Bolivia: Isla del Sol and Copacabana

After a night of sleeping in the airport most people look forward to catching some Z's in a bed... in our case... a buscama... A bus full of recliner chairs that you should be able to sleep on (should being the operative word). However, the combination of the frigid air and the 200 pound indigenous grandma backing her tush up into me, throughout the night, resulted in what I would consider a less than pleasant sleep. At some point the next morning when I was dozing and and out I heard the bus driver say "Copacabana". I quickly opened my eyes to notice that the four boys were fast asleep. In somewhat of a mad rash I awoke the slumberous cherubs and we quickly excited the buscama, realizing that had I not been such a light sleeper we would have ended up in the middle of nowhere. Oh wait, we did anyway. When the bus pulled away it revealed a landscape that was, for lack of a better term, confusing. We were not at a bus station, we were not in a town, we were in the middle of a dusty desert in Perú where nothing could be seen for miles... except the two white sketchy vans full of indigenous Peruvians that became our only escape option.

While in these questionable vehicles that would be perceived as pedophile vans in the States, we met a woman who asked if we would like to enter the country legally or illegally. Fact. U.S citizens have to pay $135.00 to enter Bolivia because their government and just about everyone else in the country hates Americans. While I can't say we entered the country through a sewage pipe or hidden in a trunk of a car (although that would have been epic), I also can't say we entered the country legally. When the BC Gringos arrived at the Peruvian/Bolivian border (pictured below) we decided to present our Ecuadorian Residency cards in place of our passports. I mean, how strict could their border patrol be when their border was comprised of a rusty chain that didn't cover the entirety of the road? Once Perú allowed us to leave their country with our Censos we made our way to the Bolivian office where we were greeted by a man who hated America so much you could have sworn he was the illegitimate child of Osama Bin Laden and Fidel Castro. After a 20 minute screaming match he accepted our collective bribe of $100 and allowed us to enter. 

Once we finally arrived to Copacabana, Bolivia we bought our boat tickets to Isla del Sol and then relaxed and had lunch by the water. It's crazy that a week before we had no plans of visiting Bolivia at all but, there we were, illegals ordering trout by the waterside. Life is good. At 1PM we took an hour long boat ride from Copacabana to Isla del Sol which is located in Lake Titicaca, the highest freshwater lake in the world. While on the boat, I had my feet up leaning against the window sill until a grouchy Bolivian told me that I was not on vacation and ordered me to sit properly. Last time I checked, I was on vacation but that's besides the point. Point is... Bolivian people really do not like Americans and Jessie really does not like Bolivian people. Pictured Below: Copacabana

When we arrived to Isla del Sol we rented a mule to carry our bags up the mountain which was literally an hour trek of doom in the blazing sun. This arduous task was completely made worth it when we arrived at Inti Kala, our hotel. The view from our porch was absolutely indescribable and, hands down, the most beautiful view from a hotel room I plan on ever seeing in my life (the picture below does not do it justice). Isla del Sol has no paved roads, no cars, no street lights, no nothing. It is quaint, hidden, and unbelievably beautiful. The island is self-sustainable and, for that reason, there was not a lot of variety between restaurants. By that I mean you were either eating, trout, meat, pasta that tasted like ketchup, or Pizza. When the sun faded, we hiked up to the highest point with flashlights, looked over the lake, and felt the sheer isolation of this incredible island that days before we didn't know existed. 

The next day was Halloween! None of us, however, realized until about noon. We woke up at the god awful hour of 6AM to eat breakfast and meet Efrane, a Bolivian who took us on his boat from Isla del Sol to Isla de la Luna an adjacent island home to 50 people. When we arrived he showed us the trail and told us that it would lead to Inca Ruins. The island is believed, by the Bolivians, to be the birthplace of the Inca civilization. The ruins were very interesting and it was nice to sit overlooking the mountain in complete silence, left with our thoughts. Note: if you ever consider taking a picture of a mule or sheep in Bolivia... DON'T... someone will be standing behind you asking for payment afterwards.

We then got back on the boat and enjoyed a ride on top through the sunny Bolivian waters towards the North Side of the island where we ate lunch. Shortly after we set out on a four hour hike from the North towards the South of the island where our hotel was located. While I was not particularly jumping for joy at the thought of a hike days before a 4-day hike through Perú, I can say with confidence that this day turned out to be my favorite of the entire trip and the beautiful scenery and deep conversations that filled the afternoon had a lot to do with it. At every corner the island became more beautiful and by the time we had reached our hotel I found myself yearning for more. 

That night, after dinner, we had a brilliant idea that I, unfortunately, cannot write about on a public forum... and I suppose I will leave it at that. However, the next morning we woke up early, had our last breakfast, and completed an hour hike with our bags to some other Inca Ruins where we were picked up by good old Efrane and his brother on their boat. After a 45 minute boat ride we were back on mainland, Copacabana. After another harborside lunch we boarded a bus to Puno, Perú. The last memory I will have of Bolivia was the public toilet flushing system which involves filling up a bucket of water and manually draining the toilet as flies swarm your body. Well, I guess that would have been the last memory had we not been detained at the border... for that story please refer to my next blog post.