From the La Paz airport in El Alto, I set out to find a bus to Lake Titicaca. Everyone has told me that you have to see the world's highest navigable lake (though no one can define 'navigable') and Isla del Sol, where the Incan creation myth is born.
You would think that I have been in Bolivia long enough to know that asking a cab to take me to the 'bus terminal' probably won't work. Here, they don't always see the use for having a terminal building per se. Sometimes, the buses just park on the street and guys stand next to them yelling destinations. My taxi dropped me off on a street with a lot of buses and a lot of yellers. This system doesn't always leave room for all the buses in one location, and I quickly realized that no one was yelling "Copacabana!", the place I was trying to go. So I got into another cab and found another street of buses. Bus ticket to Copacabana: 15Bs. Cabs to get from airport to the bus: 32Bs.
The journey to Copacabana, the gringo hub on the shores of Lake Titicaca, is a few hours and the bus has to cross some water of the lake between peninsulas. They are talking about a bridge, but for now, they put the bus on a barge, and then they make all the passengers get out and buy a ticket on a boat so they can catch up with their bus. One of the bus barges was named 'Titanic'. Not comforting. I took my gear on the boat with me, rather than leaving it on the bus.
Copacabana was still having Carnaval when I arrived. This is the holiday that never ends. A little boy chased me around town with a can of spray foam. I tried to see some Incan ruins, but the gate was locked. I talked to the other travelers at my hostel, all of whom are on whirlwind tours and I quickly tired of the "where have you been?/where are you going next?" conversations.
I was still sad from leaving Cochabamba and decided to treat myself to a nice dinner. I sat down in an appropriate feeling restaurant, poured over the menu, and then decided that I deserved the "House Speciality." When it arrived, it was a cold plate of bland cheese, unsalted peanuts, broccoli and olives with ranch dressing.
Still hungry the next morning, I went into one of the many cafes serving breakfast to backpackers and was excited to see "Müsli" painted on two signs by the door, as cereals are very uncommon in Bolivia. The table I sat down at was covered with crumbs and had a dirty spoon left from the last customers. The doña brought me coffee, and it was on a filthy saucer in a dirty cup. Of course, it's Nescafe. She picked up the dirty leftover spoon from across the table and set it on my saucer. I began spinning the cup around to look for the least dirty side to drink from. I was given a piece of bread and had to clarify my "müsli" order. She apologized. Imagine how excited I when she came back from the kitchen and served me popcorn with yogurt on top.
I got on the boat to Isla del Sol and enjoyed an hour and a half scenic cruise to the island. When we got to the dock, a woman asked me for a 5B tax. I had 3.50B or 100B. The woman denied having change, even though I was the 60th person in line paying this tax. I offered to pay 3.50B. She refused and said I needed to pay 5B. I puzzled over this problem for about 2 seconds and then asked, in Spanish, if I could just pass without paying. She said fine. 'Don't ask 'why' in Bolivia.'
Isla del Sol is a beautiful mountainous island sticking out of Lake Titicaca at about 4000m above sea level (13,125ft). Some 10,000 people live on it and they all seem to be running hostals and pizza restaurants in varying degrees of mud or brick buildings. I wandered up an Incan staircase and set out to find a place to stay for the night. After an hour of aimlessly pondering which direction to go, I ran into a guy from New Zealand, who was also lost. He denies that we were lost, but I found him sitting hopelessly on a stoop asking an equally bewildered me for directions. Consulting donkey-herding locals, we made our way around a mountain, climbed through fields, and puffed over ridges. We finally (accidentally) stumbled on the hostel we were looking for, nowhere near where the Lonely Planet map said it was.
After finding a place to stay, and celebrating with a beer, we realized we had pretty much done everything Isla del Sol has to offer, and that is: wander around.
The next morning, we got a cereal-free breakfast and hiked to some Incan ruins in the south part of the island. A woman with a pad that could be purchased in any shop wrote us a "ticket" and charged us a 5B entry. The ruins were small and I asked this ticket "official" if she knew any information about them. She said she did, but she had forgotten it.
The boat back to Copacabana was just as scenic as the ride there, with just as many backpackers to chat with about all they had seen on the "gringo trail" around South America. I like lakes, but I'm not sure how this pretty island attracts quite so many visitors. But who can pass up visiting the place that the sun was supposedly born?
You would think that I have been in Bolivia long enough to know that asking a cab to take me to the 'bus terminal' probably won't work. Here, they don't always see the use for having a terminal building per se. Sometimes, the buses just park on the street and guys stand next to them yelling destinations. My taxi dropped me off on a street with a lot of buses and a lot of yellers. This system doesn't always leave room for all the buses in one location, and I quickly realized that no one was yelling "Copacabana!", the place I was trying to go. So I got into another cab and found another street of buses. Bus ticket to Copacabana: 15Bs. Cabs to get from airport to the bus: 32Bs.The journey to Copacabana, the gringo hub on the shores of Lake Titicaca, is a few hours and the bus has to cross some water of the lake between peninsulas. They are talking about a bridge, but for now, they put the bus on a barge, and then they make all the passengers get out and buy a ticket on a boat so they can catch up with their bus. One of the bus barges was named 'Titanic'. Not comforting. I took my gear on the boat with me, rather than leaving it on the bus.
Copacabana was still having Carnaval when I arrived. This is the holiday that never ends. A little boy chased me around town with a can of spray foam. I tried to see some Incan ruins, but the gate was locked. I talked to the other travelers at my hostel, all of whom are on whirlwind tours and I quickly tired of the "where have you been?/where are you going next?" conversations.
I was still sad from leaving Cochabamba and decided to treat myself to a nice dinner. I sat down in an appropriate feeling restaurant, poured over the menu, and then decided that I deserved the "House Speciality." When it arrived, it was a cold plate of bland cheese, unsalted peanuts, broccoli and olives with ranch dressing.Still hungry the next morning, I went into one of the many cafes serving breakfast to backpackers and was excited to see "Müsli" painted on two signs by the door, as cereals are very uncommon in Bolivia. The table I sat down at was covered with crumbs and had a dirty spoon left from the last customers. The doña brought me coffee, and it was on a filthy saucer in a dirty cup. Of course, it's Nescafe. She picked up the dirty leftover spoon from across the table and set it on my saucer. I began spinning the cup around to look for the least dirty side to drink from. I was given a piece of bread and had to clarify my "müsli" order. She apologized. Imagine how excited I when she came back from the kitchen and served me popcorn with yogurt on top.
I got on the boat to Isla del Sol and enjoyed an hour and a half scenic cruise to the island. When we got to the dock, a woman asked me for a 5B tax. I had 3.50B or 100B. The woman denied having change, even though I was the 60th person in line paying this tax. I offered to pay 3.50B. She refused and said I needed to pay 5B. I puzzled over this problem for about 2 seconds and then asked, in Spanish, if I could just pass without paying. She said fine. 'Don't ask 'why' in Bolivia.'
After finding a place to stay, and celebrating with a beer, we realized we had pretty much done everything Isla del Sol has to offer, and that is: wander around.
The next morning, we got a cereal-free breakfast and hiked to some Incan ruins in the south part of the island. A woman with a pad that could be purchased in any shop wrote us a "ticket" and charged us a 5B entry. The ruins were small and I asked this ticket "official" if she knew any information about them. She said she did, but she had forgotten it.The boat back to Copacabana was just as scenic as the ride there, with just as many backpackers to chat with about all they had seen on the "gringo trail" around South America. I like lakes, but I'm not sure how this pretty island attracts quite so many visitors. But who can pass up visiting the place that the sun was supposedly born?
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