Bolivia 2016

Bolivia, país numero dos

If you've read my previous post on Peru then you're in the right place.

For Nate and I, Bolivia begins with an elongated bus ride and then a quick hop onto a small, very slow, "speed boat" (one from the above picture). It's a beautiful sunny day, and we're feeling great.

Finally, we've made it into Bolivia.

First stop, a cute little touristy town called Copacabana along lake Titicaca.

"Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl

With yellow feathers in her hair, and a dress cut down to there

She would meringue, and do the cha-cha

And while she tried to be a star, Tony always tended the bar

Across the crowded floor, they worked from eight till four

They were young and they had each other

Who could ask for more?"

(Copacabana, Barry Manilow)

Now that song is about Havana, so not the same place, and perhaps not the same vibe, but catchy none the less. At least catchy to me, as soon as I read Copacabana on a road sign it was there for days.

What an omelette means to me

Onto the bobbing speed boat. A lung breaking hike up the mountainous island, Isla del Sol. Breakfast for dinner, and a sunset never to be forgotten.

I'm going to take a moment to comment on my breakfast for dinner. While Nate and I were travelling together, not only were we incredibly cheap with everything we did, we wanted to bathe in the culture of the places we visited. We managed to have meals everyday for 3 bolivianos, which is 60 cents Canadian, so about a $1.80 a day for food. Now these meals weren't often fancy, but they were the local cuisine. Which had rice and potatoes at every meal, including breakfast. No eggs. No coffee. Well, my mother has chickens at home and I'm used to fresh eggs every day. You can imagine that after being down in South America for a week and a half I couldn't help myself and spent an extravagant 8 bolivianos on an omelette for dinner.

And that's the view I had while I enjoyed my omelette.

The next day we enjoyed a 6 hour hike along the whole island and then hopped onto another bus headed toward the city of La Paz. It must have been day 4 or so without a shower, but I've gone longer, and Nate was just as smelly. Inconsequential.

Next stop: Death Road, La Paz

If you click on the photo above I've connected it to a Youtube video. Now it's not my video, but it accurately shows the mountain bike ride we did down death road. Yes, it's called death road. The ride starts at the top of the city limits of La Paz.

The temperature is almost at freezing, you've packed on a jacket and a sweater, 2 pairs of pants, a helmet, gloves, knee pads, elbow pads, eye protection, and a Go Pro if you've got one.

Begin.

The road is paved with perfect black asphalt, there's trucks whistling by on both sides, no guardrails, a massive cliff face to your right. You pick up speed, taking the turns so fast that the wind forms tears in your eyes.

Stop.

The road changes to tightly packed gravel. One lane, so small you couldn't fit a Canadian sized truck along it. But that doesn't stop the locals in their smaller trucks and cars. Cliff face to the right. No guardrails. Huge drop. You pick up speed, hearing the gravel tick underneath your tires. It's now warmed up so much that your sweater is off, there's sweat plastering your hair under your helmet, and you begin to wonder how bad of an idea it would be to take off your long sleeved jacket to potentially expose your soft skin to the hard gravel flying underneath your tires.

Stop.

Drink water. More layers come off. You no longer worry about exposing your soft skin, it's too warm for the long sleeves and pants. The temperature is tropical, the air is wet. Butterflies are all around you, the din of birds cawing and bugs buzzing almost deafening. Your hands are shaky, your thighs hurt, but you're feeling incredible.

Stop.

You've reached the end. Exhausted, euphoric, alive.

Another loud night in La Paz and then off to the jungle.