After five or so days in chaotic La Paz, we were all ready to lay back and relax on Lake Titicaca's main island, Isla del Sol. Lake Titicaca is one of the world's highest lakes, at roughly 3,700 meters above sea level, and is the largest lake in South America, crossing the border between Bolivia and Peru.
Isla del Sol is situated on the Bolivian side of the lake, and is one of the most popular islands to visit on the huge lake. It is a large island with no roads or vehicles, with the majority of the economy relying on tourism and fishing. All this sounded perfect to us; a quiet, rural, farm dominated island, as far away from modern life as possible. We could go on walks and explore the Inca ruins during the day, and eat fresh trout and drink wine at night. That is exactly what we wanted, PEACE and QUIET.
Well, we were in for a little surprise. After the 2 hour ferry ride out to the island from Copacabana, we were all ready to get to the quiet North side of the island. We were sailing round the side of the island when we caught our first glimpse of where we were staying, the sleepy Challa'pampa. Yet, it didn't look so sleepy. Out on the beach, near the boat docks, a huge crowd of colourful dressed Bolivians were dancing to the sound of a brass band. It looked very much like a fiesta to us...what was going on?
On arrival to the island, we chose our humble accomodation right on the beach, with an idyllic sunset over the lake, hippie's tents pitched up in the sand, and farm animals wandering freely along the shore, it was perfect. We soon found out that we had chosen to stay on the island during the annual three-day Festival of the Virgin. It seemed as though the party was already well underway, as everywhere we looked, Bolivian men and women were swaying and stumbling from all the drink, with their children ushering them back to their homes. It was a great sight to see! We hadn't yet seen Bolivians partying first hand, and it appeared to be the one time of the year that the whole community let loose! Brilliant timing by us, once again.
This fiesta did, of course, mean one thing: goodbye R&R, hello more fiesta! We headed out that night for some of the best fresh trout, I have ever tasted. "Trucha alla plancha con salsa de vino blanco"- muy rico. We washed it down with a good few bottles of Bolivian red wine, and went out to chill on the beach. Most of the locals had already called it a night, having probably drunk throughout the day, so we were happy to sit on the sand and toast the Virgin.
Our time on Isla del Sol was still calm and relaxed. After drinking wine at night, we would sleep in until midday, when we'd wander along to a street stall to by a sandwich for breakfast, and then sit in the sun on the beach or relax up in Alfonso's house, where Agus was staying. One sunny day, Julie, Tash and I ventured off to the Inca ruins up on the far northern peninsula of the island. We walked up the gravelly pathway, past all the livestock and tiny little houses out in the middle of nowhere. The views of the lake were stunning, with the strong sun reflecting off the water's surface and the white peaks of the mountains on the mainland in the distance. The sun was really strong, and we ended up with pink faces and arms to match.
We climbed to the Inca ruins, right on the tip of the island; the Sacred Rock, and the labyrinth building of Chicana (which still looked as though the walls were constructed maybe 100 years ago, but not 500). We explored the labyrinth, and insisted on scaling the highest point of the island for the best view. At altitude, the climb was tough, and we were very easily breathless (it didn't fare well for our forthcoming Inca Trail!) but we saw it all as good practice.
After our adventure, we returned to the town, to eat more delicious trout (still not bored by it) and ventured out to dance with the locals in the square. We danced hand in hand with the women and men of Challa'pampa. Some of the women informed me that they were carrying children in their slings, whilst dancing and drinking! We talked together in Spanish and shared our cervezas. It was loads of fun, and we really felt that we were immersed in the community!
The following day we decided to move up to the hills, to join Agus at Alfonso's house. We had a lovely little room with a beautiful view over the town and the beach. It was one hell of a climb up to the hostal, especially at night with no lights to guide the way.
