Maria had a little lamb

Alarm – eeek!

Shower, dress, pack, check out – adios, La Cupula!

Bus office: forms, forms, forms: bus manifest, Bolivian Customs, Peru immigration – check!

Slight delay: unkempt young travellers running late.

Crosses on roof ridges on Bolivian houses: most simple corrugated iron designs, but some more intricate, with wreath designs and replica reed boats.

15 minutes’ drive then stamp, stamp: adios, Bolivia!

3 minute walk then stamp, stamp: bienvenido al Peru! 90 days, but I won’t need them all.

Sheep grazing. Llamas grazing. Donkeys pulling ploughs and carrying brightly coloured bundles. Pigs grazing and wallowing – multi-taskers – or should that be multi-tuskers? Ha!

An army base – looks run down, with glass broken in every window of the biggest building – but, no! Soldiers guarding the gate and the red and white flag flying high.

Blue bay of multi-striped small boats and fish farms.

Green toilet country. Blue toilet country.

Two kids flying gaudy plastic kites – great breeze for it. Laughter!

Working bee building house foundations: women carting large pails of water, men struggling under the weight of large boulders.

Brown toilet country – they’re new since last year.

Snoozing … zzzzz …

5 minute changeover at Puno, then …

Last views of Titicaca, highest of the big lakes.

Wide landscapes of patchwork crops and wetlands.

Big skies! BIG skies! HUGE skies, with cotton-wool clouds.

1st stop: Juliaca, hellhole of Peru.

New companions: tired-looking mother, tired-looking young son and their lamb, in its very own plastic carrier bag. Cute but, oh, that rural smell of shit! I pick my overnight bag up off the floor and onto my knees – in case of, you know, accidents. And, yes, accidents do happen! I open the window. The lamb bleats and looks at me with huge eyes.

Plains: few signs of life. A river runs through. Crumbling adobe-brick ruins that once were houses dot the landscape. Golden grass.

Lamby is hungry and, mistakenly, nuzzles my leg. Next it tries to nibble my pants. It tries to eat my button. I tell its mother the lamb is hungry. She shrugs. She looks hungry too and pulls out some bread for herself and the boy.

Snoozing … zzzzz … but the smell of pee in my nostrils wakes me and again I let the breeze in.

Young Mr Cool, of the rolled up jean legs, single braid in his hair, cool sunnies, turns up his music. A generalisation: Peruvians love noise! A tall tourist gets up, goes over, tells him to turn it off. Perhaps, intimidated, Mr Cool obeys.

More snoozing …

A police stop! On come the Men in Black, looking for contraband. Checking under seats, they spot a bundle of cartoned somethings and start to cart them off, only to be verbally assaulted by a local woman, claiming the goods and haranguing the police until they back off. Go girl!

Snoozing again …

The bus stops and the food arrives, courtesy of a local woman carrying a big multi-striped bundle on her back and a large plastic pail in her hand. She unwraps, shouts out the menu. Tourists cluster over her, peering for a look at the offerings. What is it? Cameras click, movies are shot. A cleaver appears and the woman begins to chop, with large savage blows. The tourists back off. The woman stuffs plastic bags with joints of meat and potatoes, and serves.

It smells good! Tempting, but potentially trouble. Tummy rumbling, I open the window.

Once more with the snoozing …

Another stop, more entertainment … or not! A travelling salesman, Peruvian style, stands in the aisle, spouting his spiel for a good 15 minutes. Something about all sorts of different types of food and drink causing stones but not if you drink his special magic potion three times a day and it only costs 30 soles for a month’s supply. But he’s picked the wrong crowd … these are mostly poor passengers and that’s a lot of money. Not a single sale the first time around, so he tries again.

Trying to snooze …

Snow on the mountains!

Passengers getting restless. Are we there yet?

The lamb bleats and pees. I open the window, even though it’s raining a little.

I remember this is the night for the Orionids and, here in the countryside, it’s dark. I look to the east and, as if sensing my intentions, the driver turns the lights on. Another stop. Passengers pile out to pee.

Again with the snoozing, and I’m not the only one … snores from all around.

Finally, finally, finally, city lights ahead … and soon I’m home, drinking a hot cuppa and munching on an empanada from my friendly local baker, who wants to know where I’ve been ‘cause he hasn’t seen me in weeks. He likes to exaggerate! I’m glad to be home but I can still smell lamb pee.

