It was another early bus ride out of La Paz – but this time I opted for the more expensive, but less-people-and-smells, ‘tourist’ bus. Clearly working on Bolivian time, it arrived late and we ended up hanging around in the city centre for even longer. But with the many street stalls around, and my breakfast-less tummy grumbling, it was easy to hang some money out the window and score some cheap empanadas to pass the time.
Eventually our half-full bus drove steadily through rural towns where cows, llamas and chickens were all feeding off the grass, tied to stakes, and small crops of quinoa and wheat pushed themselves between shack-houses. We travelled towards our lakeside destination, Copacabana, via a curious water crossing at San Pedro de Itiquina. Needing to pay a 1.50 Boliviano (30 cents Australian) charge, we all had to get out of the bus, and watch as it was taken backwards across the water on a barge, with us taking another smaller boat, after paying for the tax.
Somehow we managed to lose a person in this short space of time but after driving around for a few minutes, the driver decides they are not worth waiting for any longer, and so we leave. Climbing up further on the other side, the day is remarkably warm, despite our 3800m height, (the lake which we are driving around – Lake Titicaca – may or may not be, depending on which section of Lonely Planet you read, the highest navigable lake in the world). And I am surprised once again to see Australian eucalyptus trees everywhere.
The experience is a bit like driving through country Victoria – somewhat of a Mount Hotham before the last lot of bushfires – there a chill is still in the air, but it is eventually no match for the warm sun above. Of course the journey is not the three and a half hours we are told, rather it is about five hours before we get the full way up to the winding roads that wrap around Lake Titicaca.
We eventually arrive at the top of Copacabana, and I can only assume it is for the benefit of the taxi drivers that we are thrown out so far from the main plaza. And with my growing collection of bags, walking is not really an option anymore, so I share a taxi with an English guy Andy who is nice enough to take one of my bags for me. We head straight to a tour office and grab our onward tickets for the ferry to Isla del Sol, before settling down for a quick bite at a local restaurant.
I opted again for the three course lunch special, which at less than AUD$3, more than amply fills me with soup, barbecued meat, salad and chocolate-covered banana. So good! We then trudged ourselves down to the water to wait to board our trip to the supposed birthplace of the Incan Sun God, and are entertained by a band playing various pompous tunes for a fiesta that is going on further along the bay.
Finally we got on, and I am instantly greeted by the owner who laughs at the size of my bags and takes delight in informing me of the 250-plus stone steps that will greet us at the other side. Apparently Lonely Planet didn’t think it was important enough to mention to would-be travellers. Hmmmm…Strangely enough too, as we coasted along to the island, my phone started to work for the first time in almost a month - in the middle of the lake. So Bolivian.
But unfortunately by the time we had arrived the driver had squashed any plans we had of trekking to the other side of the island to see the museum, and had instead offered to take us on a walking tour of the island, and to carry my bags up the stairs. Bugger the tour I thought, I would just pay for the luggage!
And when we get to the other side I am glad to have the extra help, as I still struggle to get up with just my handbag and heaving lungs. After about half an hour we reached the top (something tells me that this place will never be overwrought with tourists), completely knackered from the climb, and settle in to watch the amazing view. It’s just about the only thing to do here.
I look out as donkeys haul cloth packs stuffed full with goods up the bumpy paths, and traditional women in their knitted tops, full skirts and bowler hats attempt to sell a small collections of their handcrafts to the few guests. And before the sun sets and the cold sends us inside to play cards, I guess it is just as well that we are only here for a night.
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4 comments:
Bolivia seems so sobering....so real. Does that make sense? I wonder what it was like before Morales became in power?
Yer, people have different opinions on whether or not he is so good after all. Evo - as they all call him - has now gone down that horrible path of confiscating and redistributing land, which has angered a lot of the better off people who must now 'use' or lose their land.
i once watched a doco on him before he was elected. he seemed so genuinely 'for' the people.. so democratically enthused. of course, as we all know, this cannot be sustained in real governing terms. it's a shame.
Yer, I think the real problem is that he had a long learning curve in understanding the problems not just of his fellow country-siders, but also the people who live in the cities of Bolivia.
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