Month: September 2007

22 Sep – hungover.  Again.  Of course.  And still rather drunk, and very very sleep deprived.  So, we go to breakfast.  Much grumpiness by the two worst affected people – Ben & myself – which ’spills’ over into nastiness.  I pull the old trick of unscrewing the salt cap to the point where it looks like it’s on, but is not.  I think I’m doing it in plain sight of Ben.  Turns out, not.  Ben pours an entire shaker of salt onto his chips.  I can’t help but laugh – while trying to explain/apologise.  But he’s grumpy.  Then I get grumpy.  Then it gets worse, and Ben goes to sulk outside.  And I stay inside, still unable to hold my tongue.  Piss off Pen next, then finally manage to stick to my promise of holding my tongue to myself.

Next, Pen & I head to bus company office.  Ben is being an internet nerd.  Again.  Pen & I have to stop for a rest halfway.  A rest turns into Kruse throwing up into a rubbish bin.  Not feeling too well this morning, apparently.  Eventually we manage to get to the bus company office.  It’s closed.  We sit outside for an hour or two.  It’s siesta time, you see.  Eventually I go look for something to drink.  Find a hostel with beer.  Hope that beer will make me feel better.  Big gamble – but it pays off.  Manage to buy tickets, then head back towards Ben.  Find a small market on the way.  Fireworks.  96% alcohol.  Same shop.  Sold.  Kill time for a while with internet.  Let off one firework outside on the way to bus station.  Don’t touch the transparent killer booze.  Stop off at the pub from last night, to get a photo of our entry in their guest book.  Add a little to it.  Apologise to the owner, who doesn’t seem sure why.  And agree to one drink, to sooth my guilt a little.  He suggest the “I Don’t Remember”.  A special teapot type contraption.  7 shots of spirits in seperate containers, which gradually empty into the centre compartment which is filled with beer.  I gulp it down as quick as possible, as it’s nearly time for the bus to leave.  Possibly not the smartest idea.  But, it’s done, and then I hurry to the bus station.  Get on bus.  Rather comfortable bus, but possibly the most uncomfortable sleep I’ve had yet.  Get up to throw up into the toilet one time during the night.

So, get to La Paz on the morning of the 23 Sep, still feeling like crap.   Go back to the tried and true hostel.  Use their free internet to try and find a place I’d heard rumours of with a swimming pool.  But – no luck.  So check back in.  Then, I discover that the All Blacks game against Scotland is this morning.  And we’re wanting some food.  So, off to La Paz’s self-described “100% Fake English Pub”.  Don’t like the sound of it, but it’s the best bet for rugby.  And sure enough – it delivers.  A little late.  And with a very talkative american co-owner.  But good enough.  Until a little chap with a very high-pitched annoying voice sits directly behind us.  Very annoying.  Even before he starts talking about the haka to his friends.  I don’t think he made a single correct comment.  And then onto the weaknesses of the All Blacks.  After not long, I’m fuming.  His voice is not only annoying, and speaking nonsense – but is extremely loud.  I mutter under my breath for some time, but Ben is the first to crack.  The irish guy (turns out he’s irish) had said something about the All Blacks not having a chance to win the world cup, because of their weak defence.  Ben turns around to point out that their is a zero next to scotland on the board.  Then it’s all on.  I finally get dragged in to ask the guy if he’s talking to Ben, or the people at the opposite end of the bar.  My voice trembling with suppressed rage.  It wouldn’t have been so bad if he’d been talking nonsense to his friends at an appropriate level.  But he obviously intended everybody in the bar to hear his private conversation.  And there was an irish couple seated near us, who obviously were now cringing – ashamed of this chap.  And without talking to them, they’d seemed nice.  We talked to them afterwards, and they were indeed nice, and indeed were cringing about the little leprechaun.  Ahhh.. the leprechaun.  Several phrases which he used repeatedly (and by repeatedly, I mean over 10 times each):  ”I saw the game against Italy, and they really showed up the NZ centre defence” , “If they’re struggling to put Scotland away, there’s no way they can go much further” , “Scotland, I mean no offence (to his socttish friend), but they’re the whipping boys of the 6 Nations now” , “As soon as you face Australia or South Africa, they’re going to mop the floor with you”.  And yes, we did use certain facts to try to stop him from repeating himself.  The scores of the games against Italy & Scotland, for example.  And the result of the Tri-Nations.  But still, he’d just keep going.  Eventually I went and sat elsewhere.  I returned later, and Ben had managed to calm him down somehow, and they were discussing rugby in a normal tone, and it seemed to be rather more rational.  Pen & I chatted with his friends, who were much more restrained.

