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Following up on the last post...we got our money back from the tour that we didn't want anymore and then promptly and gladly turned that money over to the guy who fixed our digital camera. Rachael has a theory that the guy just pressed a reset button and everything went back to normal, but if he can figure that out before me, he deserves the $40 it cost to get our precious memory-maker back in working order. We enjoyed our last day in Cuzco by seeing the rest of the museums that we had paid for already and then went to a traditional dance festival in the evening. All in all, a very good day.
We awoke early on Tuesday to start heading down to Puno. We met some very nice people: an Asian couple from San Francisco (Mike and Shirley), a couple from England who were traveling for a FULL year, and a very seasoned traveler from England named Dave. We really weren't sure what to do in Puno, and we were tossing around the idea of staying there for the night then continuing on to Bolivia. The moment we got to Puno, however, it became quite apparent what we weren't going to do, that is stay in Puno. Everything I had read about this Peruvian town on the shores of Lake Titicaca basically was summed up in four words: It's a dump.
So, without waiting more than a few minutes we decided to try our luck and get to the Bolivian border that night. With Dave as our inspiration and encourager, we found a cheap bus to the border (although we found out that we had overpaid by 15 Soles each - it was still cheap). The only reason why we took the chance to get to the border that night was the assurance of the driver that we could get there on time. Of course, while we were in route, Dave read in his "Lost Planet" book that the border shut down at 7:30pm. They again assured us that we would get there before then but of course they weren't taking into account that Bolivia was one hour ahead of Peru. When we got off the bus Rachael went with Dave to get our bags and I went to get a taxi to the border. As I went around the bus I ran into both of them and noticed horrified looks on the faces, our bags were missing! No more than a few seconds passed when I realized that the driver had already taken off our bags and put them in a taxi without telling us. {BIG sigh of relief} We got to the Peruvian border and got our exit stamps and then we had to hike up hill, bags in hand, the quarter mile to the Bolivian immigration office. Literally, we got to the office at 7:29pm. It took a bit to fill out all the visa info and then we reluctantly handed over $200 in cash for the visa. (Quick side note, apparently US citizens are the only people in the world who have to pay this amount when entering Bolivia. A product of the close relationship the president of Bolivia, Evo Morales, and the president of Venezuela, Hugo Chavez.)
We finally got everything filled out and got a ride into the lovely little town of Copacabana. Dave lead the way, refusing to pay more than $2 per person and finally we got to a place whose owner was hesitant at first but then caved when I explained that he could be a whole $6 richer if he let us have two rooms for the night. We didn't sleep that great, probably because of the altitude (12,000 ft) and the rock-hard bed, but we got up and got going immediately for La Paz. We decided en route to go to Uyuni instead of Cochabamba just to have the bigger travel days at the front end of the trip and after a four hour trip we got to the VERY polluted city of La Paz. We then hopped on a small bus to go and visit the ruins at Tiwanaku. My plan was to get there, take a few photos, get back to La Paz, and continue on towards Uyuni. The plan was great in theory, since the trip to Tiwanaku should only take one hour, but of course I wasn't figuring in Bolivian-standard-time. A three hour adventure turned into five and by then we couldn't find a bus to go directly to Uyuni.
We did have a very helpful bus driver who volunteered to help us find a route at the bus terminal. I stupidly left Rachael in the bus, after we locked the doors and rolled up the windows and me and Urban, the bus driver, went to find a good bus. We found something cheap after a quick search and went back to find a much-flustered Rachael, who detailed the events that went on while we were gone. We had been gone for no more than five minutes when a group of five punks started pounding on the windows and rocking the van. Of course, Rachael didn't know what they were saying but understood that they were pointing under the bus and motioning for Rachael to get out. She had just cracked the door open when her little guardian angel, a cholita who barely spoke any Spanish, came to the rescue and made her shut the door and then chased off the delinquents. I've since promised never to leave Rachael's side.
