Have Conflict, Will Travel

So, I forgot to write about my excursion to Lake Titicaca last weekend.  The lake is pretty, as is the surrounding landscape.  The town we stayed in, Copacabana, is small and poor-ish, but it was more geared to tourists than I expected it to be.  It vaguely reminded me of Lake Ohrid in Macedonia and the resort town we went to several times in Greece, though it was clearly dump-ier.

It was a pleasant trip on the whole, with several notable “Bolivian moments”:

1.  We got to town at about noon and had lunch after dropping our stuff at the hotel.  After eating, we wandered around town, saw the big cathedral, and then decided to hike up a hill at the edge of town that would probably have a good view of the lake.  I should have known it was a bad idea when I saw the sign indicating that the hill was called “Calvario”, as in Calvary, the hill Jesus was crucified on.  There were actually “Stations of the Cross” on the way up the hill, for those dedicated Catholics out there.  And it was a miserable climb.  Climbing up a steep hill is often onerous, but it is especially so when you’re somewhere between 14 and 15 thousand feet above sea level.  I probably had to take a break every 10 steps up the hill.  When we finally made it, there was indeed a great view of the surrounding area and the lake.  And several stalls set up where vendors were hawking cheap plastic toy cars.  Huh?  Anyway, as we were taking in the view, an old lady asked where we were from and we told her we were Americans and she exclaimed “I love Americans!” which was nice to hear coming from a Bolivian.  There was a little more chit chat and then we asked her if there was a way down the back of the hill.  She said that there was and just be careful not to trip!  And then she and her family proceeded down that very path.  We thought to ourselves, ok, no problem.  Bad idea #2.  Bolivians evidently have some goat DNA because the path she took (and we foolishly followed) was less than a goat path, and by the time we realized our error, it was too late to go back up.  What followed was 20 minutes of the most harrowing downhill hiking that I’ve yet done.  I cursed the lady the whole way down.  I am now convinced that she actually hated Americans and was just trying to lure us to our doom.

2.  When we finally reached the bottom of the hill, we came out on a small road directly next to the entrance of a Bolivian Naval Base.  (Didn’t you know that Bolivia, a firmly land-locked country, had a Navy?)  The guard at the gate gave us a nice hello as we emerged onto the road and then asked if we knew that the goat path we had just taken down the hill was in fact a Navy Goat Path?  He then informed us that because we had illegally taken the Navy Goat Path, we would have to give a “contribution” to the base.  I handed him a 10 Boliviano note (~$1.50) and we went on our way, amazed that he had the gall to extort a bribe from us after we had almost just killed ourselves.  That’s Bolivia.

3.  I finally won a game of Killer Bunnies.

4.  We spent Sunday on the lake and on Isla del Sol, the birthplace of the Sun in Incan mythology.  I, in all my manliest wisdom, decided not to put on any sunscreen.  There was also a lot of hiking through villages and up and down hills, which honestly was pretty tiring.  I have pictures of it all on my camera, but unfortunately no good way at the moment to upload them for you to see.  We saw some Incan ruins.  And some llamas.  And a fat guy on a horse.

5.  On the way home, we had to take a ferry (which we had taken on the way up with no incident).  And when I say “ferry”, I mean a rickety raft-thing that carries maybe 3 cars total and has a dinky outboard motor for propulsion.  Anyway, when we got to the ferry, a Bolivian Navy sailor (noticing a trend?) came up to the car and told us that the two passengers would have to get out of the car and take one of the passenger ferries off to the side.  And, of course, pay extra for the inconvenience.  Why?  He never said, but there’s a good chance it’s because we were gringos, since we didn’t see him tell anyone else in the line to do so.  Also interesting?  The passenger ferry line was probably an hour long, while the car line was about 2 mintues long (we refused to get out and promptly drove onto the ferry).  I love this country.

And that was it.  A decent way to spend the weekend, though I would probably have rather spent it drunk celebrating the Longhorn win over the despised Sooners.  I would have probably rather avoided the severe sunburn that I achieved as well.  Oy.