The lack of earplugs last night has only worked
partially. Between us and the neighbouring
building, there is a laneway that provides access to another hotel. The neighbours also have a couple of dogs
that bark furiously whenever someone walks down the lane to access the hotel. Otherwise, it was quiet.
We’re up early, braving the electric shower with exposed
wires, breakfasted and off to the foreshore to buy tickets for our trip to Isla
del Sol. As promised, there’s tickets
available for the boat. The boat itself doesn’t
quite live up to promises made by the brochure and the lady yesterday, but it’s
not bad. At least it doesn’t look to be
in any danger of imminent sinking.
We’re relatively late getting onto the boat, so we can’t sit
together. Andrea sits beside a young Brazilian
couple. I sit beside an older Bolivian
couple. He “manspreads” to ensure I have
only ¾ of a seat. Nice.
The boat makes the slowest trip to Island possible. Although the trip is scenic, it still becomes
tedious. We can see the Isla del Sol
from a long way off. It appears to be
covered in terracing and as we get closer, we can see ruins of house-like structures. The snow-capped mountains in the distance
present a spectacular backdrop to the whole scene. For rainy season, we seem to be lucky – it’s
a beautiful day. There’s clouds about,
but certainly plenty of sun too.
On arrival at the northern end of the island, each boat
scores an optional guide. He takes us to
a crappy museum to start with – 10 BOB’s to get in, but includes access to the north-western
end of the island, to which we must hike if we want to see the temple, which of
course we do.
After the museum, we walk down to the beach (full of camping
hippies), he asks for his 10 BOB’s per person to be the guide – the crowd has
thinned remarkably. Everyone is slow to
step up, so I prompt Andrea to make the first move, which in turn prompts
others to follow.
During hike to the temple, the guide is quite entertaining
but occasionally bullshits. He talks
about 400 year old eucalyptus trees and notes that they came from Australia! One can do the maths and figure out that the
trees are NOT 400 years old!
As we gain a little elevation during our hike, the views,
both of the island and the mountains in the distance, are only improving. It’s just a shame about the hippies
cluttering it up. And the rubbish.
We arrive at the end of the island and see the birthplace of
the sun and the moon. We hear lots about
the “energy” of the place. Sadly, I have
to head back early as I’ve absorbed lots of the energy – I need the
bathroom. When I ask if there is a
bathroom in the area, I’m told I can’t urinate anywhere, as it is a sacred
place. Bah.
After a slow and careful walk, I make it back safely. For 2 Bolivianos, I’m given 6 (six) sheets of
toilet paper at the bathroom entrance and perform Jesus-like miracles with it. I make a mental note to ensure that I always
have my own person supply with me in the future, and paste it over the top of
the previous mental note regarding the same issue. I’ll learn, eventually.
I wait for the girls, who turn up 15 minutes later, some
5-10 minutes before the boat is scheduled to leave. We are more fortunate than some of the
stragglers… It turns out that the
company has a fleet of boats during the day, so no-one is left behind.
The boat meanders back to the centre of the Island. We get an hour here to visit more ruins or
have something to eat. We choose food,
but miss the better places for one on the beach that is quite rustic. Afterwards, we head to one of the better ones
for something tastier. A dodgy pizza is
the result. We catch up with our new
Brazilian friends from the boat.
Back on the boat, we continue to dawdle back to
Copacabana. We’ve only had a short time
on the island, largely due to the slow boat.
On the boat, Alma chats to a Uruguayan lady. Turns out she has an Australian husband. Get off boat and chat to them, plus their
twin daughters, who look about Alma’s age, but as a result we miss saying
goodbye to Brazilians.
After a bit of rest, we track down Josiel and Soraya in the
hotel and ask if they want to have dinner with us. We go to an Italian restaurant down the
road. It’s a tiny place, tiny menu but
lovely food (pasta). Back to hotel,
Andrea has a moderately warm cup of tea, then we’re off to bed.
Alma, out with the twins (who are actually 27), is told to
be back at 11. Turns up at 12pm. Can’t understand why we’re upset. She has forgotten to adjust her clock
(phone), despite a conversation about it earlier. Muppet.
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