Posts Tagged island

When an island is named Isla del Sol, one might expect a certain amount of sun. But I’ve been on the imperfectly named island for an hour or so, and have decided to rename it Isla de la Lluvia. Or, peude ser, Isla de las Argentinas Lindas. I think it’s a university holiday and Copacabana and the island is completely overrun with hundreds of beautiful Argentine girls and a few awkwardly indigenously dressed Argentine boys. The boys are all wearing those stripey pants, woven sweaters and llama wool caps that are so ubiquitous in the markets. And they’re all carrying stringed instruments everywhere. It’s a little bit like in Coming to America when Eddie Murphy and Arsenio Hall move to New York and they decide to blend in by wearing I Love New York shirts and buttons and whatnot. Although Yours Truly does in fact stand out like the sorest thumb in all of Bolivia, so I really shouldn’t talk.

Climbing the Inca Steps:

Also, I’m living it up in Copacabana in a huge room all to myself with three beds and cable television and a decent breakfast and semi-warm water in the shower. I’m probably paying more for it than any other tourist in town, and it’s still only $11 a night. So that’s nice. But the combination of mucha lluvia and cable television (a Lost marathon!) is turning out to be pretty dangerous.

Edit, 5 hours later:
The sun appeared, if only for a couple of hours at midday. So I booked a night at Hosteria de Las Islas for tomorrow night, and trekked a bit around the South end of the island to look for Templo Pilcocaina, and got a little lost traipsing through tiny terraced potato fields before finding it. It was, and is, old. And ruiny. Tomorrow I’m coming back and doing the whole tour of the island, and may have more descriptive information to impart.

Wet Llamas:

Also, I got slightly hoodwinked today. Upon arriving on the island, I promptly headed to the shack advertising 4:00 departures back to Copacabana and bought a ticket back, just in case the Argentine hoardes might fill the boats up. When I arrived back at the dock at 3:30, I asked a few people which boat I was supposed to take, and they all told me that the company on my ticket didn’t actually have 4:00 departures back to Copacabana. And the shack at which I bought it was deserted. And my ticket conveniently didn’t have a time written on it. So I bought another ticket from an equally reputable-looking man sitting on a log. All in all, I was only duped for 20 Bolivianos, which is like three dollars. But still!

Reed Boat at El Puerto Turistico:

Edit, next day:
I came back to the island and took a proper tour with a little Aymara man and Cami and Elsa today. It was much more interesting on the North end of the island, and the weather was about a thousand times nicer, so I had a beautiful time. We saw the birthplace of the Inca god of the sun, and a little island solely populated by virgenes. And I got the worst sunburn of my South American adventure thus far because I was expecting more rain & so didn’t put on much sunblock. I look like a beet. With a peeling nose.

Hiking the Ridge of isla del Sol:

Edit, next day:
Sunburnt, rainy. Catching the ferry back to Copacabana and it seems like the Argentines have left Bolivia; my embarque is full of gringos from the Commonwealth who really like to talk. I’m a bit grumpy, though, as I didn’t bring enough money to the island to buy meals and water, so I’m anxious to get back to Copa to get some suspicious, delicious Bolivian food and refreshing industrial water.

Edit, next day:
Arrived back on the mainland and rejoined my French/British/Honduran compadres for an amazing, spicy and quaint Mexican meal and a walk up to the Virgin peak in town from which we saw an amazing sunset over the entire pueblito and had the opportunity to purchase myriad miniature cars, trucks, and what looked like Mr. Brady style 70s condominiums for blessing by the virgin. But I chose not to purchase any, and took photos instead:

I now find myself on the road to Puno with Cami and Elsa. My anxiety about the Peruvian border crossing turned out to be unfounded; I guess the $140 I paid in Uyuni for a visa was actually legit. The Colombian border may be a bit different. I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. So to speak.

And finally:
Bolivia is different. It’s the poorest country in South America, and you can tell. The people are incredibly nice and hospitable and soft spoken. And lodging, meals and sundries are cheap. The countryside is beautiful, and the buses haven’t been bad at all. But I have been taking turisticos (as opposed to publicos, which only cost maybe a dollar more), so that may be why I’ve been so comfortable.

Plus:
Peru is in a state of National emergency due to widespread flooding and mudslides. I saw on the television news this morning that hundreds of turistas are stranded in Aguas Calientes and hygenic conditions are deteriorating because so much infrastructure has been destroyed by flooded rivers and the storms. And Macchu Picchu is closed. So I may have to wait a little while to tackle that bit of adventure.

Your Intrepid Correspondent.