Easter Island Eclipse Trek - Day 3

HER NAME WAS LOLA, SHE WAS A SHOWGIRL

July 6th, 2010
Once again we woke to picture perfect weather; it seems that in Bolivia, blue skies and mild temps abound. Well, at least during our stay they did. And we were getting used to the altitude, too! The day was getting better by the second. And just when I thought it couldn't be more perfect, it improved - our missing luggage arrived. I was on my way to the hydrofoil (late as usual) when I heard the news about our bags. I immediately retrieved my belongings and ran back to the room to deposit them. Now much later than before, I hoofed it to the boat. Ivan was waiting dockside, beckoning me to hurry aboard. I climbed in and apologized to the others for being tardy. But for once it wasn't me that held up proceedings; one or two others made us wait so they could change clothes. Once everyone was in they took a head count. There were 8 fewer of us than previous outings. But today that was expected.

A family from Netherlands was part of our group but they elected to skip this excursion. They had bigger fish to fry. They had arranged to have our uber-talkative tour guide take them into La Paz for the day. This newly formed group was headed to a bar to watch the World Cup semi-final match between Netherlands and Uruguay. The family had arrived in La Paz prior to the group's arrival on the 4th and found a bar with other Dutch folks. They agreed to meet up there again with their compatriots for the semi-final match. About 200 Dutch, all decked out in orange shirts and jerseys, crowded into the little cantina. So in essence, about half the population of Netherlands was there.

Meanwhile, back on the hydrofoil...

The rest of us were gliding across the indigo waters of Lake Titicaca bound for a few islands. Our first stop: Copacabana. When we arrived in the port, I couldn't help but think we'd been somehow magically transported to a Mediterranean isle. The harbor was chock-a-block with multi-colored fishing and recreational boats. The hillsides sported colorful terraced homes and a large white anchor dominated the main dock. We weren't scheduled to be there long so we had to hustle to see the sights. Of course, everything was uphill from the harbor. I was huffing and puffing for the first 20 minutes as we climbed toward the local cathedral. Guess I wasn't as acclimatized as I thought...

Once away from the harbor, which is home to the Bolivian Navy, the streets lost their Mediterranean feel. Our surroundings were now more a stereotype of some nondescript South American country. It was as though we'd walked onto a movie set. It was kind of surreal. Our pathway finally leveled out and we were in the heart of town. There we visited the Basilica de Virgen de la Candelaria, which houses the statue of La Virgen de Candelaria (The Dark Virgin of the Lake). The basilica is a blindingly white Moorish-styled cathedral that is considered the most important pilgrimage stop in all of Bolivia. Daily Benedicions de Movildades (blessings of automobiles) take place on the street in front. To get to the cathedral we waded through numerous vehicles (buses, cars, and trucks) all decked out by their owners with flower garlands, flags, and ribbons.

Also on the street are flocks of vendors selling little trinkets of seemingly random objects, but in miniature; cars, play money, houses, diplomas, soccer balls, and so much more. The items are purchased and then brought into the basilica so that they may be blessed. If you want a new car, you have a miniature blessed. If you want to do well in school, you have a mini diploma blessed, and so on. Times are definitely tough as evidenced by the number of people buying trinkets to be blessed. Of course there are also the usual touristy things for sale in town, but away from the cathedral. It was fun strolling the streets and checking out all the t-shirts that emulated well-known brand name products, but with a twist.

We returned to the hydrofoil and set out for our next stop: The Temple Of The Virgins on Isla de la Luna (Island of the Moon). Access to the island from the boat was via a rickety wooden dock that even Indiana Jones would hesitate to cross. Once safely on land we had to, you guessed it, climb more stairs! These were earthen switchbacks lined with stone. From the lake to the temple we probably hiked up 100 ft (30m) vertically. It doesn't sound like much, but when you're already at 13,000+ ft (3900+ meters) in altitude and struggling to breathe, those extra few feet can be daunting. Of course, it doesn't help one's ego when little women who are probably 60 years old practically jog past you on the incline so they can sell you their wares at the temple site.
(Aymara woman selling necklaces on Isla de la Luna)

The temple itself was very modest. By the looks of it I would guess that it hadn't been used in centuries. The architecture bore a striking resemblance to the temple at Tiwanaku. The site wasn't very large and we could walk up to it but not go inside, so we didn't spend that much time there. Most of the stay was used up haggling with the women selling necklaces. Compared to Copacabana, Isla de la Luna was quite primitive. The only other structure we saw was a single home, though we didn't go very far on the little postage stamp-sized island. The view from the temple was breathtaking; at your feet was the lake, and beyond it were snow-capped mountains.

