Bolivia

It was early and I had to pee. I stumbled through the dark and wound my way down the tight stairwell to take care of business. When I was done I took my seat. Not more than five minutes later, we had stopped. Had I known we were making a bus transfer in Puno rather than going straight to Copacabana, I would have held back. Bus bathrooms stink.

The wait in Puno lasted just over two hours and the sun was slowly rising over Lake Titicaca. I walked to the edge of the lake but could barely hold myself as it smelled like Peruvian sewage. The border crossing went fine (my first land crossing of the trip) but when we arrived in Copacapana, it was clear I was the only one who wanted to stay.

After a long walk, and a few misdirections, we found our hostel. Shortly thereafter, we went in search of some cash. In Bolivia’s Copacabana, there are two machines. If your cards don’t work at either of them, you’re basically fucked. Sadly, Andrew’s didn’t work at either and he was already fed up with this town. Assuming the machines were just out of cash, I didn’t bother. By now, Andrew had basically made up his mind. He was leaving on the first bus out of here in the morning.

On our search of a potential other ATM (which proved fruitless), we ran into a group of people I had met back in Cusco & Machu Picchu. I joined them while Andrew went in search of something more. After a long and boisterous lunch we decided to climb the hill that overlooked the town. It was only now that I made an actual attempt at the ATM’s. My card worked and, unlike everyone else I knew in this town, I was able to pull out cash.

We had a good hour wait on the dock while the sun slowly dropped from the sky. It was about an hour or so before sunset that we finally started the trek up to the top of the hill. There were several statues with religious symbolism along the stairway to the top and many more at the summit. We all marveled at the way the sun bloomed behind the clouds and created magnificent hues over Lake Titicaca. Once it was all finished we dropped back in town and went to bed.

The next morning, I walked towards the beach and sat down at a coffee shop as I waited for everyone to get ready.

“Matt!” Augusta screamed out their window. I looked up and saw four heads poking out. “We’re almost ready.” I was in no rush. Why should I be? The early morning sun shone brightly as I sipped my coffee. Little could bother me.

We bought ferry tickets and waited in line to board our ship. As we stood on the dock, two girls came racing up to Greg. We were all introduced and just like that our group had blossomed to seven. It was only later that I found out the minute they approached Greg, he knew I would immediately bond with them. Americans always have at least one thing in common. But to travel thousands of miles from home only to meet girls you could have drunkenly hit on while in a bar back home? It means you have at least two things in common. Especially when you now know two Sarah Ullmans living in Los Angeles.

The world just got a little smaller.

Isla del Sol sits in the middle of Lake Titicaca and was used as an Incan religious pilgrimage. Now it’s a Bolivian tourist trap. You get there and everyone tries to swindle you for money. Locals point you in the wrong direction in hopes that you get lost and hire a guide, and there’s multiple checkpoints to pay a “passing fee.”

On a side note, my experience in Bolivia did not shed a great light on the people there. It was the only place in South America where I felt like people were legitimately trying to screw you. I guess it’s a testament of how bad their economy is. They have to try and jack up the prices by three Bolivianos because you’re white. Which, in USD is about 40 cents. At the end of the day, you don’t stress over it because everything is dirt-cheap anyways that it hardly makes a difference. But it’s the principle that really matters. Look at their president as an example. Seriously, Google “President of Bolivia.” He looks like a sleazebag.

Racial profiling? Yeah, basically. Sue me.

ANYWAYS

Back on Isla del Sol, Augusta’s Cousin & her boyfriend decided to just hang back while Greg, Augusta, Greer, Sarah and I finally found our way to the trail. Again we were back to five. There are only a few scattered tourists and locals, so the island is very serene. Once we got to the Inca ruins on the north end of the island and sat down for a little bit, we realized we were running a bit later than we should have. The next few hours became a hard trek to the south docks so we could make the 330pm ferry.

Our last half hour was a huge rush, but we made it. Barely. Back in town there was a festival just starting, street performers and all. Greer and Sarah were all about it. But Greg and I had heard gunshots going off all night. Apparently the thing to do is to shoot them off into the air during festivals.

Drunk Bolivians with guns? Fuck that. We were out.

So we hopped on the next bus to La Paz. We followed the shores of the lake as the sun touched the earth behind us. We continue on until we hit our first town and stop. With no clue where we are or why we’ve stopped, Greg and I became a little wary. The driver started blabbering in Spanish and everyone else began to disembark. About the only word we could pick up was “restaurante.” We figured maybe it was a toilet break? So we grabbed our day packs and warily got off the bus.

It was then, as we were the last people off, that the bus drove on to a barge. We had to cross the lake. But we’re in a third world country. Bridges are expensive. All thirty or so passengers then crammed into a little boat, with maybe five lifejackets on board, and went from one shore to the other. Only in a place like Bolivia would you get an experience like this. Soon we were back on track and on to La Paz.

The city of La Paz is a dump. However the location in which it lies is amazing. The whole city lies in a canyon that flows down towards another mountain range. Everyone said to go see the witches market. So we did. And we were disappointed. It was built up as an awesome thing to see while in La Paz. But all it was were a few storefronts with random dead things, herbs and other potion ingredients. About the only thing of note were the dried Llama fetuses. To many people that’s shocking. But I’m of the Internet generation. I’ve grown desensitized to many of these things. As a teenager you go in search of the most shocking videos you can. I’ve seen everything from Two Girls One Cup to Bud Dwyer.

But then again, maybe I’m just a little twisted. If you don’t know what either of those are, trust me, you probably don’t want to.