into Bolivia 10-12 Feb

Wed 10th
Up at 6 (again) we got a taxi to the terminal terrestre (the bus station) to get our 7:30am bus to La Paz. We had bought tickets for a grand looking bus with toilet facilities aboard but what we got was a mini bus and all our bags went onto the roof under an ill fitting tarp. One of the passengers that got to sit in the front was some sort of reporter for a Peruvian radio station so we got a running commentary of some of the places that we passed through as he spoke to his radio station by mobile phone or made videos on a hand held video camera. It was quite interesting to listen to but not of any real worth for the blog. It was all about how the mayor of a town we were going through was murdered for his political beliefs or how this town was known for its church; and we got a few detours into villages on the way as the driver showed him some of the sights! I'm glad we had decided not to drive as there was about 20 miles of absolutely hideous road and the rest of it wasn't very nice either. We wiggled along the edge of Lake Titicaca with a few fairly hairy overtaking manouvers on sharp bends or the brows of hills but luckily no incidents. It seems that the local government has been giving out 'dunnies' as every house seemed to have a little blue corrigated iron one with a white chimney, it all looked very odd amongst the adobe and thatched roof buildings! There were also loads of places with fish farms and people rowing around standing in their little wooden boats. And then there it was, the fronteir, basically just a chain across the road, and we were dumped unceremoniously by the road and our bags pulled of the roof and off the driver went without telling us where or what we were to do.
We found our way through the Peruvian immigration and then past the chain in the road for a 30m or so walk through no man's land (I suppose) until we reached a stone arch which marked the entrance into Bolivia. Bolivian immigration was clearly signposted and easy for us but some of our fellow travellers found that they had to pay $55 US for visas, but after that we didn't know where to go, where was our bus to continue our journey?
Eventually, after a lot of asking, we found a minibus that said he was our bus to Copacabana about 8km further down the road where we would get our 'big' bus to La Paz, however there wasn't enough room for all of us and even though we said not everyone was present he drove away anyway. When we got to Copacabana we were informed that there was a strike on and that the roads had been blocked with stones by people protesting about the government policy on petrol prices (which they had just announced were rising again). So there was nothing for it but to find somewhere to stay and wait out the strike.
We had planned to stop off in Copacabana on our return to Peru to visit the Isla del Sol, the Island of the Sun, the most important place for the Inca and pre Incan civilisations because it was there that the sun was born; the father of their people. So we decided to do our trip to the island whilst we were there. Fortunately I had some dollars on me and had been to the bank in Puno before we left so I also had some Peruvian Soles to exchange for Bolivianos, because there is no cash machine in Copacabana and the one bank will allow you to take money on your credit card but charges you loads for the privalege. Still, our money situation was quite tight so we found a cheap hotel and then wandered the streets to see what the town had to offer.
The town could have been really nice with its veiws of the lake and its sandy beach but the place was full of rubbish and the streets smelt of urine, the only place that really looked pleasant/clean was the cathedral and its square. The doors had amazing carvings, the ceiling was like some sort of grand spider's web, the pulpit was highly decorated and the altar was another of those over the top, but quite incredible, Catholic monstrousities (sp?). Some of the carvings didn't look Catholic at all, nor indigenous, there were some heads on the altar that looked like some sort of Greek myth character, and one of the stain glassed windows had the Bolivian sheild on it which I thought was quite strange in a church. As we left the church through the front entrance (we had come in through the side) the priest arrived in his sun hat; that amused me. Opposite the entrance was a little park with carved stones depicting Incan or preIncan god like symbols and there were loads of people selling candles, religious pictures and offerings in little stalls.
We returned to the hotel and drank Coca tea; Celso is still suffering with headaches from the altitude; I have no headache but I do find myself exhausted by even the smallest uphill slope; Tristan seems to be the least affected but he says he does notice that he is more out of breath than usual.
We bought tickets to the Isla del Sol for the next morning and then found a great little Mexican restaurant. It was run by one guy with no help at all, so he took orders and then disappeared as he cooked, so it was all very slow but he had loads of games and cards to keep people occupied and the seats were covered in Alpaca fur so it was all very warm and cozy compared to the cold, dry air outside. We had great Nachos and Buritos and then returned to our hotel to sort out our bags so that we would only need to take one backpack to the island.
