La Paz & Lake Titicaca (Bolivia)
Day 1: The Highest Elevated Capital in the World
The Cruz Del Sur overnight bus from Uyuni isn't so bad. The stars are beautiful. They run out of blankets before they get to us, but they give us candy instead. Reasonable trade. When we arrive at 5am, Mike, Stuart, Stefan, and I walk to our hostel together delirious. La Paz is the highest elevated capital in the world and the sidewalks are steep. I'm clumsy and it's dark out so naturally I fall face first. The boys have grown used to my once a day wipeouts. In retrospect, I'll realize this is when my sunglasses fell out of my backpack (This is why we can't have nice things). Back on my feet, we get to Loki Hostel and they let us check in early. Thank goodness.
A few hours of sleep later, we're famished and eager to see La Paz in the light so we head out on the streets. We keep hearing what sounds like gun shots/ car backfire. Turns out to be firecrackers from a protest. This city is unlike any other I've been to. I'm glad I have friends with me as I'm not sure I'd enjoy this town solo. After wandering without direction, we stop into a hole in the wall to tide us over. Baby Stu is famished. This proves to be a mistake as we realize we accidentally drank unfiltered city water in our juice. The boys are hypochondriacs and immediately think they're sick. I tell them to suck it up and then I start feeling bad too... karma.
We go searching for death road bike tours. I insist on going to the #1 place on TripAdvisor, Gravity. When we arrive, the lady whispers to me to go across the street to Barracuda. She says it's the same thing, but $40 less (except there isn't lunch in the animal reserve). Happy with our luck, we go to Barracuda and book the next morning at 7:30am for 570 pesos each ($80). After some coco tea and crepes, we feel better and head to Calle Jaen to see the famous colored houses on our way back to the hostel. Back home, I convince the boys to book Bolivia Hop to Lake Titicaca with me. The 4 of us love traveling as individuals, but we get along so well we don't mind going the same direction for a bit. Proud of our productivity, we head to dinner uptown at Vinapho (PS You have to negotiate taxi prices in advance here: 20 Bolivianos aka $3 total). A Brit, a German, a Canadian, and an American walk into a Vietnamese restaurant in Bolivia... Talk about ethnic diversity. I'm apparently not an expert at eating Tom Yum so I get made fun of all dinner. Remind me not to go on a date for Vietnamese. Day 2: Maimed by the Death Road We're getting picked up at Little Italy at 7:30 so we go early for breakfast. Then we jump on a bus for about an hour taking us up to 4,900 meters. They outfit us with jackets and pants and helmets and gloves and bikes. We start the day by drinking 96% grain alcohol which is supposed to serve as an offering to Mother Earth "Pachamama". It tastes like nail polish remover, but it eases the nerves.
63 km and over 15,000 feet (3,800 meters) in elevation down. We start out on the asphalt road and it's incredibly beautiful, easy, and adrenaline-inducing fast. Then we head onto the gravel Death Road. The gravel is significantly more treacherous... So are the cliff drop offs. Mike and I don't have sunglasses so I'm a little worried about a rock to the face. Nevertheless, I'm flying down the road taking in some of the most beautiful views I've ever seen.
Overconfidence. My kryptonite. I'm going too fast and I know it, but it feels so good to let gravity take you for a while. It takes more energy to keep my hands on the brakes so I loosen my grip. I swerve to avoid a rock and find myself on the edge of the cliff with a very steep drop. I overcorrect and immediately know I'm going down. I refuse to go face first so I back brake hard. I fishtail and eventually find myself on the ground a few feet from my bike on top of the rocks.
I'm not gonna lie. This feels like the worst accident I've had since I had sea urchin spines beaten into my foot by a local "doctor" in Koh Samui, Thailand (story for another day). If it weren't for fear of looking like a wimp in front of the boys, I may have taken the bus down the rest of the way. Fortunately, Banksy is right behind me to pick me up and get me on my way. Shaky with nerves, I make it to the next stop where I take a snack break and watch the replay on my GoPro. Good one clutz.
The rest of the mountain is painful with two bum knees and bruises all over, but beautiful nonetheless. I slow down and brake more and the muscles in my forearms go to mush. We bike through mist and waterfalls and come out to the most beautiful green mountains. At the bottom, we celebrate with a big lunch by a pool with beers and hot showers. Maimed, but not broken. Success.
