Copacabana

Arriving in Copacabana in the early afternoon as the sunlight blazed around the cobbled streets, a cloudless blue sky overhead and the dazzling waters of Lake Titicaca down the small slope to the shore felt like a real holiday destination. The whole town emitted a relaxed vibe that was enhanced by the carnival atmosphere of the local schools´ marching bands that were in procession down the streets for the afternoon. We joined the holiday atmosphere by also laying back and relaxing as the sun streamed down on us- me reading another great book (which seems to render me incapable of focusing until I discover the outcome of the characters) and Blakey fiddling with his charango- not a crude euphemism- his newly acquired 5 string guitar like instrument. Other than enjoying a delicious meal and jug of fresh lemonade in the pretty flower filled garden of our hostel- Blakey sampling the local speciality, trout from the lake- we did little else. We did laugh at the slight idiocy of another traveller who tried to complain about her food because her trout had bones in it (unlike that boneless trout found in European seas I presume).

That evening, down to our last Bolivianos, we realised that there was no ATM here and we would need to head to the bank the next morning. We made do with a cup of coffee and some left over snacks from the bus journey and fell asleep ridiculously early.

The next morning I awoke ridiculously early- something that never fails to make Blakey`s heart sink though thankfully the last few chapters of my book kept me occupied until a reasonable hour (far preferable to me poking him until he wakes up I am told). After a wonder down to the bank to find it wouldn`t open until 2pm we gratefully tucked into our complimentary breakfast and then headed out to explore this picturesque little town. The beautiful white plastered walls of the Moorish cathedral, decorated with turquoise glazed tiles on the large doomed roof stood out fantastically againgst the dark blue sky provided by the high altitude of this place and we enjoyed photographing the prety gardens in the central plaza and alongside interesting sculptures.

Although we had planned a longer trek, our desperation to get money out saw us change our route to climb the looming hills that stood over the city. Although a relatively short trail the steep incline coupled with a lack of oxygen up here gave us quite a work out- we took very small steps and very deep breaths. Almost at the top the path split, leading to two sharp peaks- one with a large monument and religious artefacts overlooking the town, the other a mass of rocks and grassy slopes with views of the countryside. We climbed the latter first- again with a slow and steady approach. At the top we were rewarded with gorgeous views of the lake and more of that peace and quiet that this town holds in abundance. We laid back in the grass and let the breeze blow across our faces as the wispy clouds blew across the sky. It was blissful!

Eventually we decided to tear ourselves away from our little paradise and tackle the other slope. The rocky stones to the summit were interspersed with monuments to deceased village people (not the band) placed in the most picturesque spots. At the top a large monument was adorned with fresh flowers and we had views of the entire town as the school marching bands paraded through the tiny streets (playing the animals went in two by two!). Other than that we saw the lake stretch out around us, disappearing beyond the horizon giving the impression of a vast yet calm ocean. It had been a gorgeous morning and as we crept into the afternoon our stomachs begged us to go downhill.

By the time we arrived at the bank it was already 2.45pm- but rather than find it open we found a massive queue of people sneaking right down the road and the doors still barred. We were the first gringos to join the queue, perching on a doorstep in the hot afternoon sun- scared there might not be enough money to go around! Soon a host of other gringos started to queue behind us, though to our horror the locals all seemed to think they could queue just infront- those sneaky old ladies with their shawls and bowler hats were the worst- many of them just hot footed it straight to the front where a crowd was collecting around the door. It looked like we were going to be here a long time.

Eventually, coming up to 3.30pm the staff decided to show up. The whole crowd of people stood and moved forwards though us gringos stuck to our queueing ettiquette. This was fantastically rewarded when a gun toting security guard led us straight through the doors ahead of the rabble of Boliviano pensioners- suck on that queue jumping grandma!

But we were not done yet! I handed the cashier my card and she put it through the machine. She asked for it agin and tried againd and then turned to the next person telling me my card wasn´t working. We had given away our very last Boliviano to a man collecting on the hill- we had no money and were pretty hungry now. I stood and waited for an answer but the next girl´s card wouldn´t work, or the one after that, and after that again. We were all getting a little worried- people had hostal bills to pay and bus tickets to buy. We knew we had to leave the country the next day or overstay our visa- something we had heard could turn into a buerocratic nightmare. The less than customer friendly cashier started to get in a fluster and after 5 cards from different banks wouldn´t work she shouted at us that it was our banks fault- nothing to do with her. Yeah right, but we had to face it, there was to be no money this afternoon.

As we walked out on to the street we looked at each other in disbelief- how could we be so stupid not to keep an emergency fund? As Blakey´s tummy rumbled a couple of wonderful girls came to our rescue. They trustingly lent us 10 pounds so we could eat that evening and the details of their hotel so we might pay it back the next day. A lot of travellers take the view what comes around goes around, and one of the girls had been left with nothing in Buenos Aires after having her bags robbed so was only too pleased to return the favour that had saved her. We very gratefully set out to pacify our growling stomachs.

We had been at the bank for almost 2 hours of the afternoon so got to a cosy looking restaurant across from our hostel at nearly 5pm. We sat and waited for this well overdue meal when the waitress approached me with what looked like spaghetti piled with steak chunks. I had specified that I was vegetarian but I got Blakey to double check what this was. He nearly retched as he chewed on what seemed to be an extremely foul type of mushroom. After a few attempts I pushed the offensive concoction off my pasta but the stodgy spaghetti was drenched in the sauce. We left without leaving a tip and bought an emergency yoghurt to pacify me!

Although less than an ideal afternoon we had enjoyed our time on Copacabana and were taken with this little town. It seemed to attract a disproportionate number of European hippies but it was beautifully located and managed to retain that tranquility even as things went wrong. We took a final stroll around the market stalls selling brightly woven trousers and Inca style jewellery before I once again fell asleep obscenely early.

Our last morning in town- fingers crossed- required money for a bus ticket- A return trip to the bank saw a far more helpful man, a far more civilised queue and us obtaining the money we needed. We posted the borrowed money through the door of the girls room, bought our bus tickets and said a final goodbye to Bolivia. We both agreed that it had been the most surprising, interesting and enjoyable country in South America so far.