UnBoliviable (see what I did there....?)

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So, it's been some time since we've updated the blog - mainly because it's taken a little while for enough stuff to have happened to make a worthwhile entry. So as a result of this, and of a case of one of us being cold and tired, this one's a joint effort (Fern wrote it out, Jon's typing it up).

As Jon mentioned, we went horse riding on our last day in Cusco; what he forgot to say however was that due to the intense mountain sun I ended up very sunburned (despite wearing factor 50) and then having got to Puno spent most of the next couple of days in bed with sunstroke, which I can assure you is massively unpleasant. Just as I was recovering from this we both got food poisoning, so really that week was a bit of a disaster.

We eventually started to feel a bit better and resolved ourselves to getting going again, so our first venture back out into the world was to the Islas Flotantes (floating islands) of Lake Titicaca - spectacular and unique but also hugely exploitative. The islands consist of 3m of reeds layered upon each other, gradually replenished from the top as the bottom rots. The communities living on them (there are about 50 in total) are amazingly basic and remote, but despite this they seemed equally as talented at ripping people off as everywhere else on this bloody continent. An example of this was paying the princely sum of 4 quid to hear a rendition of 'Twinkle twinkle little star' - which I swear was actually "Gringo, gringo, come from far" - and to ride 100m in the slowest boat known to man. It actually sped up when Jon took the oars...

Later that day we headed to Copacabana, which we'd been advised was beautiful; we weren't disappointed, as we were greeted by absolutely spectacular scenery on the other side of the lake. Before we got there however, we had to cross the border into Bolivia. I can honestly say I've never been more glad not to be American, as due to Evo Morales' hostility towards the US' 'War on Drugs' (he kicked out the DEA and encouraged an increase in coca growing) getting through customs seems to be a far more lengthy and expensive process for them. Where we Brits get free entry in an instant Americans are forced to pay $135 for each country they visit, which given our intention to visit at least 4 countries would have pretty much bankrupted us.

After arriving in our comfortable-looking hostel in Copacabana we decided to relax with a nice meal in the 'exclusive' restaurant downstairs. We soon discovered that the reason the place was dead was not due to our VIP status but rather because the rest of the resort knew to steer clear. The food was literally the worst thing I've ever eaten and left me pining for my dad's 'Aberdeenshire Surprise' (a very sad state of affairs, believe me). My 'lasagne' consisted of three sheets of boiled pasta with corned beef mince placed between them, and a slice of plastic cheese melted on top, all garnished with a squirt of tomato ketchup. I honestly believe my dog could've served up something better...

With memories of this satisfying meal still lingering we got up early the following morning to make our way to the Isla del Sol, a 2-hour boat ride away from the town, which truly lived up to its name. The main purpose of the trip was to hike across the island but unfortunately due to our only guide being a tiny map in the 'Lonely Planet' book we ended up taking a 3km detour the wrong way around a hill, which left us exactly where we started! Eventually we got back on track but not before a few run-ins with snakes and donkeys. The main hazard however was the persistent local children who insist on following you around, asking for apples, sweets, or just straight-up cash - I swear this whole continent is on the take.

After watching a rather embarrassing England match - at times accompanied by a family of smug-looking Germans - we left Copacabana for La Paz, the Bolivian capital. Unlike the massive disappointment that was Lima, La Paz felt like a breath of fresh air; sunny, with wonderful views, the city is cheap, fun and exciting. We spent the next couple of days exploring the city, especially the witches's market in the centre of town where there was massive amounts of weird, disgusting looking stuff for sale. A particularly strange custom in both Peru and Bolivia is for people to put aborted llama foetuses under their houses for luck, and this market was the perfect location to search for the right one. Ranging from tiny little shrivelled bones to near full-term fluff covered baby llamas, all of which were frankly stomach-turning.

After a few days of mincing about in La Paz, we finally got round to doing the thing we had been gearing towards the whole holiday - The Death Road. Named for the thousands of motorists who have perished doing the journey up this trecherous 64km, the road is 3.2m wide at its widest part with a drop of over 600m most of the way down. A total of 17 cyclists have died bombing down this mad route and we were warned by our tour guide to be ultra careful but that we also had nothing to worry about. Lovely conflicting messages. After getting kitted up we joined the 20 or so other riders for the journey down. All in all the journey wasn't actually that bad - we're still alive - but that's mainly because you have to concentrate so hard on staying on your bike that you have little time to actually peek over the edge, although one glance usually proved enough for each rider. The ride proceeded bumpily enough but with everyone staying on the road, however close to the we were reminded of why such care must be taken. Eager to beat her boyfriend one of my few fellow girls came round a corner at far too sharp an angle and ended up falling off her bike and getting both the handlebar and brake impaled in her leg. After lying screaming in agony for what seemed like an eternity, the guides finally managed to get her in the back of the van, but not before removing the handlebars from her leg, despite every single British rider who'd ever watched Casualty screaming at them not to. Fortunately the handlebars had narrowly missed her artery and after a three hour ride back to La Paz, she got to a hospital ok, but the whole experience was a massive downer on the rest of the ride. Those who had been cycling like mad men previously were nervously braking the rest of the way down the mountain as everyone had been reminded of just how dangerous it is to get injured out here without proper emergency services and no health and safety pre-requisite for guides to have medical training.

So after a four hour journey back up the hill in a mini-van filled with exhausted, farting boys we finally made it back to La Paz, safe and sound. The last week or so has had several ups and downs, included some pretty hectic Diet Coke withdrawal symptoms, but we're now determined to enjoy our last few days in Bolivia before travelling to Chile to meet Ruth.

Much Love

Fern
xxxxx

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Photos

Reed collecting on Lake Titicaca
A local collects the reeds used to continually renew the floating islands he and others of the Uros tribe live on.

An actual floating island
Complete with boats and everything.

The Isla del Sol
In short, stunningly beautiful.

Orange vendor in La Paz
With a quite ridiculous number of oranges.

The birds and their house
These are the birds at the Museum of Musical Instruments feeding on some melon, and in the background the most amazing birdhouse I've ever seen!

La Paz
On our way up to the 'Mirador' viewpoint, a shot of Fern in the middle distance, and the cityscape beyond.

La Paz from the top
And this was the view down the valley once we got up to the actual viewpoint.