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...
No comments:
Post a Comment