Inside San Pedro Prison

The main entrance to San Pedro (photo courtesy of the BBC)

The gringos serving time in San Pedro say it's more like a hostel than a prison. And when you're inside their section, which is set apart from the general population, you could almost buy that.

Things are a little run down, but that's no different from most hostels. Their rooms are comfortable, if a little cramped. They have internet access, telephones, a small library, a gym and a sunny courtyard that's always full of people chatting, playing cards or reading books. They can buy beer and whiskey, hamburgers and chips, order takeaway, invite friends to visit and even bring in prostitutes for the night. There are no guards on patrol and no lights out. But there are still gates. And they shut firmly behind you when you enter. Unlike us, many of these guys won't leave for very long time.

"This is my fifth prison," says our guide, Stuart. "It's the best one. If you're going to do time somewhere, I could think of worse places."

Stuart's from Zimbabwe. He's a short, slightly built man, with long red hair and a swollen, discoloured nose from years of alcohol abuse. In a former life, he was a jockey. Now he's a drug smuggler, awaiting sentencing in Bolivia's largest prison. He was caught trying to smuggle cocaine out of La Paz in wooden picture frames. The picture frames were meant to have been soaked in a chemical for four weeks. According to Stuart, this is a sure-fire way to keep the sniffer dogs away. "But my packer only soaked them for three weeks, so they found the cocaine and I ended up here," he says matter-of-factly. He's facing a 15-year term but he's banking on Bolivian inefficiency to get him out.

"The Bolivians have to sentence me before the 9th of July, and if they don't I'm a free man," he says. "I can walk right out of here."

Stuart takes us on a short tour, giving us the ins-and-outs of prison life. Inmates in San Pedro have to buy their own cells when they enter. Some people buy extra cells, which they use as investments or shops. In this section, the cheapest cell goes for $US400, the most expensive $US40,000.

A well-dressed, softly spoken Columbian man owns the most expensive cell. It's three storeys, with a kitchen, cable TV and a view of the city. It's not flash but it's the best digs you can get in San Pedro. The owner is serving a 25-year sentence. He was a big hitter. A Columbian drug baron, caught with a plane full of drugs.

A few doors down is a young Canadian guy. He was caught with one gram of cocaine in a hotel, and is serving a six month sentence. A few doors down from him, a prisoner lives with his wife and five children. His wife runs the main store in this part of the prison and the kids leave the prison every afternoon to go to a nearby school.

A well-dressed middle aged man walks by, and Stuart tells us that he was a police officer, until he was caught holding up an armed vehicle holding $US1.5 million. He's now the most important person in this section, acting as the middle man between the prisoners and the Colonel who runs the prison.

We meet a young south African guy whose been in for three months. He won't say what he did and he hasn't been sentenced. He talks to his family regularly, but hasn't told them he's in prison. He's hoping to get out in a few months and pass the period off as an extended holiday. Fransisco is from Portugal. His girlfriend has just moved into his cell.

This is where we end up at the end of the tour, drinking beer and chatting. If you want, you can also buy a half a gram of cocaine for 20 bolivianos (about £1.50) or a joint for 10 bolivianos (£0.75).

Ironically, drugs are freely available in San Pedro. There are factories inside the main section, churning out some of the world's purest cocaine. During the day, the gringos send a runner to get supplies from the general population. At night, little white parcels are flung through gaps in the wall separating the two sections.

After a few hours, we say goodbye and head for the gate. Without thinking, we wish Stuart luck with his July 9 deadline. We collect our passports from the guards, and walk out. The gates clang behind us. We're free.

*To get a better feel for life in the prison, pick up a copy of Marching Powder by Rusty Young. The gringos inside the prison will tell you that the book is 20% true and 80% bullshit, but it makes for a good read regardless.