Bolivia: Santa Cruz

Not the small town feels seeing that Santa Cruz is the capital of its department and hits close to the million mark population wise. But it was only a stopover to get our plane ticket to Puerto Suarez and cross into Brazil to do the Pantanal.

We decided to head to the zoo and see some of the local birds and animals of the region. A simple journey at first that upon return turned into a 2 hour missed-stop bus journey deep into the local neighborhoods, maybe 15km south of the city.

Leaving first thing in the morning and arriving in the same morning was a novel concept. What a weird feeling to actually be on a plane. Modern, swift travel after many bumpy, uncomfortable miles under our bums!!! A short hour later and we bounced twice on the tarmac before quickly disembarking in Pto. Suarez.

A bit of panic set in.....Rachel could not find her passport. We tore apart our money belts and inside our day packs...nothing. Another search and she found it. She had missed her zipper and it luckily had gotten stuck against the front of her jeans. Thankfully not falling out on either tarmac or inside the plane that was slowly on taxi to Sao Paolo.

Next problem....the lady at immigration in Santa Cruz had taken our entry papers to Bolivia that you need to surrender upon leaving. The two immigration guys did not buy our story (even though it was the truth. but then again they probably get it all the time from idiot travelers who lose their papers en route). That plane was continuing on to Sao Paolo, Brazil, hence the reason she must have forgotten to give us our papers back. A bit panicked and trying to tell them our story, we ended up paying a few Bolivians more for an exit stamp and we were on our way. Thankfully.

A guy from the Pantanal agency (Green Track) we ended up going with spoke English and helped us catch a taxi to the Brazilian/Bolivian border and gave us a lift to their pousada. We got to steamy Corumba on the Brazilian side to find that once again we were in a town having a founding celebration, hence everything was closed up. So we grabbed a few beers, caught a nap, grabbed the best pizza in town with the locals, walked around the street party and crashed. Our Pantanal tour was leaving first thing in the morning.

Bolivia: Sucre

After the wild taxi ride from Potosi. We found a nice hotel with one English Channel on TV and ventured out to the travelers favorite called the Joy Ride Cafe. A Dutch-run hangout with huge portions, good service and varied menu kept us happy like Jack’s Cafe in Cusco too many weeks before to remember. So it seems as every day and another new adventure passes by.

Sunday in Sucre was very quiet. Not a thing open. Actually quite a nice way to walk around and see why it is called -The Athens of the Americas-. White washed buildings and red tiled roofs. We sampled the locally made chocolate from Para Ti which was pretty good.

We enquired about a quick 40 minute flight up to Santa Cruz or the 17 hour bus ride, but cost became the issue and we booked our seats and headed off late in the afternoon. The first 9 hours were another hellish washboard journey on switchback roads following every other bus on the same route. Finally, the sun came up and we hit the massive bus terminal in Santa Cruz.
http://www.traveljournals.net/stories/9513.html

Bolivia: Potosi

A nice relaxing day after our horse ride in Tupiza and unfortunately, it was time to move on. The muscles are still a bit tender, but on the mend. Up early, (on a side note, back to Copacabana when we ran into the 2 Finnish girls...well we ran into them in La Paz and in Tupiza as well...) a quick breakfast of saltenas (pastries filled with chicken or beef and potatoes, etc. (http://www.boliviaweb.com/recipes/english/saltenas.htm ) see here for more info... and off to the bus station to jump a bus to Potosi some 7 hours north.

The arriving bus was about 30 minutes late and finally we were off. A filthy, beat up local bus and nothing but a long, bumpy, dusty, washboard road taking us up to Potosi at 4060m lie ahead. We rolled, bumped, climbed and the air got thin and cold. 6000m snow capped peaks surrounded us on all sides. The scenery was still amazing!