After a while, and getting the american guy to make bloody marys for the bar – by individually peeling, squashing, and filtering tomatoes – Pen remembered it was Sunday.  And therefore, the wrestling was on.  So off we went.  Figured out how to get there, and went there.  Taxi to the satellite city of La Paz – and queued up for tickets.  Ladies wrestling, is what it’s advertised as.  We’re forced to buy a “Tourist Ticket” – which is about 10 times the price of locals.  But they show us a pre-printed blurb to explain why – and please don’t argue.  It kind of makes sense, but obviously lies.  ”Protect the local atmosphere”.  Then, when we get inside, all the tourists are on plastic chairs right by ringside.  But, we get two free toilet passes – a free snack – and a souvenir.  Toilet passes – turns out there are 5 toilet stalls.  One with a sign on the door saying “Tourist Toilet”.  The girl at the toilet entrance unlocks the padlock on it when we want to use it.  Hmmm.  Free snack – not bad, a drink and a choice of chips or popcorn.  Souvenir – a tiny tiny little figurine of a woman.  Not a woman wrestler.  Just a local woman holding something.  Maybe a watermelon?  Too small to really tell.

But then, the wrestling.  Turns out to be normal pro-wrestling – mostly guys.  A couple of girls involved at the end.  But all in all, pretty cool.  There was a group of koreans(?) sitting near us.  One of the bad guys (dressed in military fatigues) came out, and teased the korean tourists with the old ”slant-eye” gesture.  Helping the tourists figure out the good guys from bad, I guess.  Not that hard anyway – the ref always hugged the bad guy when he got in.  The same ref for every match.  Bad guy.  At one point I stood up to threaten him, and security rushed in to make me sit down.  Thought the gringo couldn’t tell fact from fiction.  After not long, the crowd was throwing stuff at the contestants.  Fruit, empty plastic bottles, etc.  Anything.  Children running through the protective barriers to recover ammo.  I got my hand slapped by one wrestler.  Pretty happy.  Then, near the end, the fireworks started.  Not literally – unfortunately.  Wish I’d taken some though.  But, they started throwing each other over the protective barriers – into the crowd.  And of course, the crowd next to the barrier is all tourists.  The koreans took a couple of serious poundings.  Guys fully thrown over, and landing in their laps.  People and chairs flying everywhere.  Awesome.  The second time – about 8 people went flying, including the guy right next to me.  I was just on the right side of the border between amused spectators, and dazed unwilling participants.  I think that may have been one of the ladies that was thrown, actually.  Anyway – all in all a good night.  Rather tired by the end of it.

24 Sep – get up and figure we need to do some useful stuff.  First on the list – making sure Ben can actually stay a bit longer than originally intended.  He’s got agreement from work – so now we just need to see if he can actually change his flights.  So – off to see the airline.  Airline is closed for siesta.  We wander around a bit.  Back to airline.  Ben gets told there are no seats available for any appropriate days.  Dumb.  Do some shopping on the way back.  None of the jerseys fit me very well.  Which is a shame, because there were some spectacular ones.  Pen breaks a mirror.  Then, buy bus tickets to Lima for tomorrow morning (a 26 hour journey) and back to the hostel.  Ben confirms there are actually seats available – and we head all the way back to the airline.  It’s closed.  Dinner, then back to hostel.  Much walking today.  So, I brew up some coca tea.  I’ve discovered that if one chops up coca leaves, and drinks them through the yerba mate equipment – one gets a very odd feeling.  Rather hyperactive.  Then – somebody puts a DVD on.  The Transformers.  Sweet.  Ben rushes down, followed by Pen, and we watch Transformers, with coca tea and cerveza.  After this, Ben & I are wide awake – so we then put on The Simpsons.  Pen goes to bed.  2am or so – we’re asked to finish up.  Sure.  Have to be up at 7 anyway.