Once more we dared to cross the rickety dock and board our trusty lake steed, the Sun Arrow. We chugged over to our third and final island for the day, Isla del Sol (Island of the Sun). There we had lunch on a grassy terrace at "Uma Kollu", an 'Archeological Restaurant'. If you wanted lunch, you had to climb. This time it was even steeper and higher than the temple at Isla de la Luna. I'm not the only one who about collapsed into a chair when we arrived. Though the food and service made up for the strenuous hike to get there. Here, too, I felt I was out of place and time; with the linen-covered tables and cloth umbrellas overhead, the setting was almost French in nature. Yet the view conflicted with that feeling; between the surrounding pine trees you could catch glimpses of the lake below and the distant snowy mountains. It was all very alpine, yet not, at the same time.

When lunch was over we had the option of proceeding directly back to the boat or to hike even further uphill to see the local 'Fountain of Youth'. A few elected to hike back down and wait at the boat. My thinking was I was rested, fed, and watered, and I had come all that way, so I may as well go for broke and see everything I could, altitude be damned. The hike up was beautiful. A little gurgling stream flowed alongside the stone and earthen trail. One of my fellow travelers and I took turns encouraging each other as we huffed and puffed our way uphill. We took frequent stops along the path to let others pass us by. And then finally we reached our destination - the Fountain of Youth.

It wasn't at all what I expected.

I thought it would be really flashy and showy like the Trevi Fountain in Rome. Like maybe the local artisans carved stone sculptures around it to honor its multiple blessings of abundant health, yada yada yada. Nope. It wasn't all like that. It was simply a stone wall with two U-shaped troughs sticking out and a square catch basin below. Okay, so Bolivians are masters of the subdued and understated. Several in the group joked about drinking the water. Only one did; a teenager traveling with his mom. The trip was his high school graduation present. He took a sip or two of the water. And he was mildly sick for the next two days.

On the boat I spoke with an elderly woman from the group who was traveling with her daughter. "Didn't you want to see the fountain?" I asked her.

"Nope. It isn't all that impressive. Besides, I've seen it before." Turns out she is an archaeologist.

I smiled at her. "Well, gee, thanks a lot. You could've saved me the hike if you knew it wasn't all that great."

She winked and gave me an evil grin. "Yeah, I could have..."

On the return trip across the lake to our hotel, I was transported yet again to another era. This time it felt like the 1950s. Several of the vessel's crew were crowded around a small transistor radio, straining to hear the World Cup game through tons of static (and vuvuzelas). I went up and joined them at their spot right behind the captain to hear the outcome firsthand. I didn't understand half of what the announcers said, but I knew when a goal was scored by the cheers and screams of both the crowds and the announcers.

After the game I spoke at length with a new tour guide who had joined us for this part of the journey. He pointed out the distant mountains that lay ahead of us and explained how barren they looked. "Officially," he said, "the government claims that 40% of the snow and glaciers have been lost to global warming. I've lived here all my life. I grew up on the lake. I'd say it's more like 50% is gone. When I was a child in school we were taught about the 'perpetual snows', but that's all changed in my lifetime. Most of it has disappeared in the last two or three years." (View of Isla de La Luna, as seen from Isla del Sol)

The Dutch family rejoined us in the hotel's restaurant while we were having dinner. They came in whooping and cheering. Their beloved team had beat Uruguay 3 - 2. They were moving on to the final game to vie for the World Cup. Only one problem though... the final match was to take place at the same time as the eclipse! They were totally conflicted about what to do: somehow find a place on Easter Island that would be open and showing the game, OR watch the eclipse and find a replay of the game online later and hope no one spoiled the outcome for them.

After dinner we were given the opportunity to visit a local witch doctor who spent some of his time living in the eco-village next door to the hotel. First we sat through a presentation about the importance of witch doctors and coca in Bolivian culture. Then we went over to his place and sat with him. Our visit started with him greeting us in his language, Aymara, which was then translated for us by Ivan. I have to say, the witch doctor was a real showman. As soon as Ivan finished translating, the witch doctor flicked his hand toward the fireplace near him and a giant ball of flame roared out.

Soon he began fielding questions from our group, and using coca leaves, do fortunetelling. The leaves have both light and dark sides. He'd flip about a dozen in the air one-at-a-time. Light side up was good, and dark side up not so good. Their position and coloring were used to read fortunes. Pretty cool experience to sit in on and watch. And that was how we ended our final night at Lake Titicaca. The following morning we'd be leaving the lake and the Alti-Plano behind.