A short 20 minute stop in some dusty little village for everyone to get something to eat added 30 minutes to the trip. A road block only a short ways out of Potosi threatened to have the entire bus disembark, walk 500m and get on another bus. Thankfully, the road block was opened and we continued on our way. We arrived in Potosi, with the sun going down, the temperature plummeting, headaches battling the climb to altitude or was it the constant battering of the vibrations from the not-so-smooth road underneath? Whatever the case, we finally got out of the bus, into a taxi and arrived at hostel shortly thereafter.

Not wasting any time, we headed out to dinner at what used to be Potosi’s finest, called El Meson. Properly attired waiters, cloth napkins and a old school feel led us to a pretty good dinner of fresh tomato and vegetable soup, filet mignon and wine. All for the ultra low bargain price of Bs145 (= approx. $18USD). Try that anywhere at home. In fact, that was my third steak of the week for under $3USD and we haven’t even hit Argentina yet!

Trying to sleep for the night proved to be another challenge. 6 wool blankets not only made it too hot underneath, but also felt like 200tons of lead on your feet. Kicking off a blanket or two, invited drafts down any crack that opened up and if you moved to another more/less comfortable position to try and sleep, that part of the bed was freezing. Add a bit of cotton mouth, a little dehydration and a fear of freezing your feet off should you need a wee in the middle of the night and you’re enjoying a typical night of sleeping at altitude. Seeing your breath billowing from your mouth while brushing your teeth is another story.

Daylight finally came and necessitated all the usual layers and protection from the elements. At over 4000m, Potosi is touted as the highest city in the world and a continual cold is always present. Potosi is noted for its present day silver mining, decades after the boom town collapsed. There are tours that take you down into the mines to see the workers and real conditions. We opted out of this tour, deciding to move on to Sucre after we had a killer (cheap and filling) breakfast and wandered around the local markets for a bit.

Not wanting to waste the day waiting for the local bus to depart and after our hellish journey from Tupiza the day before, we decided on a shared taxi which would shave about two hours off the entire journey and deliver us door-to-door. The tiny Nissan Sentra was less than comfortable stuffed with Rachel, myself and a local guy in the back, the driver and another passenger in the front.

Nonetheless, he zoom us along the windy mountain roads passing slower trucks, dodging donkeys and curious dogs at speeds over 100km/h and dropped us down into Sucre (2760m) about 2 1/2 hours later.

Sucre will give us another couple of days to chill out before making our way up to Santa Cruz (our final week in Bolivia...boo hoo...) and finally over to the Brazilian Pantanal (hence the reason for the Brazilian visas we got back in La Paz).
http://www.traveljournals.net/stories/9333.html

Bolivia: Tupiza

After our long Salar de Uyuni tour and horrible nighttime train to Tupiza, we took two days off to just chill out, get some sleep and relax. We had a great HOT shower with pressure and cable television with 2 channels of English movies about 1/2 of the time. We even broke down one night, with no English options and watched Spiderman in Spanish. Quite entertaining actually. So with a bit of rest and movie watching, feeling back to normal, we decided to do a little horse riding around the beautiful and multi-colored canyons of Tupiza.

Tupiza is famous for Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid fame. They did their last robbery in Huaca Huanasca and shot it out for the last time in nearby San Vicente, where the gravestone still marks their presence.

We opted for a full day of 7 hours of horse riding, opting out of the 2 day ride. Thankfully so as we are fresh off that day of horse riding around the Tupiza canyons and are a bit saddle sore, tight backed and rubbed raw in a few spots.

We headed out about 1000 for our ride with two guides, two Israeli counterparts and a party sunny day with stiff breeze. My horse, Pancho, seemed alright if a bit stubborn at the beginning and Rachel’s horse, was meek by comparison. We followed the train tracks, turned right as we got to the campesino farming area and made our way to the canyons. The guide decided to go for a run (muy rapido) and off we went. My horse bolted as if he’d been stung. Later on, I’d find out that he only liked to be in front, always....and was a very fast horse.

Never having been on a horse that fast before, it was exciting, if not a bit scary. Following behind the guide, I took a few rocks to the face and mouth, luckily not shattering my sunglasses or knocking out a tooth. Funny to those who have ridden, but the control factor of my steed would become an issue to deal with later in the day. If you’ve felt that feeling, then you know what I’m talking about.

