At home, I'd be sketched out if anyone told me to hop on a raft like this, but in Bolivia, when someone says, "Let's go," and points to a ferry, you hop on. Adventure awaits, and ya can't get there without a questionable crossing or two. In this case, we were bound for Copacabana on Lake Titicaca. Go ahead and laugh. The name is hilarious.
We heard that there wasn't much going on at Copacabana this time of year, but we didn't mind. There was trout to be found and hikes to be had.
We sprung for a nice room with a great view of the bay, complete with a space heater (Mark nearly had to pry it out of my hands when we left). They even offered wifi that worked 65% of the time (ahh, the luxuries that a $30 room can get ya). I would have liked a porter service upgrade as the town is built on crazy hills at 11,000 feet, but we huffed and puffed our way along the cobblestone mountains and got our bags to the room.
There's a popular day tour that goes to Isla del Sol and Isla del Lunes (literally sun and moon islands where the Incas lived), but we weren't interested in spending all day on a boat with a bunch of tourists (we'd had enough of that on the bus ride from La Paz- oof, it was filled with garlic-breathed Europeans and Californian narcisists). Instead, we rented a motorcycle for a couple of hours. For 100 Bolivianos ($15), the owner didn't even ask for an ID, just turned over the keys and we were off.
We love Bolivia. The mountainous landscapes, the giant clear lake, the friendly people... when I waved from the back of the bike, people smiled and waved back. One older gentleman even put both hands up and waved excitedly as he ran up a hill. We feel welcome in Bolivia, but it's not just that. I'm in love with the piglets and sheep that get tied up to the hills to feed for the day. I'm in love with the cheap prices and simplistic lifestyle. I'm in love with the rosy cheeks that local people get from the hard work in the sun. I just can't say it enough; I love Bolivia. During the whole bike ride, I just kept telling God how happy I was to be enjoying this adventure, and how much I loved His creation.
We were cruising and laughing, taking in the sights when the bike started to sputter up the hill. Like a stubborn mule, it suddenly refused to budge. Mark was able to kick start it up again, but it quit shortly thereafter. He ran it downhill to get it started again, and we coasted for a bit longer, but then it totally died. Huh, we looked at each other, shrugged, and surmised, "Guess we're walking back." Animals and people aside, the roads were pretty much empty, so there was no chance of getting a lift back to town. Mark took a hit of his inhaler and we started walking. It was about a mile back to town, no biggie, except the big hill coming into town. We both pushed up the hill, then Mark coasted down to the shore to return the bike. Apparently, a spark plug had rattled free.
Later that night, we decided to take a sunset hike up to the 14 steps of Christ. It's a steep little trek. It only takes about 30 minutes, but a person has to spend some time catching his/her breath. Local Catholics take the hike to remove their sins. Mark and I took it at sunset for some exercise and a photo opp. I wore my new leggings and red sweater that I picked up in town. I have a problem... I can barely zip my backpack shut, but I still want to buy one of everything I lay my eyes on. So far, I've only picked up 2 sweaters, a pair of leggings, and some leg-warmers... oh, and an alpaca scarf... but that's all :-)
One of our nights in Copacabana, we stopped in for Mexican food. We were happy to discover they also had a set of Mexican train dominos. Mark won the game, but I didn't mind; I had Mexican food, was in Bolivia, and was loving the Copacabana.
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