That night we joined a group of Argenitians for an authentic asado. I really do not exaggerate when I say "authentic" as they literally bought, killed and cooked a whole pig on a BBQ for us all to eat! At first, we were promised lamb, but in the end a pig was bought instead, for less than twenty pounds. Unfortunately, against our wishes, we saw the poor little 'Babe' that was to become our dinner, and it almost put us off. However, we decided that it was hypocritical to eat meat, except for when we knew how it made it to our plate. Plus, it was only us English and Americans that objected, whilst the Catalan and Argentinians were all for it. This would just be embarrassing...so we went for it.
I do not lie, when I say that it was potentially some of the best pork I have tasted. Yes, I do love a good old Hog Roast back at home, but this was pretty special. No frills, just wholesome, fresh, tender meat. By the time that it was ready (a casual four hour wait) we were all ravenous. We attacked the plate of meat that had been carved, with our bare hands, licking our fingers like cavemen. It was great! What a barbie...
Sadly, the next day we had to leave our beloved paradise island, where fiestas and traquillity go hand in hand. There had been major protests at the border of Peru, due to anti-mining strikes and the border crossing had been shut for a month. All of this was coinciding with the general election in Peru, where protesters were unhappy with the choice between right wing candidate Keiko Fujimori, daughter of a former dictator, and far left Ollanta Humala. We had heard many different accounts of what was going on, but being on the cut-off island, we had to rely on information from other tourists. None of this was very good for us, as we only had one more day when the border was open for tourist crossings, before the election resulsts were announced, and the strikes recommenced.
We had to leave. We needed to ensure that we got to Cusco for our Machu Picchu tour, and afterwards we intended to volunteer. This didn't leave us much time to explore Peru, so we reluctantly said farewell to our friends and the lovely Isla, and got the ferry back to the mainland.
I was pretty sad. Not just about leaving our friends, not just about leaving the island, but also because I had fallen in love with Bolivia. There was so much more that we could have seen, and I was well and truly seduced by Bolivian culture. Not only because everything was cheap, but because for a relatively small country, we were blown away with the variety of landscapes and activities. We'd had such happy times, and we didn't want those to end. Obviously, we had a lot more on the horizon in Peru, and we could be excited about that. Saying goodbye to our Bolivian family was hard, and now we were back on our own once more.
First stop: a border crossing, at night, on election day. Suerte...
Monday, 20 June 2011
Saturday, 11 June 2011
"Attitude at Altitude" - It can only be La Paz...
La Paz, notoriously known for being one of South America's wildest cities. As Bolivia's governmental capital, at a dizzying height of 3660m above sea level, La Paz is full of quirky beauty and a vivacious atmosphere.
From speaking to travellers passing in the opposite direction, we heard that La Paz can be overwhelming at times, not just because of the acclimatising to the altitude, but also because of the dangers of a touristy capital city. The streets of La Paz are never quiet, and this was a tiny bit daunting at first, but with time, we were charmed by the bustling population of the city.
Despite us being aware that La Paz was sky-high in the mountains, we were still amazed about its hilly layout. At such high altitude, and with the sun shining strongly every day, walking around the steep city roads could be quite a challenge. Even at a snails pace, we were panting heavily up the market streets, with older men carrying planks of wood, overtaking us with ease! It was our first chaotic Bolivian city, and we loved it from the first morning.
We stayed at the infamous Wild Rover Backpackers hostel, which partied every night. It was a great base for our La Paz experience, as we trully got a taste of the wild La Paz nightlife (but with the little perks of comfy beds and hot power showers!). Here, we were reunited with our Bolivian family, Agus, Allen and Julie, in time to accompany Agus in cheering on Barcelona in the Champions League Final (Yes, many of the English residents of Wild Rover were appauled at our allegiance with Barca, but as a Spurs fan, I felt I was within my rights!).
Tash and I ventured out with a couple of the Wild Rover crowd, to a disappointly gringo dominated nightclub. We still had fun, but the night lacked a bit of La Paz authenticity, which we vowed to rectify the next day.