We followed the road admiring the views all along. The colors and heights and formations of the rocks were amazing. Then the wind kicked up and did not stop for the rest of the day.
20-30mph winds sucking the dust from the earth and hurtling it along from all directions, in our face, down our backs, in our teeth....not pleasant and we still had 5 hours to go.

Coming down to the river for lunch, my horse bolted for the other horses...he headed for a low lying concrete picnic table, then veered quickly to the left towards a tree, thankfully missing them both (yes I was trying to stop, turn left and get him to slow down, all in vain nonetheless...) and then he just stopped. With Pancho happy to be with the other horses milling about, I dismounted a bit shaken.

I asked our guide to trade horses for safety reasons, but to no avail after lunch. So I rode Pancho, rather he carried me where he wanted to go. Whether the commands were in English or Spanish, he was uncooperative in every way. He would not set still, would not give up first place and could not stand to be directed left or right and hated the bit in his mouth.

As we approached our first river crossing, the guides were behind us having issues of their own. One of the horses refused to be mounted. Finally, he got on and we crossed the river. We made our way down the riverbank taking in the scenery. The second half of the ride was by the far the best. We passed local houses of mud brick, farming in the old plowed way along the river, following the train tracks we made our way in and out of the canyons and saw the local landmarks of the area. Just beautiful scenery.

We crossed the river many times, but the second time would be a remembered experience. The guide set off on a run again at full tilt, and Pancho went for it. Only he aimed for the rocky part of the riverbed, without responding to the reigns one bit. At full tilt, my right foot slipped out of the stirrup and the saddle move a little to the left. Watching the rocks blur by below, we sped along to water’s edge, where he slowed only a bit to cross and then finally milled about when he reached the lead horse (these two did not like each other anyways....matter of fact, the guide said Pancho was a bit crazy and did not like many other horses).

The guide finally recognized my concerns and told me to amigo abajo (friend get down). As I tried to dismount swinging my right foot over the saddle, Pancho was still walking a bit. As my foot came over the top of the saddle, the entire saddle and I fell to the sand in a big heap of anger and words that I cannot write here. Luckily the ground was only sand and nothing but a bump happened. Nothing broken, no blood...all good.

Well at least I finally would get to change horses. I moved onto Rachel’s original horse called Negra Lady. She was sweet, followed commands and had an easy run. Rachel had traded with one of the Israeli guys earlier to get a bit more speed as he had been spooked by our first run.

The trailing guide mounted Pancho and had a tough time bringing him home as he was just as stubborn with him. We finished the ride with some horrible trotting (hence the sore bottoms) into the driving wind and still taking in the views. Needless to say, we were very happy to have a nice hot shower and not be stuck in a cold shack somewhere contemplating another 7 hour ride the next day.
http://www.traveljournals.net/stories/9308.html

Bolivia: Salar de Uyuni

Salar de Uyuni
3 days/2 nights
Over 500km in a Toyota Land Cruiser in the middle of the Bolivian nowhere...

With an extra day in La Paz after our WMDR ride we decided to head down to Uyuni in Southern Bolivia to do the very popular Salar de Uyuni tour. We first headed to the Brazilian Embassy to pick up our passports with newly issued Brazilian visas (more on that later...) and after some enquiries finally found someone who could satisfy our requests for information on buses and tours.

We caught a tourist bus of only travelers out of La Paz to Uyuni direct (10hrs) at 9pm. The tourist bus is definitely the only way to go when it is available as the seats are nicer, the toilet is generally more accommodating, we had an English movie, dinner, blankets and pillows as well as temperature control. Very important when crossing the altiplano at night when the temperatures plummet to -10C or less.

The trip was pretty good, save the last 180km into Uyuni thru the desert which was a washboard, potholed road that made any effort to sleep impossible. We finally arrived into Uyuni at about 0730 whipped by travel and hit in the face by a cold, stiff wind and a quiet, desolate town at that time of the morning.

