Bolivian Adventures

COUNTRY: Peru
PROGRAM: GapBreak
PROJECT: Teaching & Building
WRITTEN BY: Ollie Lotz

Forgive me padres (the plural of father becomes parents in espanol) for i have sinned. I´ve delayed this blog far too much. No, don´t try to excuse me for the lack of internet in Bolivia, or the intense schedule we´ve forced upon ourselves. I will have to suffer through my shame until the net-priest absolves me.

Let´s keep some continuity and start where we left off, Titicaca. Our band split in half for the first weekend, so for convenience´ sake let´s call those that went the ´A-Team´ and those that stayed the SLAG (Slightly Less Adventurous Guys). That`ll get some feedback. I of course have no bias whatsoever. An overnight Sunday bus brought us to Copacabana, a small town just across the Bolivian border, and access point to La Isla Del Sol. This island is supposedly where Manco Capac Inka, the first of the famous rulers, came down from the sky as the son of the sun.

There are alternate stories about the ambitious family emerging from caves, but that just sounds ridiculous to me. Nowadays, site´s include the temple of the sun, some hilltop settlements, and a puma rock, which is both the namesake of the lake and the monument we couldn´t find. Naturally, we got a ride over to have a look. South America can demand its own pace sometimes, this being no exception. There are two or three boats across every day, each taking between 2 and three hours. It seemed more logical to stay the night there. So, for 20 Bolivianos, or almost $3, we each got a bed in a beachside villa of sorts on the north side of the island.


As you might expect, we took a quick dip in the ´world´s highest navigable lake,´ a vague sort of record, and praised the sun in perhaps the most appropriate place in the world. Bragging rights; tick. It was a bit chilly, but we´re young and stupid enough to bear it. At this point I have to say that the sunset was impressive to watch, and that Jasper did a good job choosing his shortcut over the mountains on our way back from the ruins. There´s nothing like a moonlit cliff descent to help you appreciate the simple things, like flat ground.

The next morning, because we were all that degree of masochistic we like to call enthusiastic, we set off at 5.30 am along the coastal route to the south side of the island for the first boat to Copacabana. It was no accident that we saw the sun rise from halfway up the mountains on the `Island of The Sun` during our refreshing 2 hour hike. Bragging rights; double tick. This is one example of the exertions we´re putting ourselves through to make Salkantay that little bit less like death incarnate. For those that don´t know, which would have to be most, the ´Inca Trail´ is not the only hike to Macchu Picchu.

We´re booked into a 5 day that has something to do with a snow-capped mountain of the same name. But I´m getting ahead of myself. Apart from the sick that met us in Copacabana, everyone seemed to enjoy the walk. I certainly did. Our surprise reward was to find a small forest of eucalyptus trees for that taste of home we´d been craving.

So, that Sunday we bounced our way through Copacabana back to Puno, where we began a tour of the Uros Islands, which are made entirely of floating Totora reeds. We got an explanation of the practical side of living on a pile of floating shrubbery, and learned a bit of Aymara, the local language. `Kamasaraki` means hello at any time of day or I love you. The reply is `gwaliki.` Penny took it to the next level by sinking her foot through a decayed section. Yep, there´s a lake there. We also got an idea of how dreadfully commercialised many of these lives have become through a combination of optional extras to milk tourists, songs in multiple languages before the tip hand came round, and a young daughter that has a routine of showing you a reed house, then leading you straight to a shop. Pity.

This is where the A-team parted ways. We had the opportunity to stay on the second reed island, and six of us took it. It was a stormy night, but Romero made it all better by serving us up the most delicious trout I`ve ever had, from the lake of course. Certainly an experience. The next day those that left us continued their Cusco schedules as per usual, while we killed some time on the island before our ride back to Puno. Seeing as the other two islands of interest, Taquile and Amantani couldn`t be got to that day we decided to visit the Sillustani Burial Towers instead, which grace some lakeside hills about an hour away.

The transport provided by the tour was appreciated, but the guide`s information was almost completely `guessable.` These structures are mostly pre-Inca, have changed style over time, only the wealthy got real-estate, it`s a sacred site, they praised the sun here...Myles reckons he understood the explanations more clearly in Spanish than English. I was interested to find out that they serve as lightning rods because of the high iron content of the stone, which isn`t great for long term appreciation. As a result, it`s hard to tell what`s original and what`s been restored. However, the signature tower is 12m high and quite wide, certainly an achievement for the centuries ago it was meant to have been constructed. A relaxed night bus back marked the end of an incredible weekend.

So what did the SLAG get up to? The original plan was an adrenaline filled line-up of paintball, naked bungee jumping (so that it becomes free), quad biking and merry making. However, Michelle landed up in the clinic, and they didn`t want her to miss everything. From what I gather, what actually happened was a lot of eating, a few movies and some clubbing. Enough said.