Our days were filled with wanders around the city. We explored the artesan markets, full of every type of alapaca garment you could wish for, outstandingly cheap silver jewellry, and all other tourist wares. Here we shopped like crazy, letting out all our pent up frustration. La Paz is famously cheap for shopping, and even now I still think I should have bought more. We also ventured through the witches market, with all sorts of herbal remedies, and questionable witchcraft items; such as llama foetuses, dead birds and other strange bottled creatures.
We visited the Coca museum, where we all learnt more about the wonders of the coca leaf. It was shockingly our first trip to a museum so far (poor effort) but it was really worthwhile to learn more about something that is so important in Bolivian culture. Having said that, I feel that you can learn more about native cultures, by eating in a local restaurant or just talking with people in the markets. One of the reasons why La Paz was so quirky for me, was because of the amount of traditional clothing that is still worn by the cholitas. The stocky Bolivian woman, dressed in their long skirts, thick jumpers, and with small bowler hats on their braided long hair still dominate the population of La Paz, despite seeing more and more modern dress. The cholitas will stride up the steep hills with children tied to their backs, and carrying huge heavy bags of goods. Bolivian women are strong, and never fail to amaze.
Now, many adrenaline seekers head to La Paz in order to the infamous downhill bicycle tour of the world's most dangerous road (aka. "Death Road"). The Yungas Road covering the 61 kilometers between La Paz and Coroico, was closed down and a new road rebuilt, after 200-300 people per year would die driving along the downhill gravel road. Nowadays, the road attracts many thrillseekers to moutain bike the way down the hill, with lots of La Paz tour operators running a show. I have to admit, I was curious as soon as I heard about it, but still took some persuading. Eventually we caved in, and decided to join Agus and Julie on their Death Road tour, as long as we could go as slow as we wanted, and we were only going with a decent company!
That morning, I had butterflies in my stomach. The night before we had heard that, tragically a girl had died doing the tour. There had been complications with her brakes, and she was unable to make a corner. It was awful, yet there were questions about the quality of the tour company used, and we still went ahead with it. I was relieved to find that our tour guide was really informative and helpful in giving advice on how to control the bikes. The bikes too were all in good shape, and we were decked out in all the necessary padding (not that it would help if you were to go off a cliff, but it was better than nothing!).
We started off on the tarmac before the entrance to the original Death Road, so that we could get used to controlling the bikes. Up high in the mountains, the views were stunning, as at times we were above the white fluffy clouds. Tash had a little accident on this part, as the wind blew into her eyes and shifted her contacts, but you wouldn't even have known, as she was right back on that bike! From then on she was referred to as "la chica fuerte" (the strong girl). Yes, it was scary when we got up to the initial start of the Death Road, where the smooth tarmac disappeared, and was replaced with a narrow, dusty and uneven surface. I began at a snail's pace, I wasn't taking any chances. Plus, there was no pressure to go fast, as we stopped for photo ops of the valleys and mountains.
The width of the road was unbelievable. No wonder there had been so many accidents, when public traffic was permitted on the road, when the width would only really allow enough room for one large car. At one point, the drop from off the side of the road was as high as 400 meters. This was terrifying, as the road was so narrow, that on some corners, you could picture how easy it was for cars to lose control off the edge. Despite all these thoughts flowing through my mind, I managed to stay focussed on the terrain in front of me. My eyes actually hurt from the concentration. We stopped for a number of photo ops, as the views from the road were stunning. Everything was lush and green, around the ominous moutains, and the sun shone brightly making it quite warm.
It was a long and hard downhill experience. The constant bumping over the rough terrain was tiring, even though we didn't really have to peddle much until the end! Still, we survived Death Road, and have the t-shirt to prove it. Sorry mother, but sometimes, danger is a lot of fun.
After that exciting experience, La Paz drew to an end. Wild nights out, steep but beautiful hills, stunning sprawling views of the city from the mirador, eating fish in the cheap mercado, and conquering the World's Most Dangerous Road...nos gustamos La Paz mucho!