We walked a few blocks to find our tour operator, who found us in the main square, and we checked in. We still had at least 3 hours (turned in to 4hrs) for our tour to depart for the first day´s travels so we grabbed some breakfast, snacks and waited. We ended up having 3 Land Cruisers with a group of 25 all inclusive of 2 cooks, 3 drivers, one French sort-of-along-for-the-ride-guide and the rest made up of travelers from Belgium, Czech, England, France and Australia.

The entire trip is not like anything you would expect from Bolivia. The landscape is so diverse and impressive that our photos almost don’t do it any justice. So much rugged terrain and colors that every hour revealed something newer and better. We constantly noted the blueness of the altiplano sky which kept us at altitudes of 3800m - 4800m for the entire trip. Even the colors of the desert and salt plains were so impressive that it made the long, butt-busting, hot/cold, cramped rides worthwhile. It is the only way to see this area and again another top highlight of our trip to Bolivia.

We set off for the salt plains and were blown away by the vastness of the white. So many square kilometers of salt. Supposedly, nearly one half of the world’s supply lies here in Bolivia, only no one has taken on the financially aspect of exploiting it and the political arena has kept others at bay. Irregardless of that boring stuff, this place was unbelievable. We hit islands of cactus and mounds of salt that were cultivated every day by the locals. And then it was gone. We left the salt plains behind and headed off into the desert to our hostel for the night.

Bare bones, but at least a place to sleep. Only one toilet and no shower for the entire group, but hot soup and some grub put us to bed after a very long bus ride the night before and truck ride thru the desert. By 0815 we were gone again for more sightseeing the next day. Volcanoes, mountains and lagoons filled with pink flamingoes and llamas and vicunas in the desert made up our second day. Even during the day, the altiplano is not warm. Multiple layers helped to fend off the cold, but the biting wind cut right thru making our time outside the Land Cruiser minimal at best. And this was September. The dead of winter in June and July is frigid at -20C or less!

Our second night’s accommodation was even more simple than the first night. Basically, the compound consisted of a structure to block the wind filled with six bedded rooms and at least this place had two toilets and two sinks with freezing water. No shower and not even a thought had it been hot! We shared a room with the 2 English couples from our Land Cruiser which we lucked out. They were a good laugh and kept the atmosphere fun even during the long travel days and cold temperatures.

By the time dinner rolled around, the wind was blowing a gale, the temperature was already below 0C, heading towards -10C for the night. Everybody gathered around the table for dinner bundled up in so many layers it was hard to tell who was who. Hats, scarves, gloves and many layers underneath as the vapor trails from our mouths billowed off above our heads.

Immediately after dinner, almost the entire group retired to their beds to try and get warm, while a few diehards hit the rum and tequila for a few hours. The lights went out at 9pm, but candles kept the drunken conversations going. One of the English girls decided to keep the party going and stumbled in sometime around midnight, after a futile attempt by her fella to get her to come back earlier. After some mumbling, one-way conversation to a sound asleep boyfriend, some more crying and muttering she finally drifter off only to be kicked out of bed at 0510 for our sunrise departure the next morning. Thankfully, Rachel and I had sleeping bags under the two wool blankets and our entire daytime clothes to sleep with. Getting out of bed in the dark of the morning was not fun. It was so damn cold!!

We cruised down the road about 45 minutes to the thermal geysers as the sun came up. Altitude 4800m and frigid cold. Our driver said that the June and July photo ops only last a few minutes, especially with the stiff, constant 20-30mph winds blowing. Looks warm with the sun, but as you can see from the photos, we are rarely without all our skin covered save our faces.

We had a deadline of 1030 to get our English companions to the Chilean border to catch their bus to San Pedro de Atacama. They were hoping for a possible 20hr bus connection to Santiago where they would be flying to Oz for 3 weeks, then on to Laos and Vietnam for another 5 weeks before returning to the UK. We have run into many travelers doing this similar circuit. Whether coming to/from the UK or Oz, they hit Asia, NZ and Oz and head over to S.A. for a spell before returning home to plan the next adventure.

