Hi Mom, I'm Alive

Hi everyone. I'm safe and sound in La Paz. By now I'm feeling just paranoid about the dangers of travel in SA, but I can't help it since my book and my traveling companions are regularly frightening me with scary stories of strangle-muggings and taxi hold-ups.

So after a frigid bus ride complete with crappy Peruvian music videos playing on a bus that was NOT like the one in the picture they showed me (actually, I'm convinced I saw the same picture of plush reclining leather seats at several bus companies), I arrived in Puno, Peru, where I knew I had to change buses but did not know I had to change bus companies and get a whole new ticket. Anyways, after paying many different station taxes I had no soles for (I had changed them all out and had to borrow from others), I eventually made it to Copacabana, a pleasant little town on the lake of Titicaca, the highest navigable lake in the world. My room was spacious, with hard-wood floors and a view of said lake, and had the greatest shower I have experienced on this continent - very hot and very strong. At first I thought I could have stayed forever, but things soured somewhat once I started wandering about town. Almost all of the stores were closed with their metal shutters pulled down, even though it was the middle of a Wednesday afternoon. It gave the town this strange, Trouble a Brewin' vibe. I think that perhaps this is because there is no electricity during the day, and it goes out a lot at night - the night I was there we had electricity for about 20 minutes before the rain knocked it out (this is also why I didn't post in Copa). So I went to bed at 8pm. But this leaves me wondering when the citizens of Copa do business.

The Copacabanans displayed a range of attitudes from indifference to hostility towards me, which was interesting seeing as how it's low season and I would have thought hotel owners would WANT me to see their rooms and possibly stay in them, but I guess I was wrong. After getting the "*sigh*... whaddya want?" attitude in the market (where I did buy some good figs at least), I was beginning to wonder if the people who say Bolivians aren't friendly were right. At any rate, I had to cut my visit to one day because I had a $20 and a $50, and the $50 had a rip about half a centimeter on it - which apparently makes it toilet paper in Bolivia, because no one would change it, not even the one bank in town. And when I tried to go into that bank, I got detained by the police officer outside. "What's your business here?" he asked in Spanish. "I want to change money?" "Well, it's a $50 minimum. How much money do you have?" "$50? Is that OK?" Man, I didn't realize I would backpacker the place up so much if I went inside. I can't imagine the people in Copa have $50 to change very often. I wonder what they do? Anyways, I was going to take a trip to Isla del Sol, the site of the main Incan creation myth (there are others), but that would require two more nights in a place with no ATM and finicky money changers, and I couldn't afford it.

Another thing that made Copa not-so-great was the fact that there was no electricity during the day, so most of the stores had

So instead I took a beautiful bus ride to La Paz, Bolivia. The ride was so nice, it reminded me a lot of a more rugged version of the Sierras in Central California, only with views of the lake on both sides. At one point we all had to get off the bus so they could load it onto a rickety wooden platform which acted as a ferry across Titicaca (hoping our stuff didn't go in the drink). The passengers purchased tickets for the crossing at the aptly named boleteria (ticket shop; boleta is Spanish for "ticket") and boarded small motorboats powered by angry, two-stroke engines. The swells were small, but the boats were smaller, and we heaved along as the engine spat exhaust and I thought how lucky I was to be sitting towards the fore of the boat. Special features of our boat: a rock that I thought was ballast but realized was an anchor, and a lack of life jackets.
After the crossing we made our way through the flat expanse of Altiplano and various villages, which were much like Peruvian villages: construction was either of brick or mud/straw brick, buildings were mostly uncompleted and unfinished, political slogans (although much more basic in Bolivia) adorned many walls.

La Paz is amazing on first sight - high above in the city of El Alto (fringe slums perched on the rim above the city proper, reputed to be the fastest growing "city" in South America) you look down on the red-slate roofs and occasional skyscraper of La Paz. The city is like a living, evaporated fishbowl: if you want to find the center, just walk downhill. After hauling my stuff to four different hotels, I finally found one that both had rooms and was reasonably priced (although I realized today that I always start by looking for rooms in my travel book, but always end up in other places; I think once you're in Footprint or Lonely Planet you raise your prices and fill up faster). But before I did that, I spent probably half an hour looking for a place a guy I met in Arequipa recommended to me that was also in my book. It was number 12, and I kept walking back and forth by where the number 12 was in the book, not seeing the hostal. I asked four different people for help before I realized I was looking at the black number 12 - black is for restaurants - when what I wanted was the red number 12. And then I got there and the place was full anyways.

So here I am, in La Paz, where I will probably spend a few days seeing sights, and then I'm not sure. I know that tonight I'm going to a Lebanese restaurant for dinner. So that's a plan.