Brilliant Sunsets over LAKE TITICACA

DAY 28

Copacabana:  We took a 3 ½ hour bus ride to Copacabana on the Bolivian side of Lake Titicaca, the highest navigable lake in the world. Along the roadside, more ladies in traditional dress tended to fields of quinoa or herded sheep, bulls, pigs, and other livestock.  What the men do in this country is beyond me.

After about 2 ½ hours, we had to disembark from the bus, take a boat across the lake, and meet up with the bus again on the other side. From that point on, it was an uphill climb towards Copacabana.

Once we reached Copacabana, it was more uphill climbing on foot to our hilltop hostel—an Arabian-style hostel with gardens, statues, hammocks, and a grand view of Lake Titicaca. 

Once settled in, we took a stroll down to the lake. Vendors were renting out every variety of boat imaginable from kayaks, tacky swan paddle boats, and reed boats in the shape of dragons.  Restaurants with identical bland menus of trout, potatoes, rice, vegetables, and quinoa soup lined the dirt boardwalk.  Thankfully, the lake was not overwhelmingly swarming with tourists, so we were able to settle in on a quiet, warm patch of rocks.

Unfortunately, our peaceful moment by the lake was soon interrupted by a duo of borrachos who attempted to feed us some unknown alcohol from a juice bottle and read our fortune in a deck of cards.  Noting our queue to leave, we headed to town to check out the street market and Carnaval festivities in town.

After taking care of a few logistics, we climbed the steepest hill we could find for a view of the sunset over Lake Titicaca. As with most terrain around here, the “hill”, Cierro Calvaio, was nothing to sneeze at. A steep incline of rocks climbed straight up to an elevation of 4,000 meters.  As the slant was quite an intimidating one, mom decided to stay near the bottom as I scrambled up for a better view.

Just as the sun was beginning to set, lo and behold, I see mom standing at the summit.

“I had to prove to my daughter that I’m not old,” she said.

Duly noted, I swore off all old jokes for at least a week.

DAY 29

Isla del Sol:  According to Incan mythology, this island is said to be where the sun was first born—understandably so, as the island’s peak sits at a lofty 4,000 meter altitude, as close to the sun as we’d like to come we soon found out.  The island is surrounded by Lake Titicaca’s dazzlingly bright water which reflects the island’s essential creation like a mirror broken into a million pieces.  Despite the chilly climate, heat from the sun managed to cook through our clothing and warm our skin beneath.

After a 2 ½ hour boat ride, we ported into Cha’llapampa on the north side of the island.  From there, I had just enough time for to hike through terraced hillside farms and pre-Inca ruins to catch some beautiful views of the lake below.  At Cha’llapampa’s peak, I was also able to see the void amongst a triangle of islands where the sunken city of Marca Pampa lives.  Afterwards, I sprinted down to meet mom by the beachside to set off by boat toward the island’s south. 

Yumani, the island’s southern city, is settled at an elevation of more than 4,000 meters.  There are no streets, addresses, or alternative modes of transportation other than your own two feet.  So we walked.  The 1 ½ hour climb was certainly not an easy one at that high of an elevation.  Any wrong turn easily burned an entire day’s worth of calories and was sure to intensify the sunburn that we got earlier that morning.  The only way to find the hostel was asking livestock-laden locals if we were headed the right direction. 

“Si, mas arriba” they kept saying as they pointed toward the sky. 

80-year-old women carrying piles of firewood equivalent to their own weight and children carrying other children in blankets on their backs seemed to almost snicker as they responded in their lighthearted manner, as if the climb was really no big deal.

Eventually, when we were close, a young farmhand left the livestock that she was tending to in order to get us to the right place.

Mom cursed and spat her way up the rest of the monstrous hill (without actually cursing or spitting, of course) as I attempted to chat it up with the friendly young lady between breaths.  Upon reaching the top, I was speechless. The 360-degree view of the island was absolutely mind-blowing.  From any position, a gorgeous vista overlooking a different part of the island, lake, or Cordillera Mountains was within reach. 