Rachel and I had the Land Cruiser to ourselves for the 1 1/2 hr journey to meet the rest of the troops for lunch. After lunch we joined 4 Belgians for another brutal 6 hour journey back to Uyuni so that they could catch the overnight bus at 9pm to La Paz and we could catch our 0230 train (6hrs) south to Tupiza. The rest of the group had decided to stay an extra night and prolong the time in the Land Cruiser one more bone-jarring day.

We got back to Uyuni, crashed for 4 hours and then had to wait for the train to leave finally at 0300. We had left the tour agent in charge of getting us 2 seats in Ejectivo, but we ended up having to push and shove our way to our assigned seats in popular class (evidently Ejectivo was sold out and so was Salon class) aka with the locals as it was half the price and crowded. We had 2 seats of six facing each other with barely leg room to stretch out. After 3 days crammed in a Land Cruiser, bumping along we were not happy at 0300 in the morning for our 6hr trundle south to Tupiza. And a trundle is was. SLOW!!!

But we arrived, checked in to our hotel and slept for most of the day. After many nights of no sleep, in the cold, and on the road, we were beat. We planned the next day to rest as well and do some horse riding in the famed land of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.
http://www.traveljournals.net/stories/9307.html

Bolivia: Dangerous Road

La Paz, The Worlds Most Dangerous Road (WMDR)
4800m to 1800m over 64km on a Kona Mountain Bike with no guard rails and sheer drops of 400-900m...

So you ask yourself why in the heck would we want to do something like that? Well my dad asks the same question every time I skydive, "Why would you want to jump out of a perfectly good airplane?"

Well because it is one of the top activities to do around La Paz. The scenery is incredible and the ride....well the ride was unreal.

Gravity Assisted Mountain Biking
www.gravitybolivia.com has all the details beyond this update.

The morning started with a short one hour ride to some killer music of Metallica, Midnight Oil and AC/DC all the way up 4800m. The air was thin, freezing cold and the low mist offered no visibility either. One by one we got our bikes with a brief intro to the necessary components, donned our helmets, gloves and orange safety vests on top of our five thermal layers. It was cold!!

We gathered in a circle with our bikes around our two guides, (Guy (pronounced Gee) from Holland and JJ from Bolivia) to get our safety briefing and outline for the day. With the briefing came the blessing to Pachamama (Mother Earth). Very important on the WMDR for safety or our bikes and persons. This consisted of a bottle of 96% alcohol, taking a swig and and a splash to the ground for Pachamama. A little warmth at altitude never hurt!!

And so we set off in the freezing cold mist at 4800m zooming downhill very fast (speeds up to 60km/h). There were stops along the way to keep the group together and check that all riders were still on the road. The first stop was only 10 minutes down the road and the groups fingers were already frozen. Rachel had frost on the fringes of her hair and around her nose. My nose felt like an ice cube!! We continued on down hill thru the mist and around the turns as we approached a checkpoint where we had to walk our bikes thru. Still frozen!!

Continuing on, the rain started. My boots were soaked and my feet were now frozen as well and we hadnt even hit the uphill part. So we all stopped and 10 of the 14 riders (including Rachel and I) jumped back inside our following support bus to bypass the 5km hill and the rain. The bus offered no insulation, except shelter from the rain as the plumes of vapour from our mouths filled the interior. Happy to be out of the rain we moved on to the next stopping point, while a few nutters pedalled on uphill.

A quick snack as we waited for the other riders....this was the "official" starting point of the WMDR. The rain had stopped and we were already down a few 100m. The temp would continue to warm as we descended to 1800m. The road was now dirt and laden with rocks, washboards that shattered your spine and skull and the occasional muddy section.

My bike had front shocks while Rachel opted for an upgrade to full suspension. Thankfully so for her. We both faired quite well the next day with only a minimum of soreness from the ride.