7am, 25 Sep.   We struggle up.  Not feeling the best.  Catch a taxi to the bus terminal, with the french guy whose DVD player and discs we watched last night.  Onto the bus.  Which is a van.  Drive to the Peruvian border – then we do Bolivia migration, walk across a small wooden bridge, to Peru migration – and then find our bus company.  Luggage has been dropped off – and we now apparently wait for an actual bus.  Got an hour to kill – so wander around the town.  Lots of street stalls selling DVDs.  Including Terminator 4, and Apocolypto 2 & 3.  For those of you who don’t know – these technically don’t exist.  To my knowledge, although perhaps they have come out since I’ve been away?  I doubt it.  I’ve been looking for Die Hard 5.  Back to bus company – and all our stuff and fellow passengers have gone.  Go to look for them, and succeed.  Yay.  Then, wait around while they clean the outside of the bus.  Onto the bus.  Pen & I have 2 of the Death Seats.  2nd floor, right up the front.  Most likely to die in case of an accident.  Sweet.  Comfortable though, as we can put our feet up on the window; and a good view of oncoming traffic – which sometimes isn’t such a good thing, as bus drivers here love to overtake.  Movies start to be played.  Some DVDs work, some don’t.  But – there’s a constant stream of them.  Constant.  Eventually, sometime after dinner is served, they stop.

26 Sep – more DVDs.   Breakfast.  Then, finally, Lima.  Pushy taxi drivers first thing in the morning after a 26 hour bus ride is not a good thing.  It only took the first guy two attempts at asking if I wanted a taxi before I lost the pleasant tone to my voice.  Didn’t quite snap, but was pretty close to.  But, eventually, we got ourselves together, and got a taxi.  Took us to a taxi he obviously gets a commission from – but then talked down the price for us.  So – we’ve got a place to stay.  And tired.  But – need to get Ben’s goddamn flight home sorted.  So, we have lunch, then find the airline office.  Busy.  With half the staff at lunch.  Ben takes a ticket.  Pen & I find the bar of a 5-star hotel, and have some drinks.  I drink reasonably priced beer, Pen drinks champagne cocktails.  The toilet has a huge bottle of listerine, with a pump lid.  I take full advantage.  Eventually Ben comes out.  Reckons it’s gonna cost a ludicruous amount of money to change his flights.  Dumb.  We head back to the hostel.  Pen & I find a supermarket.  Buy blue cheese, wine, and beer.  A man approaches me in the supermarket, trying to sell me marijuana and/or cocaine.  I find the concept of buying cocaine in a supermarket amusing, but decline the nice man.  I wonder what would he do if I insisted on taking it to the check-out girl for a price check?  Back to the hostel, and we sit outside with some pleasant beverages, and cheese.  Then, we head back towards supermarket.  Stop at travel agency – and buy luxury bus tickets to the northern border for tomorrow afternoon.  Ben & Pen return to the supermarket.  I return to the hostel, and wait for them.  They eventually return, laden with ridiculous foodstuffs.  Blue cheese.  Soft cheese.  Hard cheese.  Bread.  Vienetta icecream.  Artichokes.  Palm hearts.  Foie gras.  Sparkling wine.  Red wine.  I don’t know what else.  But we eat it.