From speaking to travellers passing in the opposite direction, we heard that La Paz can be overwhelming at times, not just because of the acclimatising to the altitude, but also because of the dangers of a touristy capital city. The streets of La Paz are never quiet, and this was a tiny bit daunting at first, but with time, we were charmed by the bustling population of the city.
Despite us being aware that La Paz was sky-high in the mountains, we were still amazed about its hilly layout. At such high altitude, and with the sun shining strongly every day, walking around the steep city roads could be quite a challenge. Even at a snails pace, we were panting heavily up the market streets, with older men carrying planks of wood, overtaking us with ease! It was our first chaotic Bolivian city, and we loved it from the first morning.
We stayed at the infamous Wild Rover Backpackers hostel, which partied every night. It was a great base for our La Paz experience, as we trully got a taste of the wild La Paz nightlife (but with the little perks of comfy beds and hot power showers!). Here, we were reunited with our Bolivian family, Agus, Allen and Julie, in time to accompany Agus in cheering on Barcelona in the Champions League Final (Yes, many of the English residents of Wild Rover were appauled at our allegiance with Barca, but as a Spurs fan, I felt I was within my rights!).
Tash and I ventured out with a couple of the Wild Rover crowd, to a disappointly gringo dominated nightclub. We still had fun, but the night lacked a bit of La Paz authenticity, which we vowed to rectify the next day.
Our days were filled with wanders around the city. We explored the artesan markets, full of every type of alapaca garment you could wish for, outstandingly cheap silver jewellry, and all other tourist wares. Here we shopped like crazy, letting out all our pent up frustration. La Paz is famously cheap for shopping, and even now I still think I should have bought more. We also ventured through the witches market, with all sorts of herbal remedies, and questionable witchcraft items; such as llama foetuses, dead birds and other strange bottled creatures.
We visited the Coca museum, where we all learnt more about the wonders of the coca leaf. It was shockingly our first trip to a museum so far (poor effort) but it was really worthwhile to learn more about something that is so important in Bolivian culture. Having said that, I feel that you can learn more about native cultures, by eating in a local restaurant or just talking with people in the markets. One of the reasons why La Paz was so quirky for me, was because of the amount of traditional clothing that is still worn by the cholitas. The stocky Bolivian woman, dressed in their long skirts, thick jumpers, and with small bowler hats on their braided long hair still dominate the population of La Paz, despite seeing more and more modern dress. The cholitas will stride up the steep hills with children tied to their backs, and carrying huge heavy bags of goods. Bolivian women are strong, and never fail to amaze.
Now, many adrenaline seekers head to La Paz in order to the infamous downhill bicycle tour of the world's most dangerous road (aka. "Death Road"). The Yungas Road covering the 61 kilometers between La Paz and Coroico, was closed down and a new road rebuilt, after 200-300 people per year would die driving along the downhill gravel road. Nowadays, the road attracts many thrillseekers to moutain bike the way down the hill, with lots of La Paz tour operators running a show. I have to admit, I was curious as soon as I heard about it, but still took some persuading. Eventually we caved in, and decided to join Agus and Julie on their Death Road tour, as long as we could go as slow as we wanted, and we were only going with a decent company!
That morning, I had butterflies in my stomach. The night before we had heard that, tragically a girl had died doing the tour. There had been complications with her brakes, and she was unable to make a corner. It was awful, yet there were questions about the quality of the tour company used, and we still went ahead with it. I was relieved to find that our tour guide was really informative and helpful in giving advice on how to control the bikes. The bikes too were all in good shape, and we were decked out in all the necessary padding (not that it would help if you were to go off a cliff, but it was better than nothing!).