Erin and the little sticker girl

I love the randomness of travelling! Today I had a chance encounter that has the potential to be a huge help to Globalteer in terms of fundraising and met a genuinely nice person, in many ways a like-minded soul.

To begin at the beginning … after breakfast at the hotel this morning, I set off to walk up Calvary Hill … but it seems I’m not destined to ascend to religious heights. I got to the top of one street, a lung-busting walk in itself – remember that Lake Titicaca is at 3812 metres (12,507 feet) above sea level – to find I was only about half way up and the actual pathway, which my street joined, was an uneven, slippery-surfaced, ankle-challenging mass of cobbles that looked even steeper. I gave up the idea and, instead, headed down to the little church at the bottom of the climb and wandered from there around Copacabana’s back streets.

That worked up an appetite, so I enjoyed a delicious vegetable lasagna at one of the myriad of restaurants and cafes in the main street. Then I began attracting waifs and strays. First, while enjoying my lunch, I got hit on for money by a poor shoeshine man from Tacna, Peru, whose friend had told him he would earn a good living from all the tourists in Copacabana so he could support his five sisters and two brothers, all younger than him and motherless. Instead, he had found that tourists either wear walking shoes that don’t need polishing or they don’t really want or need their shoes shone, so he had been living on the streets.

After lunch, a black dog attached itself to me as I walked along the beach again. And, later, as I sat in the main street having a coke, a brown dog came and planted itself on one of my feet!

My friend, the black dog, at the beach

For about 30 minutes, I sat, nursing that Coca Cola, scribbling notes for my blogs in my notebook and generally watching the world happen around me. A young man, afflicted with something akin to thalidomide victims, was using his shortened and misshapen limbs to craft jewellery and sell it to random passersby. A woman, from a restaurant across the street from me, took pity on a street dog, struggling to walk on its three good legs and one badly damaged limb, bringing it a plateful of lunchtime leftovers and stood guard while it ate, scaring off the able-legged dogs that hovered eagerly nearby. My shoeshine friend walked steadfastly up and down, seeking out potential customers but either coming up empty or being chased off by overly protective restaurateurs (I was glad I had helped him out a little). Tourists wandered up or down the street, trying to decide where to eat or drink, or what souvenirs to buy from the many stalls full of eye-catching sweaters, caps, etc.

Another woman chose the café where I was perched, taking a seat on the bench that mirrored mine on the opposite side of the doorway. She was perhaps 20 or more years younger than me and looked like a traveller, dressed in a multi-coloured cotton skirt, a black top and a short denim jacket. Initially, we didn’t speak.

A cute little Bolivian girl was hovering around (I later discovered her name was Nina), playing in the street, running up and down, amusing herself with small things as children in poor countries do. She seemed to belong to the café two doors down.

The other woman greeted her, the little girl approached and was rewarded with a present, a little sticker that the woman magically produced from her purse and stuck on to the back of the wee girl’s hand. The wee one beamed with delight and raced off to show whoever was in the café – it turned out to be two young male friends who then craved stickers of their own.

The woman and I struck up a conversation based entirely on what had taken place: I asked what she had given the girl; she told me she always carries stickers for exactly these situations (note to self: excellent idea!); I commented that it was so much better than sweets … and thus began our contact.

The woman’s name is Erin and she is nearing the end of a two-year sabbatical, during which time she has been travelling and volunteering her way around the world. (You can read more about her fascinating travels, her ‘living mini’ philosophy and her generous donations to good causes on her website.) She describes herself as an ‘adventure philanthropist’, being both a professional travel writer and a self-employed fundraiser, with huge connections in the US, doing pro bono work for organisations like Globalteer, offering advice on ways they can expand their fundraising activities. Perfect, plus I like her philosophy. Erin and I chatted, exchanged travellers' tales, brief life details and business cards, then went our separate ways but I’m sure we’ll be in touch again very soon.

(Erin has since written a book about her two-year adventure and her philosophy for adventure philanthropy. It's a great read and very inspirational!)

I went back to the beach, drawn by Titicaca’s blue blue waters and keen to get more photos of the quirky pedal-powered boats and the lake as it sparkled in the late afternoon sun. Later, I treated myself to a delicious dinner, with a sunset view to die for, at the hotel restaurant, and another early night.

