Isla del Sol and Llama jerky

Bundling up with my newly purchased alpaca wool scarf and hat, the four of us (matt, erin, sumi, and myself) boarded the top row of our boat to head from Copacabana to Isla del Sol (Island of the Sun). The trip took us past tiny islands with scattered homes, through the sparkling blue waters of Lake Titicaca, and finally 2 hours later to the Isla del Sol. From what I have read and heard (not all to be believed since it came from the mouth of an 8year old boy who heard legends passed down from his elders), Isla del Sol is one of the most spiritual places for the Inca people. It was basically the birthplace of the Inca civilization, beginning with the birth of Manco Capac who was the son of Inti the Andean deity (who was the god of the sun). The island represents the birth of the sun and light, and it´s a place of pilgrimage. Now I can say I´ve been to two religious meccas in the past 2 months! We arrived at the island and were told we had to be back on the boat within an hour. One hour to explore the island´s gardens, fountain, and incan ruins was clearly not enough, but we made a dash for it and started climbling the steep incline of the island´s shore. This was the point in the trip when we all felt pretty bad about ourselves! We made all sorts of excuses about being at an altitude of 14,000 feet, and the difficulties our muscles were facing in trying to get oxygenated, but it was pretty embarrassing to see little kids running up and down the steps without even breathing heavily. Being born and raised a flatlander in Chicago imposes its limitations, and I may have to accept that I won´t be running any marathons in the Andes.

The ruins themselves were fairly underwhelming, and I apologize if that makes me sound like a travel snob. Something about the ruins didn´t seem ruinous- they looked a little bit too restored to transport my imagination back to the time of the Incans. They were beautiful nonetheless, and the best part was paying the little 8-year old 20 bolivianos to sneak us to the ruins before the boat took off without us, and then watching him run down the side of the mountain through potato gardens to stop the boat from leaving. It was money well spent, since he threw in a few history lessons about the island and saved us from missing our 1:30 bus back to La Paz. The bus ride back was gorgeous again, but the beauty was somewhat tainted by the many crosses on the side of the road and the dead cow being viciously consumed by vultures. The ominous images in the forefront, juxtaposed with the shining Andes in the background, left me with images forever engraved.

Back in La Paz, we found a hotel (right next door to Alcoholicos Anonimos) and we took off to explore the city. And by the way, somewhere in the midst of all of this we changed our flight to give us an extra day in La Paz. Walking past the Plaza San Francisco, past vendors selling meat carved directly off of pig heads (I know one or two of you that would just love this. head cheese is it called?) and past a beautiful 17th century church (gaudy of course to remind the peasants what they would find in paradise), we made our to way the Prado which is the main cosmopolitan paseo in La Paz. We had dinner at a place called ´Pronto Dalicatessen´, and the Dali theme resonated not only in the decor but in the dishes. I tried a dish called ´spaghetti evo,´made with a coca-infused sauced and sprinkled with llama meat (which tasted an awful lot like beef jerky). Our wine was a Bolivian wine made with grapes grown at very high altitude in the Andes. A perfect end to a great Andean day.