We started off on the tarmac before the entrance to the original Death Road, so that we could get used to controlling the bikes. Up high in the mountains, the views were stunning, as at times we were above the white fluffy clouds. Tash had a little accident on this part, as the wind blew into her eyes and shifted her contacts, but you wouldn't even have known, as she was right back on that bike! From then on she was referred to as "la chica fuerte" (the strong girl). Yes, it was scary when we got up to the initial start of the Death Road, where the smooth tarmac disappeared, and was replaced with a narrow, dusty and uneven surface. I began at a snail's pace, I wasn't taking any chances. Plus, there was no pressure to go fast, as we stopped for photo ops of the valleys and mountains.
The width of the road was unbelievable. No wonder there had been so many accidents, when public traffic was permitted on the road, when the width would only really allow enough room for one large car. At one point, the drop from off the side of the road was as high as 400 meters. This was terrifying, as the road was so narrow, that on some corners, you could picture how easy it was for cars to lose control off the edge. Despite all these thoughts flowing through my mind, I managed to stay focussed on the terrain in front of me. My eyes actually hurt from the concentration. We stopped for a number of photo ops, as the views from the road were stunning. Everything was lush and green, around the ominous moutains, and the sun shone brightly making it quite warm.
It was a long and hard downhill experience. The constant bumping over the rough terrain was tiring, even though we didn't really have to peddle much until the end! Still, we survived Death Road, and have the t-shirt to prove it. Sorry mother, but sometimes, danger is a lot of fun.
After that exciting experience, La Paz drew to an end. Wild nights out, steep but beautiful hills, stunning sprawling views of the city from the mirador, eating fish in the cheap mercado, and conquering the World's Most Dangerous Road...nos gustamos La Paz mucho!
Wednesday, 1 June 2011
Para Mi...Sucré
So...after four amazing days in Bolivia´s outstanding Salt Flats, we were off to our next destination, Sucré.
The journey alone was eventful. The bus to Potosi, broke down a number of times in the mountains, and I had to pass two babies out of the coach window. Yes, you read correctly. Two living, dribbling babies. Out of a coach window over two meters above the ground. It was terrifying, but it was funny, yet I´m still unsure as to why it was necessary. I think now, from having spent more time in Bolivia, you just accept it as normal.
Anyway, Sucré. Para mi, si. As Bolvia's cultural capital, proud Sucré is the beautiful city rival of La Paz. Set high up on the hills, the city was a surprising first representation of a Bolivian city; it was just so clean, modern and prosperous. Obviously, not all of Sucré's population would agree that it was prosperous, but it is one of the more educated and successful cities in Bolivia, a fact of which the people are proud of.
After our four days of dirt and cold in the salt flats, Sucré brought us all back to life! We spent our days exploring the markets, and had our daily fresh fruit smoothie for breakfast at the food mercado. We dined cheaply, on street food or in smarter restaurants, and soaked up the sun and the atmosphere in the main plaza. The hundreds of artesanias kept us busy for hours, though we excersized as much restraint as we could, as La Paz would be our retail mecca. We went horseriding in the countryside around the city, where I galloped for the first time, and discovered (if not a little late) that I was quite allergic to horses! Still, our salt flats family, of Julie, Agus, Allen and 'Nacho' bonded well, and had many a fun evening.
We were also very happy to hear that we could be around for the 202nd anniversary of Sucré. In South America, this could only mean one thing: one big three day FIESTA!!! It was going to be a three day street party, with parades, bands and fireworks going on throughout the evening into the nights. We instantly changed any plans of leaving, to soak up the colourful delights of a Bolivian fiesta.
Fiestas completely take over the city. It's something South America is famous for, and we were not disappointed. Families of all generations take to the streets to spectate, as big brass bands, soldiers and dancers with big beautiful traditional costumes parade through the streets. It was all very well rehearsed, but the atmosphere was electric.
At night, the parading continued, and street vendors make their mint with everyone feasting on cheap but delicious eats. We spoilt ourselves with the best hamburguesa I have ever tasted, with a burger, chorizo, chips and as much sauce as you like, all crammed inside a soft white bap! Cheap, but tastes like heaven, especially after a few rum and cokes! We talked and watched the fireworks with the local students, exchanging language tips and taking drunken photographs. Everyone was friendly and happy, and it was contagious.
