1-11-09
It just occured to me to put the dates of when these were written because I don´t post them for days after. The sequence is European, day/month/year. It´s amazing how backwards the states are in everything. My fellow travelers look at me with glazed eyes when I tell them how many miles I´ve travelled or how high we are in feet. Why couldn´t King whoever have had a ten inch foot! We´d all be in the same page.
Linda manages to find the right line and we make our way onto the bus. One quick prayer for my luggage and on I go. It´s now 10:50 and we were supposed to be on our way at ten. We have learned not to be early now. Licky for us our double decker bus is full of fellow nomads, weary and scared. We feel safe enough to let our guard down and go to sleep, hoping that our day packs will be there under our seats when we awake. The tempature drops to 50 degrees in the bus and now I am angry that I declined a blanket. Such is life and the learning process begins.
I am awoken to our caretaker hurrying us to get off the bus. Peeking through the thin drapes, I peer out the window expecting to find the sleepy town of Copacobana on the shores of Lake Titicaca. Instead I see desert. Miles of dry and barren land in every direction. Why are we being ushered off our bus? Our bags are already on the dirt waiting for us. One by one we gather our things and are directed to a very small bus, a van really. It looks older than any Inca ruin I have seen but the motor is running so we get on. Our driver takes us to the border of Peru and Bolivia and seems annoyed that he has to wait for me to get a Visa. No other forgeiners need a Visa for Bolivia but since America declared a war on drugs (Bolivia´s number one export, and 80% of it to the U.S.A., this is how they responded). Another 40 minutes to Lake Titicaca. A small Bolivian boy and his father, who we squeezed in along the way, sit facing me and stare with faint interest at my skin and fair color.
Finally we arrive and gather our belongings to begin a short hike up hill to our Hostel. Copacobana is a quiet religious town thriving only because it sits next to Lake Titicaca. The lake is a massive body of water at 3820m (12,532 feet) with two notable islands. Isle del Sol is the birthplace of the sun in Incan mythology. After staying one night in Copacobana we will take a two hour boat ride on the worlds highest navigable body of water and stay on the island.
At Copacobana near our hostel we found a local church that was built with a Moorish influence between 1605 and 1820. The locals make long pilgrimages to see the monk who blesses them for health and prosperity. I snuck a picture here while he was meditating (highly discouraged). There is a chasm behind the church where for hundreds of years they light candles in hommage to the Virgin Mary. Wax covers the floors and the walls are black with soot. It is called Capilla de Vellos and if you ever visit, don´t miss it.
Linda and I will spend a quiet night here watching the sun dip over one of the world´s highest lakes. We have no idea what to expect but have been told that for $5 U.S. we can get a room with a view of the lake. We have to be willing to lug or packs up 200 meters of stairs but why not? We are used to the abuse!
Anyway...it´s 9:30 pm and Linda and I are rushing like mad lamas to make our bus from Cusco to Copacobana, Bolivia. We have not travelled by bus yet but were quite accurate in assuming that it would be a mad house. The station is cold and buzzing with an uncontrolled, incohearant level of noise and excitement. We seem to be the only two travellers lost in its sea of irrational composition. But when I slow down, breath deep and let the noise fade and the movement slow, I see another picture. I begin to see the other scared faces speckled throughout the crowd; travellers like us, who have no clue where they are supposed to be. We are all clutching our packs, white knuckling it through the mass of locals, dogs, vendors and pick pockets trying to find our platform.
I am awoken to our caretaker hurrying us to get off the bus. Peeking through the thin drapes, I peer out the window expecting to find the sleepy town of Copacobana on the shores of Lake Titicaca. Instead I see desert. Miles of dry and barren land in every direction. Why are we being ushered off our bus? Our bags are already on the dirt waiting for us. One by one we gather our things and are directed to a very small bus, a van really. It looks older than any Inca ruin I have seen but the motor is running so we get on. Our driver takes us to the border of Peru and Bolivia and seems annoyed that he has to wait for me to get a Visa. No other forgeiners need a Visa for Bolivia but since America declared a war on drugs (Bolivia´s number one export, and 80% of it to the U.S.A., this is how they responded). Another 40 minutes to Lake Titicaca. A small Bolivian boy and his father, who we squeezed in along the way, sit facing me and stare with faint interest at my skin and fair color.
Finally we arrive and gather our belongings to begin a short hike up hill to our Hostel. Copacobana is a quiet religious town thriving only because it sits next to Lake Titicaca. The lake is a massive body of water at 3820m (12,532 feet) with two notable islands. Isle del Sol is the birthplace of the sun in Incan mythology. After staying one night in Copacobana we will take a two hour boat ride on the worlds highest navigable body of water and stay on the island.
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