La Paz, Bolivia – July 31st – August 2nd, 2017

We did not make it far on the bus to La Paz, when we came to a body of water and were asked to get out and pay a passenger ferry to take us across. While we putzed across the river, our bus boarded a barge… or rather a floating piece of wood. The overland/water experience to La Paz was pretty unique, especially considering that much of our travel, after the bus barge, was on dirt back-roads to the capital city… not sure what that was about.

The overwater portion of the trip to La Paz.

 As I am sure you have read if you have kept up with the blog, by this point in the trip, Andy and I had zero tolerance for getting ripped off by taxis. Rather than pay the extra dollar or two, we forced Lisa and Brandon to walk in the direction of the guesthouse rather than feed into the taxi driver scam-fest. Apparently though, the guesthouse was a LONG way away and it took a ridiculously long time to find a ride. We waited for an Uber for over 15 minutes. We could see him stuck in traffic up ahead, then he flipped a b*tch and canceled our ride…. Not cool. It took quite a bit longer after that to flag a taxi – perhaps it wasn’t worth the extra few dollars, but it’s the principle of the matter!

Now at the guesthouse which featured freezing cold rooms, we scrambled to research mountain bike companies with availability to bring us on the Death Road the following morning. We managed to find one and hustled to make it to the shop in time to try on gear before they closed. At the time we weren’t sure if it was worth the stress, but (spoiler alert) boy was it ever! The Death Road ended up being one of the highlights of the entire trip! Before returning to catch some shut eye, we visited the witch’s market where we saw an abundance of mummified llama fetuses – yup, didn’t you know, they are good luck!

Road safety zebras, Andy the king, mummified fetuses, and shamans.

The next morning, we caught a taxi at 5am to Xtreme Downhill where we met our guide, Max, and a handful of other adventure-seeking tourists. A few hours later we were at a mountain summit, geared up, gawking at the scenery, and ready for the 30-mile ride downhill on the notorious North Yungus Road, aptly nicknamed the Death Road due to the 200-300 deaths per year which occurred up until 1996 when a new route was completed. To say the road is treacherous would be an understatement: 3000ft high cliffs, rainy weather, landslides, and 10ft single-lane hairpin turns combined with traffic in both directions and crowded buses with wheel bases larger than the road resulted in quite the cluster… and we complain about pot holes? Now, the road is mostly deserted, apart from mountain bikers and a few cars, and the vegetation has swallowed most of the evidence left behind from the thousands of accidents that occurred here (back in the 90’s you could see abandoned cars which had plummeted over the cliffs).  Even on a mountain bike the road was a bit nerve wracking at times, but the scenery was SPECTACULAR! The pictures do not come close to doing it justice.

Mountain biking the Death Road.

We spent the next day in La Paz being tourists of the capital city. First things first though, was to get Andy a sim card. Although ridiculously cheap (less than $5 for a card and GB of data), the process ended up being painstakingly slow. The first sim card was not functional and the kiosk worker did not know how to give us a new sim because of the registration requirements – even in Bolivia technology backfires. At least Lisa, Brandon, and I had the pleasure of watching a sting operation on unregistered taxi drivers (sweet sweet taxi driver revenge). Finally ready to go, we spent the day utilizing the public cable car system to peruse the sprawling city. I couldn’t exactly tell you where we went (lots of parks and views), but I do distinctly remember the fortune teller that we visited on El Alto. A shaman with no teeth (making his Spanish impossible to understand) invited us into his sheet metal shack where he read us our fortunes by throwing cocoa leaves in the air. Although most of what he said was more of a Spanish mumble, he repeatedly gave us the thumbs up and said, “tranquilo” so we figure we are going to have a pretty calm future. He also foretold that Andy and I are having twins this year (we were horrified, that doesn’t seem calm at all). After a full day of walking around, we collected our stuff, and made our way to the airport. La Paz… check.    

The progression of Andy's sim card debacle and views from the cable car.

