We had heard a lot about "Lucha Libre" (free combat) and that's why we stayed 2 days longer in La Paz. These fights take place every Sunday and are a great attraction for both locals and tourists alike. We decided to find the place ourselves and buy our tickets from there, as it is cheaper. Another option was to pay to one of the many agencies and get everything ready. Most foreigners choose this option. We found the place where the fighting took place. We asked about the price of the tickets and whether we could buy them in advance. One ticket cost 12 Bolivianos, and when you buy it from 80 Bolivianos! It was strange that tickets were purchased just before Lucha Libre was launched.
Here it is already Sunday and Plamen and I are waiting in the ticket queue. We asked the locals just in case: What is the price? And the answer was the same - 12 Bolivianos. Not long after, a woman with tickets in hand appeared. First, he turned to me and Plamen, and then to two other foreigners, saying that tickets cost 50 Bolivianos for us, and that is the only option we have. We sent her away with ease to go, making sure that she was lying and wanted to deceive us. We were very angry! It is our turn. We look in the window from where the tickets are bought and we see the same brazen woman giving us "different tickets" for 50 bolivianos. We said we wanted to buy these for 12, and that we were no different than Bolivians. No, no and no! It was impossible! Are you a foreigner, paying more for a ticket and that's it! "Full discrimination! Racists! ”Was our response to the woman. Behind us were mothers and daughters who disagreed with what they saw. We asked if they would buy us tickets and they agreed. We both hate Plamen when people are divided into rich and poor, foreigners and locals, and that's exactly what happened before our eyes! It was disgusting!
We slowly made our way to the entrance of the hall to the guy checking the tickets. He took such important papers and released us. It was at this point that the naked woman appeared and said that with these tickets we could not enter the hall. We will not hide - a scandal ensued! No one could answer our questions: "What are we different from Bolivians? Why are you sure that all foreigners are drenched in money? "
Just at that moment another ugly sight opened up before us. For us foreigners, plastic chairs were laid just in front of the ring, and the Bolivians stood on cement stairs. This "incredible ticket" included popcorn, Coke and a souvenir. For the hundredth time, we reiterated that we do not want any of the above, but just sit down with the locals and watch the show. We were obviously talking on the wall! It was impossible and we felt terrible! That was probably the biggest discrimination we've seen and ever witnessed! After all the hassle, our 40 Bolivianos tickets were reduced to the length of our mouth. We bought them and went where we wanted - to the Bolivians. We stood on the cement, our bodies froze, but we stood by ours and what we think.
The fighting began, and with that all the nerves we had lost had evaporated. We were completely immersed in the show, which I must admit was unique! We thought the fight would only be between women, but we were wrong. To our surprise, men would fight. The fight between the strong sex resembled the ketchup we watched when we were kids. It had everything. Knocking, choking, crashing, suplexing, jolting, drinking a Coke and spitting in your opponent's face and more! The interesting thing was that all the Bolivians were enjoying themselves in what was happening and were throwing replicas at the kechists. And the kids were big cuties! They believed everything that was happening before their eyes, and after the fighting, they ran impatiently with their notebooks, demanding autographs and taking pictures with the stars.
After this "warm-up" part, the real show began - "Cholitas Ketch" (women's fight). We had heard that women were "grinding", but what we saw exceeded our expectations. Keychains dressed in traditional Bolivian clothes were shaking in the ring as well as outside. They were stepping up and banging on doors and steel columns all over the hall! They were grabbing their hair, they were plucking, spitting, and more. Some of them even threw their opponents at the front row tourists. The audience had pets that he supported. Others were scooped with juices, food, sandwiches, peanuts, popcorn, bottles, paper and everything else at hand. Plamen and I laughed and couldn't believe what was happening in front of us. The melee was massive! There was also a judge who actively participated in the ketch. When he had to count to three instead of counting, he just kicked the women on the heads or back. The whole hall burst into laughter. Of course, a real ketch cannot go without breaking chairs on the opponent's heads. Plastic chairs and crates swept across the hall, testing their strength on one's head.
All this show, which the locals were relentlessly enjoying, brought us into the world of ketch with many tears of laughter! A show we will never forget!
It follows: A white fairy tale without end - Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia
