Day 129

I know it has been ages since I've written. And now without further dallying, I shall bring you up to date on my current ecapades.

So, to decide where to bring you up to date, my arrival in Bolivia seems to be a good spot, Friday. I arrived at La Quiaca, Argentina, on the frontier, to find that, yes, the border was open (it has been opening and closing spontaneously with general strikes lately, they're drafting a new constitution right now). The border was straight forward enough, took a taxi to the crossing, line up, get my stamp out of Argentina, walk over the bridge, get it stamped on the other.

Welcome to Bolivia!

Now on the Bolivian side, Villazon, I change my money into bolivianos, and march to the bus station, and try to get a direct bus to La Paz. The bus was full, so I got a bus to Oruro, 3 hours south of La Paz. That was when I emailed you during the wait for my bus, I got some empanadas and some Oreo's and sat on the curb munching happily until my bus showed up. I managed to get the busses mixed up, as the bus to La Paz had arrived at the same time, and it wasnt until the ticket boy saw me that I was set straight.

Onto the bus, which was getting back to South American standards; Argentine buses are much more upscale. it was good though, and efficient. The trip was good, the driver roared the whole way to Oruro, there was an immensely fat woman behind me that kept groaning and farting. Arriving in Oruro, which had the appearance of a barren wasteland. It's quite a large city, so there must have been something there, but nothing I saw. Got an early bus to La Paz, which was uneventful, there was an old woman sitting next me eating empanadas. We arrived in La Paz winding down into the vast city of red. It appears that all the buildings are made of brick, with aluminum roofs.

The bus terminal was a big, modern thing, not what I was expecting of the capital of South America's poorest nation. After wandering around the terminal, looking at all the companies, I got a ticket to Copacabana. With that, I got some lunch, beans and rice, yes, back in the South America I was so accustomed to. When the time came around, had to get a ticket to board the bus, for using the terminal, which cost 2 bolivianos, or about 25 cents. The bus was, notably, full of foreigners, all evidently coming to see the fabled Lake Titicaca. The bus climbed up out of La Paz, and it took about 3 hours to get to Tiquina, where they stopped, had everyone get off the bus, so they could load it on a barge to get it across the lake, all of us had to buy another ticket to get a different boat over. On the other side, they checked our passports and we pile back onto the bus, and on we roll, arriving at Copacabana at sunset. Its getting cold, so I head off in search of a place to stay, of which there are hundreds in this resort town. Somehow, despite appearances, I found that everywhere was full, and began to panic a little as I went from place to place been told "No hay camas" There are no beds. After an hour of going around, I found this one place, which had a room for 3, and was charging me 150 bolivianos ($21 dollars, extraordinarily high for Bolivia, because he knew I had no else to go. I told him it would be easy, as I there were many other backpackers wandering around town like me. The room was on the very top floor, the shower had no hot water, but I had a place to stay. So I went out in search of people to share my room with. After wandering around for a little, I met this Swedish fellow, Richard, who readily agreed to take one of the beds. Now relieved, we went out to find a 3rd person. This proved more difficult, as it appeared that all the single travellers had disappeared, leaving couples, and larger groups, who we found were unwilling to split up. We advertised up and town the main street. Found no one, and sat down on and had dinner, watching the street. There was a girl that passed by, but she shied away from the 50 bolivianos. We told her if she couldn-t find anything, we-d be having dinner for a while. She never came back. Richard and I checked prices for the boat to the Isla del Sol for the next day, the big island on Lake Titicaca, and went back to the room, only 2. Slept well that night, and woke early. Its always cold here. Packed up and left the overpriced hostel, grabbed breakfast (thankfully, they eat real breakfast in Bolivia) and I found a new hostel, its more like a hotel, that was only going to charge me 40 bolivianos ($7, still high for Bolivia, but it clean and better kept). Heading out, we bought tickets to the island, but Richard was only doing the half day, so he took a different boat, I never saw him again. The boat is PAINFULLY slow, and it took nearly 3 and half hours to reach the island. On the way, I came to know a pair of Americans and a pair of Brits, who were travelling together, and listened them complain about the entry visa (Americans must pay $100 US, in US dollars, at the border) and this Argentine, Jorge, who was on vacation with his family, and, of all things, wrote rap music.

Arriving on the island, we bought entry tickets to the island, and I went around with the 4, with a guide leading us around and telling us about the major sites, many of them pre-incan. There was a lot of walking involved, which apparently the 4 didnt like, and went back early. I stayed on, and walked the long road, from the north of the island to the south. Met a Argentine woman along the way, talked about how cool it was to be out here, I didnt learn her name, but I found out she had 2 sons around my age, and how theyd probably love to be out here doing this. All along the road, we were swarmed by groups of little children, asking for candy. Apprently, many tourists carry sweets to give to the local children, thus this rather nasty habit. After many ups and downs, we made it to the south of the island just in time to get the boat home. Another long boat trip back, in which I was entertained by these excitable Brazilian girls, who appeared to be quite rich, by their appearance, taking pictures of everything and dancing to music on their cell phones. Many people were getting antsy, as they wanted to get back in time to catch buses to La Paz or Puno. We got back eventually, and beelined to my new hostal, where I had a nice hot shower, and cleaned up, then went out in search of dinner. Got flagged by an advertising man on the street, and, being in the mood for pizza, took his offer. The place was nice, and the pizza delicous, but there was an Argentine woman singing there that night, serenading everyone as we ate. Finished there, and walked out the door, and there, on the street, were Saul and Antonio, the Spaniard and Brazilian who I had met in Buenos Aires nearly a month ago. After an energetic meeting, we talked about where we'd been, and how we were doing. They went on to a party, and I, tired from the long hike on the Isla, went back to my hostal, and fell blissfully asleep.

This brings us to today, I've been out buying, selling and repairing my things, some of which are quite worn at this point in my trip.