Yavari and public transport across borders

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We had a good night´s rest and then breakfast which mostly consists of bbj (bread, butter and jam) and cups of tea and juice; we then go down the pedestrian street and hop into a taxi to the Yavari museo outside the Sonesta Posada Hotel del Inca.

Like ourselves, the driver didn't know where it was so he drove down to the main port and had to ask someone where it was they pointed across to the other side of the bay and the driver seemed certain of where to go at this point. We head in that direction driving over the narrow ancient looking rail tracks and eventually end up at a very posh looking hotel - I say it's posh because everything was priced in US dollars and there where little boutiques within selling crafts and jewelry. You need to walk through the hotel to get to the Yavari.

We see our destination and head towards it. At first there doesn't seem to be any life onboard but sure enough we eventually see some of the staff. We greet an older seaman and he asks if we'd like the tour in Castellano or English and says it will be a few minutes before our guide is ready. He aske where we are from we respond California and England then when our guide comes out they have very hushed talk but I hear the older man say but I thought she was one of us a Peruvian while our guide is like be quite she understands you?!

The older gent ask if we are staying in the hotel we let him know that we came from Puno. He seemed very surprised that we traveled all that distance so early as it wasn't quite nine am, yet. Maybe they don't receive many visitors from the center as it was exactly clear where they are located to begin with perhaps people see the rusting Ollanta in the bay to get to the Uros islands and mistakenly think that's it even there is no way to get to it (the Ollanta that is).

Eventually, Maximo our guide presents himself (I think we may have interupted his breakfast) to us and again ask which language we prefer he begins in Spanish then switched to English and apologies for it being rusty. The Yavari story of the English designed ship from 1862 is an amazing one, talk about all the time and extreme effort to get these vessels all the way from England to the highest navagable lake in the world, gee-whiz, if you want the details see the link. They ordered two from England but ended up with enough parts to put one together.

Maximo informs us that the cargo area of the ship is going to be converted to cabins that would be hired by passangers for cruises on Lago Titicaca and that capacity would be low - under 30 guests - which would make first class tickets a bit pricey but most likey worth every penny. May have to return to the lake once the cruiser is up and running in a few years?

How great would it be to spend several nights cruising around the lake... Maximo says

it would be a dream come true

to have the Yavari sailing again as it's intended to.

We thanked Maximo for our trip down memory lane, dropped some money into the donations box as entrance is no charge so a generous donation appreciated, then we bought a book and postcard. Really wanted a patch but they were all out, nada, nothing ... completely outta stock, oh well.

Back in the lobby of the hotel we ask for a taxi while we wait for the taxi to arrive I have look at the shops and make use of a very clean ladies room. Mean while unbeknownst to me Sean nicks a couple of books from the small library in the lounge. And when I say library I mean like 15 books on a shelf mostt of them horrible trash novels. No offence if you like that kinda thing...any how. Sean didn't say anything about the books until we where well on our way in the cab I was in disbelief but the likelyhood that anyone would miss them is slim to more likely none!

Back towards the centre we decide we'd better get tickets out of town, or at least to the border - so we divert to the street where the company we are seeking is located. When we find it it's closed so we stop at a neighboring one that is open... the man starts by saying all the tourist buses leave at 7,30 am and the next one isn't until the morrow.

We proceed to explain that we want o leave ASAP early afternoon, so he tells us

well there is one at 13,30

We're like great are the seats reserved he's like yeah but not too enthusiastically, ya know. Transaction complete with peace of mind we can go grab some grub!

We head back towards the main street for lunch and spot a place called Balcones de Peru the best food we've had in Puno. Absolutely, mouth-watering-melt-in-your-mouth, yummy Trout and let's not forget the chocolate cake (i've been doing an unscientific sample test of chocolate cake in South America so far it's awesome) de-lish!