Furthermore, I was struck by the simple beauty of the pueblo that sat atop the island.  Although the village was small, there were cliff-top restaurant cafes next to simple adobe houses next to all varieties of livestock—all  with jaw-dropping views of the lake and surrounding islands.  More terraced hillside farms with colorfully dressed women lined the island’s mountainside which dropped steeply beneath the town.

 We went to one of the few small restaurants in town, where it turns out the young farmhand was also the cook.  Small village.  As soon as the sun sank deep beneath the hillside, millions of stars illuminated the night sky alongside a bright sliver of a crescent moon.  This naturally beautiful, hard to reach place, was certainly worth the trek as it was an authentic look into simple, daily Bolivian life on one helluva beautiful island.

DAY 30

We awoke early in the morning by the light of the sun shining through our window.  Too alive to go back to sleep, we strolled down toward the boat dock, which only took 30 minutes on the way down.  As it was still early, we were the first ones there.  Slowly, we watched the sleepy town wake up.  Boat operators came down to ready the boats with gasoline and life jackets, passengers stumbled down the “Inca Stairway” one by one, waves in the lake intensified, and the sun gradually burned off distant clouds revealing the snow-drenched Cordillera Mountains on the horizon.

We loaded a boat that held more people than considered safe, and headed back to Copacabana.  As we only had 50 Bolivianos (the equivalent of around $7) at the time of our landing, we decided to hit up the street markets to make our own lunch.  In Bolivia, $7 can get you a lot.  We gathered items for a feast of homemade sandwiches, soup, yogurt, fresh fruit, and tea with some change to spare.

After watching some Carnaval celebrations in town, we turned in early to the sound of fireworks until 1 a.m.

DAY 31

After a delicious breakfast and easy morning at the hostel, we set off towards Puno, Peru on the other side of Lake Titicaca.  We reached the border in less than 30 minutes after setting off.  Slight changes in the scenery became evident.  The houses became more modern in style, yellow flowers covered the landscape, and simple advertisements for presidential candidates were painted on the sides of fences and barns (as it is election year for Peru).

Unfortunately, due to our lack of internet access at the previous port, we were unable to book a hostel and had to settle for a cheap hotel instead.  After exploring our neighborhood, we turned in to our simple dark room with the only window facing a concrete wall.

DAY 32

Floating Islands of the Uros:  Today, we visited the highly commercialized "Islas Flotanas"--the floating islands of the Uros people.  The Uros, a timid pre-Inca population, were chased from their home on the coast of Lake TIticaca by the domineering Incas.  In order to survive, they built artificial islands from reeds in the lake.  The basis of every part of their existence--transportation, lodging, income, and nutrition--relies on these reeds.

The nutritional variation of the families on the islands is narrow.  They survive on the small amount of livestock they raise, fish, edible reeds, and dried potatoes.  Luxuries in the form of fresh fruits and vegetables, fresh bread, and dairy are hard to come by.

Our boat was one of many to visit the islands, around 75 in all, each housing a different family.  At the first island, we were greeted by a song-and-dance by the family that lived there.  After a small introduction to how they built the island (very fascinating!), we were swept away by a young mother into her humble reed home.  Inside contained one reed mattress for her husband, son, and her to share, some woven decorations, and a few changes of clothes.

After playing dress-up with her clothes and checking our her "market" of wares, we headed off to island #2--a purely commercial island with restaurants, faux passport stamps, handmade crafts, and overpriced beverages catered for the tourists that stop there.

Although the history of the floating islands and the lifestyle of the Uros people are fascinating, it was a bit disheartening to see the entire population's livelihood based on tourism.  The tour operator assured us that other than the few hours each day when tour groups visit, they operate in their routine, traditional fashion, including changing into less flashy clothing, trading food with other families, and maintaining the construction of their island and homes.  Unfortunately, this was not the lifestyle that we got to see.