27 Sep – sleep in a fair bit, and then spend a while at the breakfast table finishing leftovers from last night.  Eventually we leave.  Taxi to the bus station – and drop off our stuff.  Then, taxi to the centre of Lima.  Spot the famous Lima traffic jams on the way.  Not much time to do the main sights – but we’ll give it a go.  Marvel at the central square (is pretty cool) while rushing past it.  First – the Museum of the Inquisition.  Based in the base of the Spanish Inquisition for all of South America.  Not as big or impressive as I’d expected, but not bad.  A couple of lifesize models being tortured.  A large jury/parliament type room.  Where each desk has a Philips brand speaker with electronic voting device included.  The spanish inquisition was far ahead of it’s time.  And that’s about it.  Then – on to the San Francisco Monastery.  This had tickled my attention buds when I’d happened to read a line regarding the discovery of the catacombs.  In which there is the bones of 70,000 people.  Only discovered in 1951, they reckon.  So, we went there.  Very little time left.  Only option to see it is a guided tour.  We join a spanish language tour.  Cursing everytime somebody asks a question.  Nice library though.  And a couple of nice altars and churchy stuff and what-not.  Very nice in fact.  Catacombs are the last top.  Very very short on time now.  Into the catacombs.  Bones.  Lots and lots of bones, everywhere.  Ben and I sneak off down side passages, and find more bones.  Pits of bones.  Shelves of bones.  Rooms where each type of bone has been put into it’s own compartment.  So many bones.  But, eventually we run out of time.  The tour group has done a full circle of the catacombs – and the guide is about to show everybody a side passage which Ben & I had already sneaked down.  We take our leave, and scarper.  Find a taxi – and we’re off.  Taxi seems to take a different way back.  Seems to be heading further and further off track, into some less than busy looking streets.  I get a little nervous, but think we’re still going in vaguely the right direction.  Make sure that Ben is sitting behind the driver – so that in trouble we can both grab him.  Then Ben & Pen ask me if we’re going in the right direction also.  We wait a little longer – but I’m ready to try to drive the car from the passenger side after telling Ben to grab the driver from behind.  Then – tow truck, backing sports car into garage, blocks road.  Completely stops, while they offload the car.  We’re certainly past the time we’re supposed to be at the terminal – but with some time to spare until the bus actually leaves.  Tow truck takes it’s time.  Then, the truck won’t restart.  Nervous laughter.  Eventually, it moves.  And we get to the bus station without being kidnapped, and with the bus still there.  Yay.  We get on the bus.  But my can of beer is confiscated.  Dumb.  Take our seats.  We’ve put Ben right up the front, in a Death Seat – and Pen&I right down the back.  More movies.  Dinner.

Next update, we play bingo on the bus.  Also, cross the border into Ecuador, and hopefully get rid of Ben.

I’ve got a plastic bag next to my legs containing a one litre bottle of 96% ‘drinkable’ alcohol, and a dozen pieces of fireworks.  So I’m going to rush things a bit.

18 Sep – we went shopping.  Ben & I bought a suit each, while Pen sat playing with the young boy who liked to throw his food on the floor and sneak peeks at the big gringos trying on trousers.  We bought suits.  And ties.  Paisley ties, Moscow 1980 Olympics ties, and others.  Then Ben does his nerd thing for ages.  I buy more ties.  Big strong bear tie.  Big wide stripey tie.  Then we sit around.  Meet arsetralian Pete again.   From Rio.  Ran into him in Copocabana, and then he enters our hostel.  He has a girlfriend now, and doesn’t seem to want to play chess against Kruse so much anymore.  Fair enough – I wasted him last time.  And girlfriends are better than chess.

Anyway, we went to the bus station to get on our bus.  After a while, a lady leads us and other gringos to the bus.  Out of the bus station.  Along the road.  Across the road.  Along another road.  Reasonably long walk – enough to make the gringos start laughing nervously.  Eventually, we find a bus parked on the side of the motorway.  Then, we wait while locals load huge sacks of something onto the bus.  Ben feels not so good.  Ben is a hom.  One hour later – we get onto the bus.  Then we leave.  Finally.  Pen & Ben find it uncomfortable.  Fair enough, I guess.  Lingering smell of faeces (from when we were waiting – concrete canal of something which smelled suspicious).