We collect our packs from the hotel storage and our passports from the safe then an agent picks us up and transports us to the bus terminal. It's a chaotic place people yelling, throwing bags and furniture atop the buses to be secured for the journey destination. Basically, if it can be strapped onto the bus, it goes. There doesn't seem to be any weight limits once I saw a bus that seemed to have its height or more loaded onto it's rooftop! just nuts, really.

When we arrived our bus was nearly full so we end up sitting in the very last row - five of us shoulder to shoulder but at least we got a seat unlike the unfortunate standing room only which there must have been at least ten people who had to stand for the duration of the journey. Once everyone is as comfortable as can be expected and all the 'luggage' is strapped securely, we hope, on the top we're off.

Bumping along the road toward the Bolivian border - as we go up hill I can tell the engine is struggling, you can begin to smell the oils burning too but we keep, keeping on, chugging along by this point most people are off the bus only us foreingers and a few locals getting off at the end of the line remain. You hear an awful grind-pop type noise most likely the carboator and more probably the clutch has gone given we are on a very slight incline the van-bus spits out the blackest smoke and we roll to the shoulder of the road to a halt.

At first thinking maybe it's a stop-pickup point? Then a man gets up grabs his bag in disgust barks at the young guy handling the ticket fares and get part, if not all, of it back then proceeds to jump on to a passing vehicle already teeming with people.

Again, chaos, everyone is on the move except for those of us with belongings strapped to the roof of the ban-bus. There seems to be loads of buses passing through more than willing to pick up stranded passengers meanwhile a frustrated Chola (not like the California version) tells the young guy handling the fares to get her bags down - he mouths off to this woman who is probably in her fifties - she became so enraged with this teenager for being A: badly raised and B: disrepectful she leaned over and picked upa stone and I thought she was gonna clobber the guy! But seeing how mad he made the woman he quickly righted the situation plus everyone except us with luggage to claim had all departed on various vehicles.. all he had to do now was unload the cargo and get us on a new bus.

Miracle, an empty van pulls up the driver takes care of business with our guy and will gets us to the last stop. Our original guy explains that all the GRINGOS are going to the end then they guys in back protest NO somos GRINGOS somos Inglese we all laugh and hit the road again!

The new driver picks up another couple of passengers and one of them stikes up a conversation with Sean to practice his English, I think? I get introduced and he´s asking

are you their guide

? because Sean is one of five Englishmen in the vehicle; So I'm like, laughter ha ha ha ...'NO, Sean is my HUSBAND' So Sean ask what's so funny so funny so I explained.

By the time we got to the last stop its as if we, the passengers, had known each other for a lot longer than a few hours! Thankfully, a young couple asked the driver to take us the rest of the way to the actual border stop for a whopping extra 50 centavos each, not bad, huh? We said farwell and thank them for their kindness.

The rest of the distance finally covered we are now at the Peru Bolivian border, exchanges dollars and Soles for Bolivianos then proceed to the first check point. Here they make everyone wait in a very small lobby considering everyone has a sizeable pack on their back and then one by one we are asked to enter the next office for questioning. You know the usual stuff

Do you have any narcotics, weapons or false money?

They also ask to see your money so they can confirm whether or not it's counterfeit, outrageous. At the next office your visitor card is given back to the authorities.

At this point we are done with Peru and get to walk the 50 meters or so through the arch onto Bolivian soil and passport control. Again filling out a Bolivian visitor card and get in line for the stamp stating time of stay. The line isn't moving apparently one guy is getting grilled about his very frequent visits to the country considering he doesn't have family or official business here (Bolivia) he briefly walks away then returns and drops a C-note (hundred) on the guards desk promptly got his stamp of entry and the line begins to move swiftly... progress, I guess?

We catch up to the other English dudes hop into another mini-bus for Copacabana Bolivia. What a day - the original van breakdown wasn't so bad it was actually fun - all part of the S.A.A (South American Adventure)!

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Photos

Yavari 1862
took 1000's locals and mules to carry this hefty cargo to the lake

engine
originally the engine was fueled by Llama poo