San Pedro: La Paz's Black Market
When somebody mentions the expression ‘black market’, what exactly does the imagination conjure up? Back alleys and contraband sold out of car trunks? Knock-off merchandise that does not match the original in quality but will do perfectly, much like purchasing the bleacher seats when you can’t get field level? Are the merchants themselves people you will see once and once only with the secure notion that for the remainder of your lifetime (and most likely his) he will be incarcerated?
Say hello to the black market of La Paz, nested in one of the more ominous neighborhoods of La Paz, San Pedro. And with it, get ready to jettisone any idea you thought you may have had about black markets.
It is a Saturday, and my buddy Alberto picks me up for an afternoon in San Pedro. The mission: get a cellular phone to replace the crappy I-phone that just went kaput. From the Zona Sur where I live, it is at least a half hour drive to the other, poorer, side of town in San Pedro. We keep climbing up hills in his little Ford Fiesta until there’s a sputter and the car comes to a complete halt.
“My bad,” Alberto says in Spanish. “Out of gas”
He hangs a u-turn and guides the car down the hill, where he stops in front of a German car dealership. While he is off to get gas (I remain behind to guard the car), I check out the brand new Beamers, Benzes, and Porsches sparkling inside the shop windows. No black market required there, some brands don't need it. When Alberto returns, we’re back on the road and climb further. Incredible, I’m thinking. We’re already at 12 thousand feet, no? How long before we’ll need to suck on some oxygen? Yet the ascent continues, past the Embassy, and finally we reach Avenida Buenos Aires, according to locals the most dangerous street in town when it comes to criminal statistics.
During the day, the place looks like any other. I see little boys in their torn up clothes carrying their tattered soccer ball home. There are street merchants selling rotisserie chickens, old classic cars and outdated buses weaving through the narrow streets. A kid with nothing on but a torn up Miami Hurricanes shirt sits on a doorstep, working over a lolly. Cholitas carry heavy loads of fruits and vegetables, which they will sell in San Pedro.
Finally a descent as we get off Avenida Buenos Aires. The city in the valley below looks spectacular from where we are. The 21 thousand foot snow-covered Illimani mountain beckons from the distance and looks like it is right at the city’s doorstep. Very fitting to have a view like this from a place named after St. Peter.
San Pedro itself is pure madness. The Black Market here is probably ten by ten blocks with merchants overtly offering their merchandise, the way you would see it in a souk in Morocco or a shopping mall in the States. The merchandise is stacked rows deep into the street, so that the roads quickly become one way. There are furniture stores, kitchen appliances (top brand), flat screen TV’s (again Samsung and Sony), cameras, exercise equipment, musical instruments, you name it. You can call it the largest duty-free shop on the planet.
I actually buy a cell phone, a Samsung, at a good price and later head over to the DVD’s to see what movies they have to offer.
When the sun goes down, we are done shopping for the day. Alberto congratulates us on a job well done. Just what exactly makes this black market so, hmmm…legal? Alberto says that the merchants pay a nominal fee to the government (maybe a tax?) to stay in business, which seems to benefit everybody.
So maybe the black market is not so black.
Say hello to the black market of La Paz, nested in one of the more ominous neighborhoods of La Paz, San Pedro. And with it, get ready to jettisone any idea you thought you may have had about black markets.
It is a Saturday, and my buddy Alberto picks me up for an afternoon in San Pedro. The mission: get a cellular phone to replace the crappy I-phone that just went kaput. From the Zona Sur where I live, it is at least a half hour drive to the other, poorer, side of town in San Pedro. We keep climbing up hills in his little Ford Fiesta until there’s a sputter and the car comes to a complete halt.
“My bad,” Alberto says in Spanish. “Out of gas”
He hangs a u-turn and guides the car down the hill, where he stops in front of a German car dealership. While he is off to get gas (I remain behind to guard the car), I check out the brand new Beamers, Benzes, and Porsches sparkling inside the shop windows. No black market required there, some brands don't need it. When Alberto returns, we’re back on the road and climb further. Incredible, I’m thinking. We’re already at 12 thousand feet, no? How long before we’ll need to suck on some oxygen? Yet the ascent continues, past the Embassy, and finally we reach Avenida Buenos Aires, according to locals the most dangerous street in town when it comes to criminal statistics.
During the day, the place looks like any other. I see little boys in their torn up clothes carrying their tattered soccer ball home. There are street merchants selling rotisserie chickens, old classic cars and outdated buses weaving through the narrow streets. A kid with nothing on but a torn up Miami Hurricanes shirt sits on a doorstep, working over a lolly. Cholitas carry heavy loads of fruits and vegetables, which they will sell in San Pedro.
Finally a descent as we get off Avenida Buenos Aires. The city in the valley below looks spectacular from where we are. The 21 thousand foot snow-covered Illimani mountain beckons from the distance and looks like it is right at the city’s doorstep. Very fitting to have a view like this from a place named after St. Peter.
San Pedro itself is pure madness. The Black Market here is probably ten by ten blocks with merchants overtly offering their merchandise, the way you would see it in a souk in Morocco or a shopping mall in the States. The merchandise is stacked rows deep into the street, so that the roads quickly become one way. There are furniture stores, kitchen appliances (top brand), flat screen TV’s (again Samsung and Sony), cameras, exercise equipment, musical instruments, you name it. You can call it the largest duty-free shop on the planet.
I actually buy a cell phone, a Samsung, at a good price and later head over to the DVD’s to see what movies they have to offer.
When the sun goes down, we are done shopping for the day. Alberto congratulates us on a job well done. Just what exactly makes this black market so, hmmm…legal? Alberto says that the merchants pay a nominal fee to the government (maybe a tax?) to stay in business, which seems to benefit everybody.
So maybe the black market is not so black.
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