La Paz turned out to be a beautiful city with a huge and busy market where Shurik almost got pickpocketed; very political street art not only in form of highway side graffiti, but also on huge canvases displayed in public parks; and even something called the Witches Market, which turned out to be quite disappointing since, apart from bunches of dried up frogs and lama fetuses, it did not differ from any other market we have seen in South America so far.
La Paz is about 3600m high, so it was cold enough to throw a sweater on, but far from it feeling like the usual New Years Eve both me and Shurik have been spending for the past four years in Boston. We met on New Years 2001, on a ski trip that I was not even supposed to be on, and ever since we've been gathering our friends and going on similar skiing trips to celebrate among other things our anniversary. To say the least, New Years Eves have never been quiet for us. This time was definitely different. We were miles away from our friends and had no party plans for the evening when Jurgen, our German travel buddy, suggested we go have the most expensive meal in town in a five star hotel -- The Plaza. Well, after miles and miles of bus rides, islands, ruins, and markets Jurgen's proposition sounded just like what the doctor ordered.
That evening we dressed up as much as our limited wardrobe allowed and set off to The Plaza to have a $12 dinner, complete with champagne, in a fancy dining hall on the eighteenth floor of the hotel with a panoramic view of La Paz. Fortunately, the view did not disappoint. Even before the clock stroke twelve, we could see small fireworks flash from every corner of the city. It was an unusual site, well at least for us it was. The fireworks displays we saw before in the States were shows organized by the city where each blast is coordinated with light and sound. Here, from the eighteenth floor, La Paz looked like a stormy sea of colorful lights emerging from just about everywhere there was a roof.