Don't You Know You've Kept Him Waiting?

Boating Lake Titicaca. See, it's still NOT the sea.

A nice welcome to Bolivia from the bus conductor who gave us all twenty minutes to get through immigration before he'd threaten to drive off.

The awkward Bolivian customs official subsequently took almost an hour to process 40-odd of us, during which time the bus conductor had kept us standing outside in the cold.

With a couple of fellow travellers still in the customs office, the fat pig actually did start to drive off, before one of the lads' girlfriends implored him to stop, whence an argument ensued and fatty threatened to put the poor bloke off for taking too long!

Bienvenidos a Bolivia, I don´t think. The general greeting from several of the locals is one of sullen indifference, though our hostel owners make up for it by being extra lovely and the restaurant touts are very smiley. We'll see...

Copacabana: another romantic, easy-going hippy retreat replete with shops, caffs, bars, restaurants and book exchanges. Just right for hanging about in for a while.

At El Condor & The Eagle, a Bolivian-Irish venture, the boss Dan gives us some good travel tips, plus the best beans on toast I have had since January.

A surly lady in tremor, at bar Km Zero

We take the (miserable-crewed) boat on a day-trip to the Isla Del Sol for a nice five-hour workout across the spine of the island at 4,066 metres above sea level. My personal trainer will be proud of me.

Claire, Ivana and Kim, going down...

The "Sacred Table", which is frankly disappointing.
Don't think King Arthur has owt to worry about.

The altitude has taken it´s toll on us in several ways. The breathlessness even after an energetic shower, some headaches, coughs and colds, swollen glands; my insides seem to have dried up (if you know what I mean) and we have both suffered the reverse problem.

Also, we could power a wind farm between us... nice, but not uncommon, as we found from a friendly Taiwanese pharmacist we'd chatted to at Machu Picchu. Something to do with gut flora?

Happy days, eh! Self-enforced downtime for a couple of quiet days, but we're now in noisy, mentally crowded La Paz and higher ground.

Put Your Hand Over The Side Of The Boat

To Puno and Lake Titicaca . "The world's highest navigable lake" we all know, but I didn't expect it to be so large - it's hard to believe it is a lake and not the sea.

Welcome!

Big Mac and fries to go, please

Melissa shows off her wares

We took a boat ride to the floating Uros islands, on which the inhabitants dwell, literally having built their homes on beds of reeds, and the colourful ladies sell their wares to us tourists. Apparently, these people fled here from the mainland when the Spaniards arrived and never went back.

Thor Heyerdahl and Kon-Tiki took inspiration from these fantastic reed boats 

Another couple of hours sailing brings us to the the island of Taquile for lunch and a chance to buy some more souvenirs from the expectant artisans. They've been there a good few hundred years, have the locals. They must have been really bored without any knitting or weaving of alpaca jumpers and hats to be done before we arrived.

This man´s red hat and belt say he is married - sorry, ladies.

NOT the sea.

We stayed in Puno (which is very cold when that sun goes in), took a wander 'round the streets and spent a couple of hours watching the biggest workers' procession ever - every trade seemed to be represented: nurses, hydro-electricians, vets (complete with dogs), builders, firemen, tour guides, civil engineers, lawyers, you name it. The obvious pride and unity that went into the event shamed anything we in Britain can summon up these days. It put a lump in my throat, as much for that fact as for the people involved.

Association of Artisan ladies

Veterinarians

Four hours´drumming under the blazing sun
and only a bottle of pop to keep you going

It must have gone on four hours at least and I hope the brass band were on overtime - they never stopped the whole time, kept going by bottles of Cola and sarnies provided by the local shop.

Another cathedral

Another church

So, that was Peru. Lots to do there, great spectacles and mysteries, but it never really connected with us like Colombia or Ecuador. Maybe we´re jaded, maybe the place just wasn´t as good as the other countries?

Bolivia next, where we are promised low prices, lower living standards and stomach trouble, possibly involving hospitalization. Ah well, here goes, back on the bus...

The Sort Of Blue Between Clouds When The Sun Comes Out

... except there were no clouds, we´re only looking at the big blue, blue sky.

Kim points proudly at the Sun Gate, which we walked to and from before 9am 

How they keep the grass so short

"The Classic"

Sun Gate

Apparently, Machu Picchu means "old mountain", but if you mispronounce it ´pi-chew´ instead of ´pic-chew´ it means ´old willy´. So Cesar our guide told us. He is a hilarious cross between Kenneth Williams, Graham Norton and Frankie Howerd.

Pisac, site of panic AD2014

Light at the end of the tunnel....

Kim and Cesar, Up Ollantaytambo!
Married with four kids, so he said.

Kim and Cesar, playing at Mummies at Pisac.

That was before he also told us three hours into our two-day trip to Machu Picchu, via Pisac and Ollantaytambo in the Sacred Valley, that we´d need our original passports to get through the gates. Guess what we hadn´t packed...

Cue panic, frantic phoning by Cesar to our travel agent, who phoned the MP offices to check if this was the case, and a very, very uncomfortable period until, at 7am on Friday and after a 4.30am start, we finally walked through the turnstile without a second glance at our tatty, photocopied passports from the inspector, and up to the most majestic vista we´ve ever seen, just as the sun poked his head around the mountain.

Lllama farmers

Dad, 600 years ago all these stones were chosen to fit, dragged up a mountain from the quarry,
cut to size without proper tools, then laid without mortar. A canny job for Gofton´s back in the day.

Looking at some astronomic sun mirrors,
or they could have been dishes for mixing dye.
As usual, no-one really knows.

SmuffWatch circa 2025

After another nice couple of hours´ ambling around the runs we got the bus back to Aguas Calientes, the most touristy town you will ever encounter.

It was nice enough, though. Kim had a hot thermal bath thing and I had a beer in a reggae bar, then it was on the IncaRail train back to Cuzco.

There isn´t a right lot I can add to an account of Machu Picchu that you won´t probably already know - it is incredible, amazing, wow! and awesome all in one place. If you want to go, go soon, as Wilfredo tells us it´ll be closing permanently within a few years due to erosion. Bloody tourists.

Hope these pictures tell the story of our trip highlight so far...  now onward to Puno and Lake Titicaca.

Aye canny, but it´s not Kate Bush at the Hammersmith Odeon, is it?

Put Me Up On The Angels´ Shoulders

A walking tour of Cuzco to the top of the city, where some of the youngsters are feeling the altitude. We do okay and maybe are acclimatising after all.  Still only taking the train to Machu Picchu though!

Andy Carroll again

Alpaca workshop

A Luthier, luthiering

We saw the White Christ (Cristo Blanco), some more Inca ruins, a Luthier's workshop and Kim bought some alpaca legwarmers from the alpaca shop.

Cuzco is very pretty and very touristy, for obvious reasons, essentially one large trap, but the San Pedro market is good, with fruit, veg, meat, cheese, more dried things and lots of nice trinkets.

Margarita time: only 30 bob a pint!

We have a lovely juice (jugo) from Margarita: strawberry and banana for Kim, carrot and orange to combat my cold - most definitely not hiking three or four days to Machu Picchu. I´d only end up being carried up on a mule, and no-one wants that on their holidays.

Album with more pictures here...
.