Again, en route, we learned that we would be getting to Oruro too late to catch the next bus to Uyuni and that we would have to stay there for the night and the next day since the buses don't leave until around 8pm. So, after a short search of less than adequate hostels we decided on paying the big bucks ($30) and got a really nice hotel. We've enjoyed a restful day doing mostly nothing, highlighted by a couple hours of feeding the pigeons in the main plaza, and we can't wait to see the great Salar de Uyuni!
We awoke early on Tuesday to start heading down to Puno. We met some very nice people: an Asian couple from San Francisco (Mike and Shirley), a couple from England who were traveling for a FULL year, and a very seasoned traveler from England named Dave. We really weren't sure what to do in Puno, and we were tossing around the idea of staying there for the night then continuing on to Bolivia. The moment we got to Puno, however, it became quite apparent what we weren't going to do, that is stay in Puno. Everything I had read about this Peruvian town on the shores of Lake Titicaca basically was summed up in four words: It's a dump.
So, without waiting more than a few minutes we decided to try our luck and get to the Bolivian border that night. With Dave as our inspiration and encourager, we found a cheap bus to the border (although we found out that we had overpaid by 15 Soles each - it was still cheap). The only reason why we took the chance to get to the border that night was the assurance of the driver that we could get there on time. Of course, while we were in route, Dave read in his "Lost Planet" book that the border shut down at 7:30pm. They again assured us that we would get there before then but of course they weren't taking into account that Bolivia was one hour ahead of Peru. When we got off the bus Rachael went with Dave to get our bags and I went to get a taxi to the border. As I went around the bus I ran into both of them and noticed horrified looks on the faces, our bags were missing! No more than a few seconds passed when I realized that the driver had already taken off our bags and put them in a taxi without telling us. {BIG sigh of relief} We got to the Peruvian border and got our exit stamps and then we had to hike up hill, bags in hand, the quarter mile to the Bolivian immigration office. Literally, we got to the office at 7:29pm. It took a bit to fill out all the visa info and then we reluctantly handed over $200 in cash for the visa. (Quick side note, apparently US citizens are the only people in the world who have to pay this amount when entering Bolivia. A product of the close relationship the president of Bolivia, Evo Morales, and the president of Venezuela, Hugo Chavez.)
We finally got everything filled out and got a ride into the lovely little town of Copacabana. Dave lead the way, refusing to pay more than $2 per person and finally we got to a place whose owner was hesitant at first but then caved when I explained that he could be a whole $6 richer if he let us have two rooms for the night. We didn't sleep that great, probably because of the altitude (12,000 ft) and the rock-hard bed, but we got up and got going immediately for La Paz. We decided en route to go to Uyuni instead of Cochabamba just to have the bigger travel days at the front end of the trip and after a four hour trip we got to the VERY polluted city of La Paz. We then hopped on a small bus to go and visit the ruins at Tiwanaku. My plan was to get there, take a few photos, get back to La Paz, and continue on towards Uyuni. The plan was great in theory, since the trip to Tiwanaku should only take one hour, but of course I wasn't figuring in Bolivian-standard-time. A three hour adventure turned into five and by then we couldn't find a bus to go directly to Uyuni.We did have a very helpful bus driver who volunteered to help us find a route at the bus terminal. I stupidly left Rachael in the bus, after we locked the doors and rolled up the windows and me and Urban, the bus driver, went to find a good bus. We found something cheap after a quick search and went back to find a much-flustered Rachael, who detailed the events that went on while we were gone. We had been gone for no more than five minutes when a group of five punks started pounding on the windows and rocking the van. Of course, Rachael didn't know what they were saying but understood that they were pointing under the bus and motioning for Rachael to get out. She had just cracked the door open when her little guardian angel, a cholita who barely spoke any Spanish, came to the rescue and made her shut the door and then chased off the delinquents. I've since promised never to leave Rachael's side.
Again, en route, we learned that we would be getting to Oruro too late to catch the next bus to Uyuni and that we would have to stay there for the night and the next day since the buses don't leave until around 8pm. So, after a short search of less than adequate hostels we decided on paying the big bucks ($30) and got a really nice hotel. We've enjoyed a restful day doing mostly nothing, highlighted by a couple hours of feeding the pigeons in the main plaza, and we can't wait to see the great Salar de Uyuni!
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