Thurs 11th
Up early (again) we ate bread and jam in the hotel; left one large and one small backpack in the hotel lock-up (complete with squashed, dead mouse on the floor) and then went down to the docks to get our 8:30am boat to the North end of the Isla del Sol. There seemed to be no limit to the number of passengers that they would take on the boat, we just all crammed in. Amazingly we left on time, but then we went back to pick up some late comers! Our boat had everyday metal chairs that had been crudely screwed into a floor that looked like it had been made from packing cases, some of the windows were ill fitted or simply not there and there were 4 lifejackets for about 40 passengers, about 30 inside and the rest sitting on the roof. One of the two outboard motors wasn't working so we made slow progress (and were passed by two other boats) out to the island. One of the late comers then said that he wanted to go to the south end of the island instead of the north so we had to make a detour into the bay to drop him off and then an islander made a boat to boat crossing with all her goods wrapped in brightly coloured cloths to a boat that came out to meet her. And so we arrived at the North end of the island with sore bums from the terrible chairs and later than we should have due to all the above. A local man then rushed us to buy our tickets that gave us permission to enter some of the sites on the island and kept hounding us because we had arrived late. It was all very exhausting at this altitude and we all needed a wee after our 2.5 hours on the boat! We visited a little museum that had some of the cermaic artifacts (the gold ones have been taken to La Paz) found from the earliest culture known on the island called the Tiwanaku, 1500BC to around 800AD. They were found in 1968 by Jacques Coustea when he found a submerged temple about 10m down off the edge of the island that had been completely covered as the water level rose, it must have happened pretty suddenly since they left all the goodies there!
Then we walked across the beach and up to the top of the hill (exhausting) to a sacraficial table and a sacred rock called Titicaca in the local language (the rock is Titicaca (puma rock) not the lake, the lake is pachamama - mother water, our guide was unable to tell us who or why the lake was given the name Titicaca). Llamas were sacrificed at the sacraficial table in front of the sacred rock that has the head of a puma and the face of one of their gods - Viracocha on it. This is the site were the sun was born, and then he formed a union with Pachamama to give birth to the Tiwanaku people (and later the Incas who took over the island in the 1400s). Near to the site is a Labarynth Temple built by the Tiwanaku and guarded by 30 priests who administered the holy waters from a sacred spring within the temple (that we were allowed to wash our hands and faces in once we had made a tribute of Coca leaves); they also performed the sacrifices and other rituals during the soltaces and equinoxes. Once we had all put our hands on to the sacred rock; to be filled with energy; we were left to go our own ways, some back to the boat to be driven (or in the case of our boat, phutted, very slowly) to the south end of the island, some to walk the 7km along a sacred Inca path that lead from the temple of the sun (in the south) to the Tiwanaku sacred area (in the North).
We stopped and ate freshly cooked chips from a little trolley on the top of the hill! Everyone else that was walking went on their way and out of sight, then we started the walk with the trail, the island, the lake and the sky to ourselves. It was a tough walk, only 7km but up and down over rough ground and sometimes stone paths, with the intensely dry air and constant dry wind but fortunately not too much sun as it was fairly overcast. In the distance, at the edge of the lake, we could see thunderstorms with amazing lightening bolts and we were entertained by various birds; some plover like birds who were perfectly camouflaged in the rocky, scrubby landscape, but who squealed at us angrily as we passed so that we could find them, silly things; a cuckoo like bird and lots of little sparrows with reddy orange scarves and top knots. Tristan managed to spot several skinks that skuttled off the path in front of us, but I was bringing up the rear and failed to spot even one! The path kept to the high part of the island but amazingly there were still a couple of houses along it and people suddenly appeared selling ceramics and knitwear in the middle of nowhere. About half way along the trail we were asked for 5 Bolivianos each, a trail maintenance fee, by a woman in the middle of nowhere, no shelter, no visible sign of anywhere she might live, but with official tickets - all very mysterious.
Finally we started to descend into the village at the south end of the island, perched on top of the hill, we were charged another 5 Bolivianos each to enter the village and then were accosted by a young boy who wanted to help us find lodging. We checked out a few places, all very basic and with not very nice bathrooms until we settled on one with a great view, a large bedroom and a flushing loo (shared with everyone else in the place though, about 8 other people).
We managed to arrange for Tris to get a donkey ride (he's been dying to do it since we arrived, loads of donkeys carry things here and there on the island as there are no motorized vehicles at all), and then we went into a small restaurant to get a well deserved meal. The views all around were fantastic, huge snow capped mountains on the Bolivian side and huge stretches of water on the Peruvian side, over which we saw yet another fantastic sunset, and then later, after it was dark, we watched more fantastic lightening, dancing behind the clouds and occasionaly cracking down to earth on the edges of the lake.
Tristan did some maths by candlelight and then we washed our teeth and weed in the back garden rather than brave the shared loo and went to bed.