The rest of the ride got warmer, bumpier, dirtier and more scenic. The photos are amazing and the ride back home 5hrs up the hill we had just descended on our bikes showed how vertical and twisty the road really was. Amazing and exhilirating all in one.

We made our way to the pick up point, stripped off our gear, grabbed the provided beer, took some photos, got our tshirts and loaded up in the bus for the short ride to Coroico for lunch. The best part after the ride was the hot shower included in our ride. Gravity definitely had the goods sorted out. Not a complaint about anything from safety to set up to guides to office to everything. By far the most wild thing we had done....yet!

So we set off for home...5hrs back up the WMDR in the bus. The rain set in again and darkness was not far behind. As we hit the top at 4800, freezing rain and then snow started to fall. The entire landscape and road was covered in white. We slowed a bit for safety and eased our way off the top towards La Paz. What a cool way to end our WMDR ride.

By far one of the highlights of our trip!!!

http://www.traveljournals.net/stories/9271.html

Bolivia: La Paz

A very scenic bus ride to La Paz was our reward for that horrible night’s sleep in Copa. High, snow-covered peaks, great views of the lake and open fields for miles dotted with mud brick houses. At one point we had to get off the bus to cross to the other side of Lake Titicaca. The wooden, rinky dink barge that the bus went on twisted with the weight, but somehow made it with everyone’s packs. Our trusty launch, barely went faster than idle speed, but made it safely across as well.

Back on the bus for a short hour or so into traffic choked and smog laden La Paz. It was Sunday and everybody and their brother’s sister were out shopping and traveling around the big 1.5 million person city. Upon arrival, the bus descended sharply to the actual city situated in the valley below. It looked like a kid’s toy block city, with every available inch of space clustered with buildings, people and buses.

The bus dropped us off on some road that happened to be where we wanted to look for a place to stay. After a few rather expensive enquiries, we settled, dumped our packs and caught a local bus (no, we really had no idea where we were headed even after asking a local vendor how to get to that certain part of town) to a restaurant that Rachel had picked out in our trusty Lonely Planet. After about 20 minutes and a bit of wonderment as to our location, we spotted a street sign that told us we had gotten to our destination. Within a street or two.

Another enquiry within the supermarket, (the name had changed, hence our confusion) we found our restaurant for a great burger and fries. And yes it was good. Sometimes you just need that food like home.

Returning to our hostel, we desperately wanted a shower. Having been told from other travelers about the funny showers in Bolivia, we couldn’t figure it out. Peru was straight forward like home. 2 handles, hot and cold, full force out of the head. Not so in Bolivian electric showers.

With help from reception, we got our trickle of hot water. Tricky because; two wires looking like jumper leads, connected in 4 spots ran out from the wall to the shower head, which was operated by the big fuse box switch just outside the shower stall. Hmmm....electricity and water...guess that’s why the shower handle was taped with electrical tape! Rachel still managed to shock herself once.

Well you cannot turn the shower on full force or it just goes ice cold. A little finesse, only a quarter turn to on...and voila...you have scorching hot water or a bit more and it’s ice cold again. Don’t touch the sink tap or flush the toilet or the whole process has to be repeated again. Maybe even reset the breaker with wet hands. We’ve managed so far, but it is cold day or night in our room, so the after-shower dance is quite funny to watch. Especially with the prospect of multiple day old clothes.

Monday in La Paz and our usual dilemma....what to do? Looking ahead at our time frame and distance left to cover, what countries to visit and things to see....hmmm...
We really want to do some part of the jungle and see some wildlife. Everything is so beautiful, but no animals. We enquired about some trips in Bolivia and the Amazon back in Peru, but cost and distance to travel/get there put a damper on those plans. Frankly, the options available seemed too cookie cutter for the money.