On the 3 hours back to La Paz, we sing Christmas carols with some Germans. I think we're delirious. Banksy, Mike, and I wander the Friday night market when we get back. I'm hobbling around on my bad knee looking for replacement sunglasses. Then we see her: "Linda pulpa". There is a crowd of locals around her and she's pouring stew from 6 containers with what looks like 8 octopus arms. The queen of street food. We can't figure out what's on the menu or how we order and we're giggling like little girls. The locals are laughing at us too as we clearly don't know the process and keep trying to find the back of the line. Finally we just say we want three bowls of whatever. Then while everyone else sits on the curb they bring us 3 seats so we can enjoy right in the middle of everything. We're as happy and giggly as can be. Potatoes, veggies, and spicy chicken stew. Delicious.
Day 3: Holiday in Isla Del Sol Bolivia Hop picks us up at the hostel at 530am. We stop in tiny towns where the tourist bus is way too big. 4 hours later we get to the strait and we have to deboard while they float the bus across on a wooden raft. I'm questioning whether my luggage will be at the bottom of the lake by the end of the morning. We wait in the rain and watch women hold umbrellas over their shivering husbands. This role reversal feels like a common theme in this country.
We finally make it to Copacabana and hunt for a meal of famous Lake Titicaca trout. There is a big parade and people in funny costumes, but no one seems to know what the holiday is.
Excited to feel the sun after months of winter in southern South America, we hop on the public boat to Isla Del Sol in the middle of Lake Titicaca for 25 Bolivianos. It takes about an hour. It's beautiful, but steep as soon as you arrive. We notice our hostel Jacha Inti is only half way up the hill. I still almost die taking up my bags with the altitude.
The ladies don't speak English and there isn't wifi to check our bookings. After a bit of confusion, we sit on the balcony overlooking the harbor and drink whiskey for the rest of the afternoon. We make friends with an Italian and Brazilian and they join us. Finally the temperature drops with the sunset and we decide to head up the mountain to find food. For the record, I think this is a terrible idea because there is food here without the steep half hour climb up in the freezing night. I'm outvoted and we start to climb. Then it starts to rain. After a half hour of slipping in the rain, we finally make it to the top and eat at Las Islas. More trucha and vino. After a slippery walk down and soaked to the bone, we all head to bed at 9pm on a Saturday night. Enough excitement for one day.
Day 4: Last Night in Bolivia The next day we wake up and have breakfast at the hostel. The workers are not happy to serve us. It's a holiday so maybe we're invading their time. This is the first time I feel unwelcome on this continent. Other people are expressing the same concern. We get in a big dispute over the price of the rooms. She tries to overcharge us and doesn't speak any English and her Spanish dialect is impossible to decipher. I'm a sucker so I just want to pay her and move on, but the boys disagree. Over an hour later we pay her what we think we owe and take our bags in the pouring rain. Bad start to the day. We find a place at the bottom of the pier to store our bags and go to meet up with the Brazilian and Italian, Matteo and Vanessa, and go on a hike around the island. We find out that the northern part of the island is closed due to an unresolved dispute so we hike south. It's still a beautiful view and we see where the sun was created according to Qechua religion in Bolivia and Peru.
Afterwards, we grab lunch and vino with our new friends on a terrace overlooking the water. Spirits higher, we get on the boat back to Copacabana.
We make our way into town and follow the loads of parades down the road to our hostal Casa Del Sol. It immediately feels like a happy place. We are surrounded by the wildest and most unsafe fireworks displays I've ever seen. People in the street are being drenched with sparks and don't seem to care. The town is full of the most hilariously drunk old people I've ever seen. We wonder if they are going to burn the whole town down. We find dinner at Alex Pacha and order beer and pizza. Afterwards, we spend our last night together drinking street beer and reminiscing.
Day 5: Disbanding of the 4 Amigos
We wake up in time for breakfast. It's a bit disappointing since it's just bread and jam, but it's obvious this is our last breakfast together so we all linger longer than normal. Stefan suggests we get friendship bracelets. I think it's adorable, but the rest of the guys laugh. We find the perfect ones and although Stu and Mike don't want to admit it, they love our matching bracelets. In celebration, we head out for a steep 30 minute hike to the Mirador in town and huff and puff the whole way. Views are worth the cardio. We head back down to find the trout ladies for lunch. We're told stalls number 12 and 13 are the best. These stalls are packed. We go in and have the best trout of our trip. On the way home, we shop at the street stalls and all buy the same scarf. This BFF4L thing is getting funny.
Then the time comes for our first goodbye. Mike. I can't help but hope we see each other again as impractical as it may be. Later, Stefan walks Stu and I to the bus and we say another sad goodbye before we head to the border. Next stop: Puno, Peru.
