kellita the señorita the ibby dibby dow: From Bolivia to Peru With Irrational Anger

My last few days at the lake were incredible. After a few solo hikes, I met the acquaintance of my new buddy Fede, and we hit up Isla del Sol together. We took the 8:30am ferry in a dreary rain, dozing off, drinking mate and talking about Argentina. We arrived to the island just as the sun came out and warmed up the day. We stopped in a restaurant to refill the thermos (you really don't understand the importance of hot water and always finding a way to get it in any situation until you spend significant time traveling with Argentines), grabbed some sandwiches and headed out. The island is covered in Incan ruins, and got its name because the Incas believed the sun god was born there. We took the boat to the north and spent the day walking to the south before taking the boat back to Copacabana. I awoke from a good nap to an Argentine asado and music circle at the hostel. Great way to end a great day.

horca del inca (observatorio) - atardecer

mirando atardecer

Isla del Sol

Sacando energía de la Roca Segrada

La Mesa de los Sacrificios

laberinto

vistas con llamas

amistad

perfección

asado argentino

música

Fede and I hopped on the bus Tuesday afternoon, and when we first arrived in Peru I hated it.

Mind you, it had nothing to do with the country itself, its people, customs, culture, language, or anything like that. My hate stemmed from somewhat irrational anger that kept mounting during the 12-hour journey from Copacabana to Cusco. Luckily, it has since disappeared.

I don't have high expectations of bus travel in Bolivia. I know it's not going to be as luxurious as it was in Argentina. So, ok. It's going to be a shitty bus. No big deal.

Buying a bus ticket in Copacabana stressed me out. There are literally close to 100 different tour companies selling tickets within a 10-block radius. You eventually realize that like the souvenir stalls, everything is pretty much the same.If t he bus is shitty the bus is shitty. If that's the only option, I'm still going to buy the bus ticket. The man who sold me mine assured me that I was paying for a bus with semi-cama seating, air conditioning, and a bathroom.

We get on a bus that's older than Lily Wauters, who was the oldest person to have a total hip replacement at 101 years and 196 days (reported in 1997) to find that not only is there no bathroom, but the bus doesn't even come equipped with AC, and the leg room was comparable to that of what I imagine was the leg room of Urkel's small automobile on Family Matters. I don't like it when people lie to me. The seats and AC I don't mind so much, but 12 hours on a bus with no bathroom is hard for me. Even if I don't drink anything.

But these things happen, and you have to go with it. And mostly I'm good at that, but for whatever reason this day my chill skills were lacking. And I sat most of the ride with my arms folded and upper lip out like a 4-year-old child in a temper tantrum swearing to Fede in Spanish. Cool, Kelly. When we arrived in Puno to change buses my anger escalated to a higher level when we were left to stand for quite sometime to wait for our new bus. Thing was that we had given our tickets to the first bus driver, and had no way to prove we had continuing passage to Cuzco. Thinking we were getting scammed, we chatted with the porter who assured us the semi-cama bus was coming. I went inside to use the bathroom which had a price tag of $.50 Soles. I only had Bolivianos as I forgot to change money when we crossed the border, and the woman wouldn't let me pass. I tried to change the money but ran into several more problems and left the terminal basically with steam coming out my ears. Fede was waiting with the good news that our bus had arrived and all was well. This suited me because I could just use the bathroom on the bus. But you know what? The bathroom on the bus was out of service and the driver told me I would have to sit for 8 hours without a bathroom. But wait, we were told the journey was only 5 hours. More steam.

So I exited the bus with $.50 Bolivianos to attempt the bathroom again. I changed it into $.30 Soles, and decided to beg the woman to let me pass. She let me go for 30 cents without toilet paper. So I was feeling relieved physically and my anger levels were down. Then as I tried to leave the terminal a woman stopped me to tell me I needed to pay the Puno exit tax. Really? I tried to explain that I was just going to the bathroom, didn't have money, etc etc, when she grabbed my arm and told me there was no exception, that I had to pay. And I lost it. I removed my arm from her firm grasp and told her that I wouldn't pay the tax even if the police came after me. Like 50 cents was worth getting arrested for. I rushed past her and jumped on the bus as it was pulling out of the station. I am so mature sometimes it's unbelievable.

I made it to Cuzco and to Karina's house and felt safe and sane again. And wouldn't you know it, the next day I ran into my friend Jos on the street and we got to spend the day catching up and exploring the great city of Cuzco (which I love by the way). Yay for small world encounters!