At 3 in the morning Tris and I were woken by Celso who was doing some sort of native dancing around the room, he would crouch down here, then jump up, cross the room and do the same again. He said he could hear something and a few minutes later I heard it too, a tiny pitter pattering, like rain on the window, but it was in the room. The light came on and Celso started his strange dance again, placing a shoe here, looking in the bin, running round the bed and crouching down. He caught it in my boot, a little mouse; Tristan wanted a look before he was to be dumped outside; but as Celso opened up the boot out the mouse leapt onto Celso's arm and away he scampered behind him. And so the dance started again until once again the boot became the mouse's prison and he was liberated in the great outdoors.
Fri 12th
We awoke quite late and Celso, who had been unable to sleep after the mouse excitement, just couldn't wake up, so I left the boys snoozing and went out for a wander to try to find the Inca Temple of the Sun ruins. I got some directions and followed a path down through a grove of Eucalyptus trees to a path that headed out to the southern peninsula. The path went down and down and then split in 2, one heading further down and one climbing up. It would be easy to go down but then the walk back would be horrid. If I went up and that was wrong then that would have been a great effort too. I gave up; sat and looked and looked at the view out over the lake to Isla de la Luna (Moon Island). This island is where the Inca Temple of the Virgins was situated, the Tiwanaku and other early cultures did not practice human sacrifice but when the Inca arrived they built the temple on Moon Island to house young girls who would be sacrificed on special occassions. When I returned to the hostel the boys were still abed and not up and packing as they had promised so it was all a bit of a rush to pack, eat breakfast and get down to the docks in time for the boat back to Copacabana. The steep steps down to the dock were Inca built and half way down we found a lovely cool fountain to wet our foreheads. It was bad enough going down the steps, I can't imagine how awful it must be to have to climb up them!
Our boat service was run by the islanders and there was absolutely no limit to how many passengers they were allowing on. Down both sides of the boat there were benches (with a slight cushion covering this time), these seats quickly filled and rucksacks were loaded between. It started to rain and yet more and more people were crammed into the boat, bags on top of bags, people sitting on the floor and then some finally accepting that no more could squeeze inside so they sat up on the roof huddled in blankets. This boat, too, had windows missing and the rain dripped in down the backs of the unfortunates who were sitting below them, the wind howled in and lightening flashed in the distance. Off we chugged into the choppy waters with the locals not wasting a minute, some were sewing, one was thinning out her wool, she wrapped it around some sort of wooden device that she spun between her fingers then left hanging as she pulled out the thread; this process was then repeated and repeated until the thread was thin and twisted. There was a fine display of hats and coloured clothing and bundles on display that I hope I caught in some photos I took. We passed the Inca temple to the sun ruins that were not at all impressive as most of the stones have been robbed away, so I don't feel so bad about missing it this morning!
Finally we reached Cocacabana and went to retrieve our rucksacks from the dead mouse storage room in the hotel. Then we had to climb four blocks to where the buses left for La Paz. Again our bus was not what had been promised (no loo) but our driver was fairly sensible and safe and we stopped firstly for a small ferry ride and then for a rest break later on so the 4.5 hour trip was fairly relaxing and comfortable. Again we wound our way around lake Titicaca, the houses and the countryside looked unchanged from that around the lake in Peru. When we descended into the town of Tiquina to make our ferry crossing we had to pay 1.5Bs each (about 21c or 13p)to be ferried across to the other side in little motor boats whilst the bus was taken on very rickety looking wooden boats with outboard motors. (The ferry crossing saves about a 100km drive around the edge of a bay of lake Titicaca.) We all boarded again and were on our way arriving in La Paz at around 5.30pm. We had a flyer for a hostel that Tristan had picked up in Puno and since we knew of nowhere else we asked a taxi to take us there. We ended up in the heart of the old city in a road with a market in and an impossible number of people and cars all vying for the same space. It is carnival tomorrow and the whole world and his wife were out buying costumes, water pistols, spray foam, flowers and offerings.
The hostel was not very salubrious but we decided to get a room, leave our stuff and then go out and scout around for some other places to stay for another couple of nights. We managed to avoid being badly squirted with water and foam, found a nicer hostel which we will move into tomorrow and then wandered around looking for somewhere to eat. We stumbled across a little Moroccan restaurant in a cobbled back street and ate the most delicious food since we left Ecuador, fantastic soup, juicy stews, chicken in potato with a sour cream like dip and cous cous. Fantastic after the dry food that both Peru and Bolivia seem to offer, just rice and potatoes and meat or fish, no stews, sauces or gravies, everything so dry. We returned to our grotty room and tried to sleep but the fiesta seemed to be starting and the hooting of cars below us in the street went on all night, along with the shouting of drunks and the load engines of buses. Crazy.