Chillaxing in Copacabana

Walk through to Bolivia

Ironically, it’s 32 years ago today since my ex and I got together and here I am sitting in an outdoor courtyard restaurant in Copacabana, Bolivia, awaiting my pizza lunch while he’s probably still living the quiet life in Auckland, still slaving away at his business. Funny where life takes you.

Strangely enough, I was chatting away to a New Zealander on the bus here from Puno this morning, though she lives in Sydney, Australia, with her family. Stef is part way through a degree in International Studies so I’m guessing she’s about 20. She’s been travelling for 7 months, having a gap year. I do wonder where kids her age get the funds to travel for a year – maybe generous parents, though she had done 3 months in a summer camp in Canada, which would’ve helped. What a great start to a young life a trip like hers would be – opening her eyes to what the world has to offer and the endless possibilities before her.

The Transzela bus left Cusco at 10pm and got to Puno at 5am this morning. I slept on and off as I had sprung the extra 10 soles for full cama – so worth it! Transzela didn’t have the extra luxuries of the Cruz del Sur bus company, with its snacks, hot drinks and blankets but it did have the same seats so was comfortable enough.

The next bus left Puno at 7.30am, so I had a long wait doing nothing but people watching, and we reached Copacabana at 12noon. The border was fairly quiet – just two buses passing over and hardly any local sales vendors like the last time I crossed here – maybe ’cause it’s a Thursday. The Bolivian immigration officer looked long and hard at the ‘fine’ stamp I got last time I came to Bolivia but still let me in, luckily. Another couple of stamps in the passport – this one contains entirely South American countries … so far.

Not a bad view out my window

A man from the La Cupula Hotel was at the bus to meet other guests so I didn’t have to walk up the hill to the hotel. It’s a quirky little place with fabulous views out over the bay so should be a very relaxing place to chill for a couple of days.

Though it looks beautiful on the surface, Copacabana is more decrepit than I remember from last year. I went for a walk along the waterfront after lunch and it is full of rubbish, the water of Lake Titicaca looks disgustingly polluted and it stinks.

I explored around the church and it’s looking much the worst for wear as well – walls mouldy and crumbling and the whole place has an unkempt look, which is inexcusable when you consider the town taxes every single person who enters the town 1 Boliviano, supposedly as an entry fee for the sanctuary, plus this place is the Basilica of the Virgen de la Candelaria, the most famous pilgrimage site in all of Bolivia. 

The Basilica houses the black Virgin, carved in a dark wood in 1576 to celebrate an incident where the Virgin Mary appeared to some fishermen during a terrible storm on Lake Titicaca and led them to safety. Considering the Basilica and the lake are the main reasons anyone comes to Copacabana, you’d think the locals would take a little more pride in them.

There’s a lot of half-built construction around the streets, accompanied by piles of sand and brick as if prosperity is just around the corner … but, if this is anything like Peru, it could look like that for years!

Copacabana is even more sleepy than I remember as well, with restaurant staff seemingly reluctant to stir themselves to serve you. Unless you’re part of the midday bus changeover crowd, then you’re just an intrusion.

I think that sleepiness is catching. There’s nothing to do here – the hotel rooms have no televisions, I didn’t bring my laptop and I don’t have any books so can’t laze in one of the hotels lazy-looking hammocks reading. So, feeling pretty tired from the journey, I lay down for a nap at about 4pm and didn’t really get up again - except to change into my nightie and actually get into bed – till 5am, and then I kept snoozing till about 7.30. I am still getting over a cold but I think the real problem is Copacabana-itis!

Border run to Bolivia: day four

The last day of July dawned bright and clear in Copacabana and, after breakfast at our hotel, we headed out again on to glistening Lake Titicaca. We only had the morning to sightsee so, instead of taking one of the regular full-day tourist tours, we had our own private motor boat and guide. The boat was small and there was a bit of a swell running, so we bounced and splashed our way out to Isla del Sol, the legendary island of the sun.

According to our guide, this rocky hilly island was the birthplace of Inca civilisation. The sun and the moon were born in this lake, and the first Inca, Manco Capac, emerged from a sacred rock on this island. Our guide also told us a myth which included a 40-day downpour resulting in a flood that killed off almost everything, except a man and a woman, who went on to beget the Inca nation. Now where have I heard that story before?