If the above hasn't made it crystal clear already, we loved Sucré. Yet as with every place whilst travelling, eventually you must move on, so we broke away from our Sucré family and decided to venture towards the jungle. Santa Cruz was going to be our little taster of the Amazon climate, where we could catch some sun and explore the different side of our beloved Bolivia...
Unfortunately, Santa Cruz was disappointing. The weather was bad, and we were unaware of how expensive and difficult it was to get to the nearby nacional parque. Whilst I'm sure it had its charms, Santa Cruz just couldn't live up to Sucré, so after feasting in some nice restaurants we decided to make for La Paz. Back to be reunited with Agus, Allen and Julie, and back to a city...famous for being wild.
The journey alone was eventful. The bus to Potosi, broke down a number of times in the mountains, and I had to pass two babies out of the coach window. Yes, you read correctly. Two living, dribbling babies. Out of a coach window over two meters above the ground. It was terrifying, but it was funny, yet I´m still unsure as to why it was necessary. I think now, from having spent more time in Bolivia, you just accept it as normal.
Anyway, Sucré. Para mi, si. As Bolvia's cultural capital, proud Sucré is the beautiful city rival of La Paz. Set high up on the hills, the city was a surprising first representation of a Bolivian city; it was just so clean, modern and prosperous. Obviously, not all of Sucré's population would agree that it was prosperous, but it is one of the more educated and successful cities in Bolivia, a fact of which the people are proud of.
After our four days of dirt and cold in the salt flats, Sucré brought us all back to life! We spent our days exploring the markets, and had our daily fresh fruit smoothie for breakfast at the food mercado. We dined cheaply, on street food or in smarter restaurants, and soaked up the sun and the atmosphere in the main plaza. The hundreds of artesanias kept us busy for hours, though we excersized as much restraint as we could, as La Paz would be our retail mecca. We went horseriding in the countryside around the city, where I galloped for the first time, and discovered (if not a little late) that I was quite allergic to horses! Still, our salt flats family, of Julie, Agus, Allen and 'Nacho' bonded well, and had many a fun evening.
We were also very happy to hear that we could be around for the 202nd anniversary of Sucré. In South America, this could only mean one thing: one big three day FIESTA!!! It was going to be a three day street party, with parades, bands and fireworks going on throughout the evening into the nights. We instantly changed any plans of leaving, to soak up the colourful delights of a Bolivian fiesta.
Fiestas completely take over the city. It's something South America is famous for, and we were not disappointed. Families of all generations take to the streets to spectate, as big brass bands, soldiers and dancers with big beautiful traditional costumes parade through the streets. It was all very well rehearsed, but the atmosphere was electric.
At night, the parading continued, and street vendors make their mint with everyone feasting on cheap but delicious eats. We spoilt ourselves with the best hamburguesa I have ever tasted, with a burger, chorizo, chips and as much sauce as you like, all crammed inside a soft white bap! Cheap, but tastes like heaven, especially after a few rum and cokes! We talked and watched the fireworks with the local students, exchanging language tips and taking drunken photographs. Everyone was friendly and happy, and it was contagious.
If the above hasn't made it crystal clear already, we loved Sucré. Yet as with every place whilst travelling, eventually you must move on, so we broke away from our Sucré family and decided to venture towards the jungle. Santa Cruz was going to be our little taster of the Amazon climate, where we could catch some sun and explore the different side of our beloved Bolivia...
Unfortunately, Santa Cruz was disappointing. The weather was bad, and we were unaware of how expensive and difficult it was to get to the nearby nacional parque. Whilst I'm sure it had its charms, Santa Cruz just couldn't live up to Sucré, so after feasting in some nice restaurants we decided to make for La Paz. Back to be reunited with Agus, Allen and Julie, and back to a city...famous for being wild.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)