19 Sep – we arrive in Uyuni a little late.  But early enough to get our stuff, go to tour agency and confirm we actually have a tour, and then breakfast.  I don’t get my eggs.  I like eggs, but he didn’t give them to me.  Dumb.  Then, into the landcruiser.  We have one arsetralian couple, and one israeli.  His name is weird, so I decide to call him Jude.  Short for judaism.  Our driver/guide is called Oscar.  We drive places.  Train cemetery.  Group of kiwis thinking they’re funny wearing cowboy hats and bandannas.  Ben & Kruse actually being funny wearing suit with tie.  Then, small town where they process the salt.  Buy trinkets – cup & dice made of salt.  Then, we get to the salt flat proper.  Salt flat is cool.  Big.  White.  Flat.  Salt.  Take a few inappropriate photos, then go on.  Stop again, more photos.  Don’t take advantage of the lack of perspective for cheesy photos.  Do take advantage of the large amount of white powder for cheesy photos.  More driving.  Salt hotel.  Hotel made of salt.  Have a beer.  Paddle in their pool, wearing suit.  Lick the wall.  Drive on – nearly leaving Penelope behind.  Not quite.  Oh well, maybe next time.  Island in the middle of the white.  Cactus which is 1200 years old.  German girl in bikini pretending to hug cactus.  Ben & Kruse in suits.  Lunchtime – we buy lots of cerveza.  Give Oscar one.  We kind of set the precedent regarding booze.  Drive on.  Another salt hotel.  Have a nice cuppa tea, and nearly watch sunset.  Drink whisky.  Drink beer.  Drink wine.  Teach israel & arsetralia the chinese dice game.  Drink more.  Eventually – bedtime.

20 Sep – up at 5:30.  Quick breakfast.  I eat nada, as hangover and dry bread do not mix well.  Into landcruiser.  Oscar drives us onto the salt, and we watch the sunrise.  Cool.  Then – onwards.  Us and arsetralians played the “What’s your favourite song about …?” game.  Good game.  It quickly turned into “Name every song you can think of about …?”  Better game.  Then we went to a pre-incan cemetery.  Mummies in rock holes.  One had a hat on.  One had his skull sitting next to his pelvis & spine.  Then we drove some more.  Saw some pink flamingos.  I scared them all away so that people had to walk to other places to take photos.  Then we drove some more.  Oscar drives good.  Another lake.  More pink flamingos.  And some white ones.  Lunch – and a very expensive (relatively) bottle of wine.  More driving.  Saw a big stone that looks like a tree.  It’s called the stone tree.  Inappropriate photos.  Or appropriate photos.  Depends on your perspective, I guess.  More lakes.  More flamingos.  Then a red lake.  Lake – very red.  Very pretty.  Then to a tiny settlement in the middle of the desert – and negotiate a room.  Arsetralians and kiwis are worried for a while.  No bar in evidence.  Kruse does the legwork, and finds one.  Buy cerveza.  Drink cerveza.  Discuss marrying a llama.  Buy more cerveza.  Drink it.  Kruse goes back, buys ALL the cerveza.  And a bottle of wine.  Rather cold by now.  Very very cold.  Drink the cerveza sitting around the fire.  Put balaclavas on.  Scare swiss girls in next room.  Ha.  Off to bed late and drunk, after being told we’re leaving at 4am.

