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Published: July 31st 2010
domingo, 30 de mayo There was a huge festival last night and getting home was difficult since our street was lined with people. Brass bands, dancers, costumes. Beautifully photographic. Do we want our one camera stolen? Hell no. Every single man there took a p*ss in the street. If we didn't choke on our own vomit from the smell we might have drowned or been washed away. Or run over by the brass band as we dodged through it to the behest of the carabineros.
It's unbelievable that we have stayed here 5 days considering our indifference to it. Today we hit the road. That's having missed the prison from the book Marching Powder (people get raped there so good), the coke club Ruta 36 (also good we like having nostrils) and a mirador where there are wild dogs.
To pass the time we drank at Oliver's. The barman was some sort of Mick Jagger/Keith Richards hybrid throwback who refused to serve tea or milkshakes to men in the afternoon. Really looked like his brain had dissolved.
lunes, 31 de mayo We lied. Today we hit the road. A short bus to Copacabana (not that one) was uneventful
aside from the bit where we had to get off the bus and take a boat across a lake whilst the bus took its own. This lake is a small sub-lake of our intended destination - Lake Titicaca.
For the first time in a short while we arrived in a town with no reservation. Hostel lottery is not for the faint-hearted. We maybe got 4 balls, Hostel Gabriel was about as basic as a 10 piece Sesame Street jigsaw but just 2 quid a night each including en-suite. We dropped our bags and headed into town. Which turned out to be about as big as Stevie G's forehead. We didn't stray off the one street which led to the dock.
Copacabana is pretty touristy for its size, everyone trying to sell boat trips over to Isla del Sol (the real reason we came). Or buses out. Or foreign currency. Or a llama jumper or five. It's over 20 degrees but you can never have too many in your 75 litre backpack. We bypassed them with our straightest poker faces down to the lake where we hung out until the sun started to move. It was nice but for
a conversation with a shoeshine boy who seemed to have been tricked into coming to Copacabana for all the tourists not counting on the volume of sandals out there. He nearly cried telling us. We had no money, the one stupid bank opening just an hour a day. He took our peanuts gratefully. Sniff.
We had to pay 18%!t(MISSING)o get cashback in a restaurant, the only in town taking it. Supply and demand what?
martes, 2 de junio Walking up and down the one street in Copacabana eventually felt like it had provided all the culture it would so we booked our boat to the island. The lake is flatter than a witch's pancake (wait, is that right?) so the journey was pleasant and without nausea.
Isla del Sol was where the Incas believed that the Sun was born. It may or may not have been born here but it seems to wanna stay here. It's just 9km long end to end but the lake can be seen all the way around. From the docking point on the North of the island in the blistering heat you can see snowcapped mountains across the way.
We
took the route around to check out the islands ruins but were disappointed on a David Brent-Alton Towers scale. The buildings looked like they had been rebuilt to an extent which slightly defeats it. Fortunately the general island views were spectacular (as were the eagles soaring overhead) enough to redeem. From the top of the hills the beaches can be seen on either side, overlooked by forests and green fields. It's kinda strange to think of the lake at the height we are at.
At points across the island we were tapped for 3, yes 3!!!, different 'taxes'. Must be all the upkeep of the untouched natural growth.
We set up at the Hosteria Las Islas, 3 pound per person with a huge terrace overlooking Isla de La Luna and the Bolivian mainland. The toilet did not flush, unless you tipped buckets of water into it. And there's no electricity. Wish we hadn't stayed the other side of the island to the restaurants.
miercoles, 2 de junio Day 2 on the Isla. There's no rush to get up, as we said the place is 9km long and we probably walked 7km yesterday. As always paying took about
four months because the hostel didn't have change. Find it, you're a business.
We headed out on to the path to the remaining archaeological site, infinitely easier by the light of day than last nights stumblefest. The path is easier to walk but apparently not to navigate. The two dotted lines on the picture of an island which constitutes our map somehow leading us to the port instead. Fortunately the Inca steps were there too so it wasn't a complete waste of energy. They were knackering though - almosty as if the Incas didn't want old ladies to carry their handicrafts into town.
The steps destroyed our enthusiasm. We didn't bother with the archaeological site, just enjoyed the sun. Perhaps a little too much. When I got back to Copacabana I realised I in fact had wrinkle marks from squinting all day. The future looks bleak. Looked like a turtle. Not even a ninja one.
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