from customs, hailed an ancient American-made taxi, and
clanked and rattled down towards the dim yellow lights of the city far
below.
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