More views from around La Paz. We also found these incredible cheesy pastries which Lisa is shown enjoying in the bottom left photo. 

Lake Titicaca, Bolivia – July 29th – 31st, 2017

The overland border crossing from Peru to Bolivia was undisputedly the most nerve-racking of the entire trip. While leaving Peru was easy - just a quick stamp at Peruvian immigration, entry into Bolivia did not go as smoothly. Thanks to a grudge against the US government (likely justified), US citizens are subjected to a ridiculously strict and grossly overpriced visas upon entry. While everyone else on our bus breezed through, we were forced to find a hidden separate building for US citizens where we had to fork over a stack of paperwork to a grumpy border official. Apparently, the multiple passport photos, printed day by day itinerary, hotel reservations for the entire trip, bank and credit card statements, and departure flight confirmation were not quite enough, resulting in us scrambling to find a photo copier to make additional copies. By the time we made it back with the copies, a group of unicorns (I mean other Americans) were also waiting for the same irritable official – who had apparently turned them away as well. Unlucky for them, their delay resulted in them missing their bus. They were not the friendliest…  With our paperwork in order, the border official unenthusiastically took our $165 each ($160 with a $5 bribe) and gave us our visas, yet not before hassling Brandon and Lisa for more crisp US $denaro$. So stressful…   

En route to Bolivia. Also, crossing the border between Bolivia and Peru were about a billion eggs.

Relieved, we eventually made it to Copacabana, where we settled into a beautiful hotel overlooking the city. Copacabana is a tourist destination for not only westerners, but South Americans too. Since it was the Peruvian new year, the Peruvians were there is droves, mostly, it seemed, to get their cars blessed. The streets were at a stand-still, flooded with decorated cars and hopeful Peruvians buying mini-versions of their possession wishes (houses, cars, etc.) and getting their fortunes told by a shaman melting metal… don’t ask, we didn’t get it either, but it was great people watching.

Our hotel, equip with spectacular views, alpaca, cat therapy, and clean sheets. 

Photos from around Copacabana, including the confused decor at a Bolivan Mexican restaurant adorned with leopard print and Styrofoam seats. 

Sunset at Cerro Calvario overlooking the city.

The following day, we caught a boat for a day trip to the nearby islands. After an hour exploring the ruins at the Palace of the Virgins of the Sun and enjoying the views from Isla de la Luna, Lisa took a dip in Lake Titicaca! Seeing as neither the air or water temperatures were even remotely warm, many tourists, including us, thought she was crazy – yet, to be fair, she is the only person I know that can say she swam in Lake Titicaca.

Day trip to Isla de la Luna and Isla del Sol.

Highlights from around the islands.

Back on the boat, we continued on to Isla del Sol. Unfortunately, half of the island was closed due to islander strife, but we were still able to visit the south end and given that both the island and the views of the distant snow-capped mountains were absolutely stunning beautiful, we deemed it well worth the trip. While walking around, our “English-speaking” boat guide did his best to share some of the highlights. After listening to a few rounds of Spanish, followed by an English translation, it became clear that his Spanish was significantly easier to understand than his English. For example, instead of saying, “Inca Spring,” he repeatedly said, “Inca Sperm,”… hilarious, but then again, I feel him, people laughed at my Spanish frequently and I never knew why. Even funnier than botched translations, was the Inca Spring itself. Conquistadors thought the spring was a fountain of youth with three “springs” signifying the sins of laziness, lying, and stealing. The word, “spring” was put in quotation marks because a nearby pump station appeared to actually feed the “spring” and the lying faucet wasn’t working, making that sin acceptable for the time-being (or so we surmised). Regardless, many locals and Peruvian tourists were drinking from and bathing in the Inca Sperm.

After a very long slow boat ride, we eventually arrived back in Copacabana, where we chowed down on delicious Italian food and wine (oh, the benefits of a tourist town), before calling it a night. The next morning, we wandered around the small city, where we witnessed a few car blessings and visited the cathedral before boarding a bus to La Paz.        

Superstitions in Copacabana.