We gave ourselves an hour (more than enough time) to get to the bus terminal that morning, but still just barely made our bus. We didn't realize that all of the main streets in the city would be closed for a parade (not even the Bolivian residents seemed to have been warned), so it was almost impossible to get to the bus station. As our minibus began the detour, I asked my neighbor, an older gentleman (around 50+), to please let us know when to get off for the Bus terminal, as we were taking a route I was unfamiliar with. The bus driver finally gave up and dropped us all off at a random location far away from where we were supposed to be going, as there was just no way into the city. The man I'd been sitting next to, along with another older woman from the bus, both came up to us to give us directions and make sure we knew where to go to get to the station. At this point we only had about 30 minutes until our bus left, so we grabbed our bags and started booking it up one of the many hills of La Paz's downtown. We got to the end of the street, where it forked, and were just trying to figure out which fork was "straight", as he'd told us to go, when none other but our male friend from the bus comes strolling down an adjoining street! He told us it would be easier to take another minibus, since we were short on time, and told us to follow him. Liz and I knew we were at a loss on how to get to the station on our own, so we followed him to another minibus working its way through the city. This bus took tiny cobblestone streets and alleys that were it not for the parade no car would have taken, and about 15 minutes into the drive I was utterly confused as to where we were. But then I finally recognized the street adjacent to the bus station, when our friend (who had been sitting up front in the bus) called to us that we should get off, as he did the same. When we went to pay our fare, we found that not only had this kind stranger made sure we'd made our bus, but he'd paid for it, too! I don't care what people say about Bolivia, but it's acts of kindness like this that I see way more often than any thievery or danger.
A short buse ride later (for Bolivia, about 4 hours), and after a quick boat crossing, we were in Copacabana -- the main city that sits on the Bolivian side of Lake Titicaca. Well, I use the term "city" very lightly here. It's very small, I would guess around a population of a few thousand or so, with a few hundred tourists at any given time. We grabbed a quick (but delicious) lunch while we waited for the boats to la Isla del Sol, which didn't leave for another 45 minutes. Since it was hot and sunny, we decided to ride on the top of the boat, and take advantage of the views that offered. Well, it was hot and sunny on land. But put us on top of a boat out on an enormous lake, and it gets cold fast! The supposedly 20-minute boat ride turned out to be more like two hours. Boat after boat passed ours as we puttered along, barely seeming to move. It wasn't until we were about 80% of the way there that they must have decided to try the other motor or something, because we seemed to kick into hyperdrive and make the last bit of the way about three times faster.
Isla del sol was much smaller, population-wise, than I could have ever imagined. So much so that I can't seem to even find census information on the population, more than an approximation of about 800 families. Liz and I took the boat to the Southern portion of the Island, planning to hike the about three-hour-long path to the Northern side the next day. As soon as we got off the boat, we were greeted by tons of little boys calling out "Hotel ____!! Solo x Bolivianos por la noche!" (Only x Bs per night!), some of which were pretty tempting, at about $2 per night. However, our Spanish teacher, Jenny, also works as a tour guide and has amazing recommendations for everywhere, as well as tons of connections. So she had called ahead and reserved a hotel that she recommended for us, Hotel Caluche. We asked around for our hotel, and the only answer we were really able to get was "Up there!" *pointing toward the very top of the hill*. So, we started climbing these enormous stone steps toward the top of the hill. Eventually, after turning around a couple of times and asking probably way too many people, we found our hotel.
THE BEDS! Those must have been some of the most comfortable beds I've ever slept in. Or, maybe I was just that tired. Either way, it was one of the most relaxing weekends I've had in a long time. That night I ended up getting pretty sick, we deduced from dehydration, so having a nice place to sleep and get better was a godsend. Our room was very simple -- beds, a coatrack made from an old branch, and a bathroom with a sink, toilet, and open shower. But the view from our beds was amazing. Each bed faced a huge window looking out onto the lake and the Andes mountains across from us. A huge storm rolled in that night, and the rain continued into the morning, making the trail we'd planned on hiking impassable. Since I was still recovering from the day before, we decided to spend the morning taking it easy, playing cards and reading (I'd brought Harry Potter in Spanish), and then we would take the afternoon boat back to Copacabana.
After a slow morning and an amazing breakfast (fresh baked bread with fresh butter and peach jam, scrambled eggs, coffee, tea, and "juice" made from banana blended with milk, all included with the $10/night for the room!), we packed up our stuff and headed back down to the dock. This time we knew to sit in the lower deck portion of the boat... which turned out to be just about as hot as the upper deck was cold. We saw a group of European-looking tourists who had seemed to find the perfect spot to sit by climbing over the railing on the upper deck and sitting on the windows of the lower deck -- they didn't seem to get as much wind, but just enough to not be sweltering either. Definitely made a note of that for next time!
We spent the rest of the day in Copacabana chatting with other tourists (we met people from Sweden, Turkey and Germany), and exploring all of the little touristy shops the town has to offer. It's definitely a tourist town, but had the best prices on llama sweaters, so Liz and I each got one -- you can't be in Bolivia for 3 months and go home without a llama sweater!
Oddly enough, my favorite part of the trip was the drive home. I'd spent so long enjoying the amazing beds at the island hotel that I was able to stay awake the whole bus ride (virtually unheard of for me -- put me in a moving vehicle and I'm out)! The sun came out, and the water was this gorgeous green-ish blue that I'd never seen before except for in photos of exotic tropical waters. That combined with the simple serenity of the family farms was something I've never come close to experiencing before.
As we got closer to La Paz, we got to this odd in-between, where the very poorest of the poor lived -- not so far out that they had huge farms they were making money off, but not close enough to probably have ever been to the city, either. Each house was no bigger than one room, probably smaller than 300 square feet. It was so sobering to see so many people living in such poverty -- and yet so many of them seem so incredibly happy. The kids find whatever they can to play with, and are glad to have anything at all to use for a toy. Whereas kids in the states play with a toy maybe 10 times and then need the newest, latest or greatest. In the states, it's so easy to focus on what you don't have rather than what you do; see all the families with so much and wonder why you don't have all the same things, rather than see the even larger number of families who have so little, and appreciate where you land in the mix. I like to believe I'm appreciative for all the opportunities I've been given, and the wonderful people in my life. But this bus ride, giving me glimpses into lives that so easily could have been mine, was extremely sobering, and made me realize more than ever how impossibly lucky I am, and how important it is to give every shot 100%, for all the people who will never even be given that opportunity to begin with.