So with a wild hair we legged it to the Brazilian consulate in La Paz to see about getting a visa so that we could visit the Pantanal region that borders Bolivia/Brazil/Uruguay. Supposed to be loaded with more diversity of wildlife and opportunity to spot them than in the Amazon. We missed their hours by 30 minutes. So we planned to get up early and wait outside their doors at 0900 on Tuesday to about obtaining a Brazilian visa.

We wandered around the city actually enjoying the hustle and bustle of the streets. Vendors, businessmen, students, beggars, a few travelers and there and everything, under the sun, available for cheap. Tired, we retired for the night with our LP´s to continue planning. Not to a good night’s sleep as some damn street band played outside our window until 0300. Oh, the joys of travel....

The embassy opened and we had as much as we thought we needed. But, we needed more. The man behind the glass was very friendly, told us exactly what else we needed to copy, etc... Off we went and returned for a quick approval and off again to make our payment to the local Brazilian bank in $USD. Back again and we received our pick up slip for Thursday with our visa and passports ready to go. Hopefully all goes well, as Wednesday is Brazilian Independence Day; hence the consulate will be closed.

So with another spare day in La Paz, we signed up for the infamous mountain bike ride down The World’s Most Dangerous Road (WMDR). www.gravitybolivia.com has all the information about our ride. It is sure to be a blast!!

After our WMDR ride on Wednesday and upon collecting our Brazilian visas on Thursday, we are looking to fly out of La Paz on Friday, east to the Bolivian border town of Puerto Suarez and cross into Brazil there to hunt down a guide for our Pantanal tour.
http://www.traveljournals.net/stories/9175.html

Bolivia: Copacabana

We finally finished the Peruvian leg of our South American tour and headed off with much anticipation to Bolivia. A short 3 hour bus ride brought us to the border, where we all (tourist bus, so all travelers) unloaded, changed our Peruvian soles to Bolivians (more very thin, crinkled and always counterfeit looking funny money!!) and walked over to the Peruvian immigration to get our departure stamp. A quick scarf of a excellent tasting saltena (filled with potato and mixed veggies surrounded by a flaky pastry exterior) and we walked into Bolivia. As simple as that.

The road was crammed with street vendors selling everything under the sun, busses, vans and random dogs. Into the Bolivian immigration, 3 stamps later and our 30 days visa was granted in 30 seconds. No hassles. Another new country and only 8km to Copacabana. Not the famous beach in Rio, but a quaint little village on the shores of Lake Titicaca where another boat tour was waiting to take everybody out to Isla de Sol to see the ruins of the birthplace of the first Incas. After our last slow boat to China, we were not even tempted to investigate the tour, rather happy to just chill for the rest of the day and next morning, as our bus to La Paz did not leave until 1330.

Our hostel was bare bones to say the least, but an interesting introduction to Bolivia at a mere Bs20 for the night. (current exchange is $1USD = Bs8) The communal toilet was up or down one flight of stairs and the shower, well we never found it, therefore foregoing freezing our asses off trying to get squirt of hot water for that day. We decided to wait another day until La Paz when we could secure a bano privado. After 4 days on the Inca Trail, what was one more day?

We headed up to the sun terrace, where we met an array of other travelers from Oz, Scotland, Chile, Denmark and Finland. After we bolted off for some lunch, we rejoined the above travelers with some beers and continued chatting about our random travels and then decided to head down to the beach to get some warmth from the sun as it was slowly dipping into Lake Titicaca, promising a good view from shore side.

Rach and I were treated to a great view from the sand, surrounded by hundreds of local kids who were out and about celebrating something. Seems every little town we hit has some sort of festival going on. Sharing an incredible curry, we bundled up and decided to call it a night. Well the night actually lasted a long time as our bed was the worst ¨taco¨ anyone has ever encountered. No matter how hard we tried to scale the sides, the center pulled us in like quicksand leaving me with sore neck and Rachel with a shore back in the morning and neither one of us with a good night’s sleep. Well for $2.50USD total, I guess in the end you get what you pay for!

Well, the next day we were off to La Paz and sure to find a better bed to sleep in and a much needed shower.