Lake Titicaca to La Paz, Bolivia.

After leaving Cuzco I traveled with a British friend from my Salkantay trip, Greg to Puno, on the Peruvian side of Lake Titicaca. Our bus to Puno left from Cuzco at 10 pm and we arrived in Puno at 4:30 am. I have never been so cold in my life. The bus was freezing and the reclining mechanism on my seat wan´t working so well so it was either straight up, or reclining so far i was in the lap of the person behind me, which didn´t endear me to them so much. Greg and I finally arrived at our hotel around 6am and crashed. I was so cold I was in my bed, in my 10 degree sleeping bag, under 2 wool blankets and a comforter, in my thermals with gloves, hat and socks on. I finally drifted off into the sleep of the truly cold and deprived, only to be awoken by someone pounding on our door. I decided that if I pretended I was asleep long enough Greg would get up from his bed and answer, although I knew in the end I would have to get up anyway. Indeed Greg answered the knock, which was to tell us that our tour was there to pick us up to go to the Floating Islands on Lake Titicaca. We scrambled to get ready and rushed out to the waiting van, then went off to pick up the others joining the tour, all of which had been on our bus the night before.

Out on a boat through algae filled waters that coated the top of the lake with a lime green hue and stacked up thickly against the reeds. It looked like a huge pond, rather than a renouned lake from this view and our boat took us further out until we could spot buildings, houses and boats out among the reeds. The islands were indeed floating and we emerged from the swamp-like passage into a huge bay created by different floating island communities. The islands are created by stacking loads and loads of reeds measuring about 10-12 feet tall atop one another over the course of a year to create an island about the size of a basketball court, some larger. The islands reed base ends up being about 8-12 feet thick and is continually maintained by piling more reeds on top as the ones below erode away organically. Impressive, but these peoples too have been highly tourised and their lives sold to the coin of the traveler in an effort to gain more, like cable TV, internet, and electricity by way of solar power.

Glad we had only scheduled a half-day tour, Greg and I made it back to our hotel around 1pm, and slept till early evening, went out and ate then returned and slept again, bracing ourselves for the 6:30am wake-up to catch the 7:30 bus to Copacabana, on the Bolivian side of Lake Titicaca, where we would visit the Isla del Sol, where it was said the gods of the Incans had rose from the lake and birthed the Incan people, and where more Incan ruins remained.

3 hours and a short boarder crossing later where i recieved my much coveted Bolivian stamp in my passport, we arrived in Copacabana, a small fishing villiage nestled on a small bay with a huge crag hill looming up on the eastern shore, with some sort of Catholic monument at the top. We were ushered to a great hotel for a mere $4.50 a night we had private rooms on the 3rd floor with a view of the bay, hot showers and bathrooms that supplied both toilet paper and soap, completely unheard of in these parts.

We had added Luka, a nice cheery guy from Italy to our group and we all retired to our rooms after lunch for a bit of our own time. I hiked the hill to the east to find the Via de las Cruces (Way of the Crosses) a monument to a saint that had been installed in this town almost a hundered years ago, and upon installation a wave of miracles had swept the town, and this was the monument that had been created, a stairway to the top, marked by crosses every so often and culminated with a row of 7 huge towering crosses at the top honoring different saints.

The next day we set out for Isla del Sol where I went off on my own, after being dropped at the southern end of the island I trekked across the rocky desert hill climbs and trail that ran along the ridgeline for 2 hot, windblown hours until I finally reached the Incan ruins. Hiking was strenuous, not because it was a difficult track, but because we were just shy of 4,000 meters/ 12,000 ft by only 100-70 feet at all times depending on the hill. Upon arriving at the ruins I was able to tour and climb, unhindered through the walls of this ancient villiage that lay overlooking a bay below with white sand beaches and dark turquiose water. Shortly before the villiage was the stone alter, much like the one pictured in the Narnia movie that Aslan was sacrificed on. Only here young virgin girls had been the sacrifices to the gods of the Incans and an air of heaviness surrounded the site. On the nearby Isla de la Luna the ruins of a convent house illustrated how virgin girls were kept close by, then boated over to appease the gods with thier pure blood. Heavy.

Upon leaving the site I was joined by Mat from Britain. It was great to have some company across the way back and I ended up getting a room where he and his traveling companion, Lucy were staying. We all went for the most delicous hot meal of soup, fresh trout (the regional delicacy), rice and fresh fried potatoes, which was capped off with a small bowl of fruit with chocolate sauce. We were all whipped from the trek and retired to our rooms.

I woke with the sun, well actually around 8 am, had some breakfast, turned in my key and made my way to the boat dock to purchase my ticket back to Copacabana. While waiting I met Henry, another British guy, who had just come from La Paz as well and just like Mat and Lucy, had lots of helpful information on where to go, what to do and where to stay.
We finally arrived in Copacabana, I collected my things that Greg had generously kept for me at the hotel, looked for Greg and Luka to see what their plans were, and when I couldn´t find them booked a bus to La Paz that would leave at 1:30. I went to a pub and watched the beginning of the World Cup game of Germany and Costa Rica, but left at halftime to baord my bus. Greg found me just as I was boarding, and asked what, where I was going, I tried to explain that I couldn´t find him, and was hurridly ushered onto the bus without a sorry or a good explination or even plans to meet. On the bus I sat next to an Ecuadorian hombre, who was a guide for a three-country trek and impressed myself, and perhaps him as well by carrying on a conversation in Spanish for a half hour!! Bravo!

We finally arrived in La Paz which is a huge city also built at the bottom of a huge valley with hills rising even more steeply than those in Cuzco, completely blanketed with houses and buildings all the way to the top. When we went to disembark I found Emma, a girl from Britain(yet again) who had the same hostal reccommendation that I did and was traveling alone as well. We shared a cab, and upon arrival to the hostel, a room as well, as all the dorm accommodations were full. She is great. We met up with a girl Brie and her mom, whom Emma had known from her Inca Trail hike, at the Radisson in La Paz for a taste of unprecidented luxury. Brie has been in the far reaches of Bolivia working with the Peace Corp. for the last 2 years and here mom was here for a visit. We enjoyed a fantastic meal on the top floor restaurant that gave an incredible view of the city as the lights of the buildings climbed the sides of the hills around us. Our meal was excellent, the quality, service and presentation that would cost at least $80 per person in the States, left us only $10 dry. Emma and I proceeded back to our hostel via taxi and set ourselves to sleep in after weeks of schedules and reasons to wake early.

La Paz has the busyness and excitement of New York, with street vendors selling anything and everything on the sidewalk, students and businessmen walking to and from their places and the smell of bacon from some street-side eatery penetrating everything.