On reaching the island, we visited the ruins of the Pilcocaina Inca Palace, or Temple of the Sun. It is a simple building, with several interconnecting rooms. Our guide showed us one room where, at sunrise on the day of the mid-summer solstice, the sun’s rays shine exactly in one window in the front wall and straight through the window in the wall behind – proof, he said, of the astronomical knowledge of the Incas. He also explained that the three-stepped window frames represented heaven, earth and hell – in Inca symbology, the condor is used to represent heaven, the puma earth and the snake hell. The three-stepped concept also features in the Inca version of the ten commandments: their three are: you should not lie, you should not steal, and you should not be lazy!

From the Inca temple, we climbed up a ragged path, and hiked two kilometres along a ridge-top track – part of the original Inca Trail – then down again to the tiny village of Yumani. The views were awesome – across the sparkling lake to the snow-capped mountains of the Royal Range of the Andes. At Yumani we tasted the crystal clear waters of the sacred spring before boarding our motor boat for the thwacking ride back to Copacabana.

We had time for a quick bite of lunch at the Hotel Rosario del Lago, before boarding our bus back to Puno. The border crossing back in to Peru was trouble-free and I now have another 90 days to enjoy this colourful country. We had about 4½ hours to kill in Puno, so caught a taxi to the Plaza de Armas (every town and city in Latin America has one!) and wandered the streets. We shopped a little – I got another t-shirt and Kiri found an alpaca overnight bag in the colours she’d been seeking – then hung out in a warm café, listening to and watching music videos from the 70s and 80s – real music!

Upstairs at the front on Tour Peru's double-decker, and the church in the Plaza de Armas, Puno

Our overnight bus to Cusco departed at 8.30pm and was more comfortable than I had expected. The semi-cama seats reclined further back than an (economy class) airplane seat and I was soon asleep, dreaming sweet dreams of my superb weekend.

Border run to Bolivia: day three

Saturday 30 July, and another early start. The lovely man from Allways Travel (highly recommended!) arrived at our hotel at 7.00am, took us to the bus station, showed us where to pay our departure tax and put us on the right bus … to Bolivia.

It was a double-decker bus so we had a good view as we travelled round Lake Titicaca, then inland towards the border. We passed a big cattle fair in one town, and then went through ‘blue toilet’ country – for some unknown reason every house had an outdoor toilet painted bright blue!

At the border we had to get stamped out of Peru by both the Police and Immigration, then we walked a few hundred metres across the border to get stamped in to Bolivia. The formalities went smoothly enough and we were soon back on the bus for the 10-minute ride to Copacabana. This is apparently the original Copacabana – the famous beach in Rio was named after it.

We had a room booked at Hotel Gloria, which turned out to be a very short walk up the road from the bus stop. And it was glorious – we had a twin room, with a large double bed each and a glorious view out over the lake. It was noon when we arrived, so once we got settled, we walked back to the main street and found a restaurant for some lunch.

Copacabana is a relaxed little town, like a resort but a little bit shabby and a little bit hippy – full of the backpacker type of traveller, not the rich tourists. It’s comfortable, and slow, and laid-back. After a leisurely lunch, we cruised slowly down the main street to the beach – you’ve gotta love a main street where the tarmac eventually turns into sand! – then back up again, checking out the shops. I got a Bolivian t-shirt and Kiri bought some bits of jewellery.

As we were walking around we noticed many of the cars had been decorated, with paper decorations and flowers and feathers amongst other things. The numbers of these cars increased as we approached the main square, and there we discovered what was happening – this was the Benedicion de Movildades, the blessing of automobiles. Apparently, this is a twice-daily occurrence, where priests bestow a ritual blessing on the vehicles and a ritual offering of alcohol is also poured over them, consecrating them for the journey home.

The blessing occurs in front of Copacabana’s Basilica de Virgen de la Candelaria, a gleaming white church, with Moorish-style domes and colourful ceramic tiles. The Virgen de la Candelaria is a short wooden statue of the Virgin Mary, which was sculpted by Inca craftsmen in 1576. It is believed to work miracles and is the most important pilgrimage destination in Bolivia. We had a quick look at the beautiful interior of the church and I couldn’t help but admire it’s striking architecture.

More cruising around the streets, a beer in the sun at a café in the main street, a stroll along the beachfront promenade licking a delicious ice-cream, and later a scrumptious dinner … all in all a wonderful way to chill out in charming Copacabana.