On occasion, geography offers up some profoundly useful glitches. Other times, with skill and ingenuity, humankind turns that geography into an asset. And in the case of the park bench that stars in this story, you’d swear the hand of God intervened purely for the people’s enjoyment. In Plaza Abaroa, in La Paz’s posh Sopocachi neighborhood, an anonymous structure has existed for years, used by Bolivian citizens to smoke weed outdoors, communally.
Popularly known as “Banco Pipa” (“Pipe Bench”) or “Banca Comunal” (“Communal Bench”), a particular park bench became a rite of passage for a bunch of young people into the wonderful world of weed. There, for hundreds of afternoons and eves, university students, executives from large companies, lawyers, engineers, and responsible adults would gather to light up a joint on one end and catch the smoke on the other. Hence, the name “Pipe Bench”. That’s also why it was called “Communal Bench”: because unless you’re as bendy as Fantastic Four’s Reed Richards, you always needed someone else’s help to use it properly.
“What is the ‘Pipe Bench’? It was one of those old park benches, not one of the modern ones, that had crossbars. And in one of those bars, they had made a little hole to smoke who knows what,” explains TikToker Edu Torrico, while calling for “a moment of silence” for the little bench.
“Some friends took me to that bench, showed me how it worked, and then it became very normal for me to go there. Even though I got into the habit of smoking my own pipe, I still miss it. When they renovated the plaza and took it away, it felt like losing a friend,” says Pietro, a local barista and a regular at the famous (if now defunct) “Pipe Bench.”
No one knows when or how this cornerstone of La Paz’s 420 culture began, but we do know when its reign ended: three years ago, when the place was renovated. “My last spot was five years ago, when I got my first pipe,” Pietro continues, with a touch of nostalgia. With saudade, as Brazilians say.
For instance, Bolivian law classifies marijuana as a prohibited drug, just like cocaine, and punishes possession (even of a single gram) with prison sentences of 10 to 25 years. However, the “Pipe Bench” survived clandestinely and with absolute discretion for years. “Discreet,” we say, even though it was located in the middle of a public square, within one of La Paz’s most upscale neighborhoods. But even then, those who frequented it passed the info among like-minded individuals, with little regard for the law.
“I never knew how it started, but I was always grateful that it existed. The crazy thing is that you couldn’t use it alone. You always needed another person. It was a communal thing, about sharing with others,” says our stoner Pietro.
Some reasons for its demise: despite being a plaza teeming with young people and students, and also a popular gathering place for skaters and other wheeled athletes, Plaza Abaroa is located just steps away from important public buildings such as the Ministry of Defense, the Departmental Electoral Court, the Presidential Palace, and (get this!) an Integrated Police Station (EPI), posing a rather obvious dilemma for our pot-smoking brethren.
In fact, nowadays, this space is often at the center of daily political discussions, as it’s where citizens’ protests and rallies usually take place. “Today, almost nobody goes there. Many go to University Park or Plaza Olivia. The people who used to come to smoke at Banco Pipa have moved to other plazas,” Pietro explains. Those who frequented the plaza say that “nowadays, it’s not such a private place; it’s more open, you’re more exposed. And since the police station is right there, you risk spending a couple nights in a cell.”
Nowadays, Plaza Abaroa welcomes tourists looking for typical La Paz postcards, and small concerts and open-air markets are also held there. “I’m still looking for a place like that, and so far I haven’t found anything like it anywhere else,” Pietro laments. Meanwhile, the skaters continue to smoke weed, a bit more discreetly, and still yearn for the mythic presence of that plaza bench, which was more than just a bench… It was a friend.
