Flamingos, fish, and beer-soaked cars: Copacabana

Given the ordeal getting to Puno and the extra time it took to file the police reports, Matt! suggested that instead of trying to get to La Paz all in one day that same afternoon, we head to Copacabana, which would take less time. Copacabana is a lovely resort-ish town on the Bolivian side of Lake Titicaca, and I had kind of wanted to take the scenic route through there anyway, so his plan was genius.

Thankfully, we had one last experience in Peru that allowed us to leave without a sour taste in our mouth. Walking through Puno back to the bus station, we swung by a small little cafe across from the university. This was far from where gringos normally congregate, since most simply go from the bus station straight to the floating islands. In addition to a tasty lunch, we met the friendliest cafe owner who was genuinely interested in talking to us, and particularly gracious and hospitable. Even some other cafe patrons took a kind interest in us, and we were proud to declare that yes, people from the U.S. do sometimes go off the beaten path and eat where the locals eat. It was a great pick-me-up after the evening before and we got on the bus to Bolivia in high spirits.


On the way to Bolivia, we kept getting great glimpses of the Peruvian side of Lake Titicaca, including my first views of the pink flamingos that live in the area. We crossed the border at the town of Yunguyo, almost avoided paying the newly instituted $135 visa fee (drat!), and in no time we were in a taxi with three cholas (and their buckets of fish) headed toward Copacabana.






We didn´t have much on our agenda that night, except to try some trout from the lake, and to absorb some of Copacabana´s weekender charm, especially around the beach and the gleaming white moorish Catedral de Copacabana that presides over the town. The cathedral honors the Virgen de Copacabana, and she´s so important that people come from across Bolivia to seek her blessing. The best part is that when people purchase a new car (even as far away as La Paz), they will take their car to Copacabana on a Saturday morning so that the car can also be blessed, protecting the owner and any passengers that it will carry throughout its lifetime. We witnessed this ceremony on our way out of town, and it was fun to see a parade of cars decorated in flowers and wreaths, being doused with beer and holy water.

That last item of note from Copacabana will be of particular interest to our Alaskan friends who are familiar with the state ferry. Bolivians have a distinctly less-organized and decentralized approach toward carrying vehicles across expanses of water: Why note a rickety, wobbly barge for every vehicle, and separate speedboats for all the passengers?