School followed the routine we seem to have established, except for two novelties. The first was a surprise lunch thrown for us in thanks for funding the year 6 graduation excursion to lake Titicaca, an experience that we`ve been told will blow their minds. The event involved some songs and poetry from the often shy children, before everyone receiving a mountain of food. Some among us just couldn`t restrict themselves to one plate of roast pork, potatoes, bread, and corn mush, so they burned through another few people`s meat and crackling. I think that`s a testament to the anonymous masterchef they had out back. The cherry on top was the strikingly colourful poncho and beanie that graced Mackenzie`s shoulders as a representative of the group. We`ve been told they`re traditional.

Secondly, we were lucky enough to tag along on their annual school excursion. First up was the Dino-park in Oropaesa, where we met them at a Peruvian 9.30. Being a foolish gringo, I`d misunderstood the concept of a dinosaur park. The only educational morsel we could find was the names below the giant model dinosaurs that dotted this fun park. The kids loved it, but not as much as a certain teacher that took a photo with every single model. Fun for all ages.

We then took the bus to nearby Tipon, reknowned for their cuy, otherwise known as guineau pig. I`m sure they`re delightful pets, but we were more interested in their culinary characteristics, and took the opportunity for a bite while the children had their lunch. Nice flavour, not much meat, but lovely thick skin. The heads were a bit off putting, though. The day then finished with a different play ground behind a swimming pool complex nearby. Apparently last year they went to Urubamba. It doesn`t make much sense to me, but the kids loved it.

House visits began this fortnight, well house visit. I`m not sure what the difficulty was with the second, but those that went on the first found it quite an eye-opener. They said the most obvious problem upon enterring the house was the lack of a chimney, certainly not what I would have expected. The ambient smoke was hard to bear for even a few minutes. The next priority is helping to start up a personal business of some sort for an income, followed by beds. Problems started when the children`s father left. There`s still a bit of discussion that needs to happen among those that were assigned to that home.

The wall grows, and we`ve bridged the river with cement now.

Now for some miscellaneous information. I apologise for the damage done to Julz`s reputation. I hadn`t corrected the mistake in the copy that was circulated. It was Ruby. Moving on. Devika had a ride through the clinic, but recovered quickly. We`ve observed that at least a quarter of all tourists are german, with Aussies making a solid appearance too. I think it`s a beautiful irony that salad is the least healthy thing you can eat because of the combo that it is washed thoroughly in tap water and not cooked. Lettuce is a prime offender.

The absence is more pronounced for some than others. The carbs continue. I have three more things to add to the picture of Cusco building in your minds. particularly around the centre, there`re young boys offerring to shine shoes, despite the lack of leather in the modern wardrobe, club promoters, which swarm at night, and an abundancy of street stalls run by old women, without exception. These serve as mini convenience stores, simple snacks, or purveyors of jugs of drinks along the lines of juice, but with quinoa or sweet corn to enliven the mix. We all started off squeamish about rejecting the flood of offers you receive from the street on a daily basis, but now our immunities`ve built and we`re able to ignore them all like the arrogant gringos we must appear to be. Aren`t you proud?

Fun facts: There`s an expression in Cusco, and who knows where else, that goes `Soltero maduro, maricon seguro.` This roughly translates as, if you`re old and single you`re definitely gay. It hints at the conservative stigma surrounding such issues. However, the cities seem to follow the general trend of liberalising with more contact to the outside world and urbanisation. Don`t mistake Cusco`s rainbow flag. It`s meant to represent the colours of the Andes, rather than any form of acceptance. Secondly, word on the Bolivian grape vine is that peruvians enter their country to commit crimes, then cross the border till the heat dies down. Apparently, other South Americans are too nice to do this.

Finally, the second weekend will take us to the end of this episode. I`ll keep it to what I knew at the time, then give a full picture next blog. We split into three groups on the friday; those flying to Ecuador, the 13 heading straight for the salt flats of Uyuni via la Paz, and the 4 going to Copacabana, having previously done Uyuni. I was with the herd, which arrived to a very cold ghost town early Sunday morning. We`re talking below zero.

Upon the bus conductor`s recommendation, we stampeded into a hotel, then, upon realising that everyone wanted to do the three day tour, and that we`d better get started, we no longer needed the rooms. It seems that the town`s only drops of life come from this tourist route, and there`re hordes of indecipherable companies flocking the streets to prove it.

That first day brought us to the `Cementario de Trenes,` which is a dumping ground for between 5 and 30 trains in various states of rusty wholeness. A good climb through the bowels of the beasts, and a train track that stretched out to nowhere converted even the doubters that it was worth our ten minutes. We were then driven to a hotel made of salt bricks in the middle of the dry lake for lunch. Let`s just say this was another great photo-op, with flat white stretching to the mountains far in the distance. Next was La Isla Incahuasi, which is a few more kilometres in and covered in cacti. 12 feet cacti above ancient coral is quite a contrast, and hints at the enormous lakes that used to exist. There was llama steak to finish off the day in our remote hotel, also made of salt.

Cliffhanger...