21 Sep – I wake up to daylight.  Figure the whole 4am thing hasn’t gone too well.  The israeli is full of panic.  Tries to wake up Oscar.  Lady tells him to let Oscar sleep.  I want to tell him to let Kruse sleep – but I’m just too damned nice.  Eventually we all get up.  Nearly every other landcruiser is gone.  Three left.  Two with two flat tyres.  Including ours.  The raucous noise from the guide’s hut/quarter starts to make sense.  I notice many empty beer cans there.  Either drunken joke, or malicious anti-our-company – but either way Oscar is looking dishevelled, and we have two flat tyres.  And Oscar seems to have a bruise under his eye.  So – tyres re-inflated, and we’re off.  Oscar is rather obviously still drunk.  Some rather fast driving – but Ben & myself are happy – as we’re hoping to find out, and catch, whoever punched our Oscar.  Oscar does have several conversations with people we meet at various scenic points.  Nothing which seems like accusations though – so no biffo.  We see some lakes.  Green lake is my least favourite.  Geysers.  I don’t like geysers.  Then, a hole with steam coming out.  We have a genuine flat tyre.  I help Oscar change the tyre, and also play with the steamhole.  Throw rocks into it, and watch them fly up.  Find some snow – throw that in.  Snow is cold.  Very very cold at 5200m above sea level.  I roll the flat tyre over the steam hole.  Sweet.  More driving.  More lakes.  Llamas.  Start drinking whisky.  And playing the “Speights beer cap trivia game”.  Didn’t have speights.  Did have a bottle of whisky.  You figure it out.  Then we saw some big rocks.  I climbed a big rock.  More landcruiser.  More speights-beer-cap-game.  Finished the whisky.  Onto the bottle of wine bought last night.  Then, another flat tyre.  About 200 metres from the outskirts of Uyuni township.  Borrow a tyre from another landcruiser driving past.  Back home.  Sweet.

Then – try to get bus to La Paz.  But they’re all full.  So – decision made… a night in Uyuni.  Pizza for dinner, video camera filming band also seems to like us.  We act appropriately.  Or inappropriately – depends on your point of view, I guess.  Find a hostel.  Drop stuff of.  Drop Pen off.  Ben & Kruse go for a walk.  Pass on the gringo bar despite it advertising “No chickens”.  Drink at a restaurant next to a table of teenage german girls.  Talk serious stuff.  Growing old, marriage, children, wishing we were single so we could  do more than be looked at by 6 teenage german girls.  Restaurant closes.  We eventually settle for the “no chickens” gringo bar.  Order drinks.  Find a big scrapbook – inviting us to write which “extreme drinks you drank”.  No entry is too impressive, other than the entire page of unintelligible drunken scribbling.  We decide something needs to be done.  So we drink the bar.  If anybody has ever seen Ben and myself attempt to “drink the bar” – you’ll know what we did.  And we succeeded this time.  Then a little peroxide-blonde english chap tried to talk to us.  Bad idea.  Ben started picking a fight.  I was in full “Sorry about my mate, he’s a dick and drunk” mode.  But occasionally lapsed into “being Ben” mode.  Eventually little blonde pom and his friends invited us out onto the street to “talk about this some more”.  We agreed.  Then drank their beer while they waited outside.  I’m a lover, not a fighter.  Or maybe a drinker.  Ben being extremely smashed, and bar staff not being too keen on us anymore (used to be keen.  Given free drink out of a clay vessel in the shape of a female body – with a hole to drink from in a most inappropriate/appropriate location)  – we left.  Not too sure what happened after that.  Vague memories and blurry photos of Ben lying on the ground after falling over a knee-high fence in a park somewhere.  A little bit of climbing onto roofs.  Perhaps some breaking into the supper room of an expensive hotel.  Eventually got back to our hostel, after lock-down time.  Tried to break in, perhaps?  Got let in, I think.  Woke up Penelope with “not too sure if the police are after us”. 

And that’s the salt flats.  Highest salt flat IN THE WORLD.  Biggest salt flat IN THE WORLD.  Ten billion tons of salt.  Now is time for me to think of what to do with 96% alcohol and a box of fireworks.  Then bus back to La Paz tonight.

14 Sep – picked up early again from the hotel.  I don’t like being picked up early – as it means waking up early first.  In this case, however, we weren’t really early enough.  Well – somebody wasn’t.  We get to the bus station for our bus to Copacabana – and discover that our tickets are for the bus that has already left.  Honest mistake this time – somebody just booked tickets on the wrong bus.  Dumb.  However, the girl with us lacks initiative, and just stands there for a very long time looking dumb.  Eventually, we buy tickets for the next bus ourselves, and head off.  Get to Copacabana – and have lunch.  Pen & Ben sit around doing Pen & Ben, while hard-working trustworthy hero Kruse goes researching stuff.  A real asset is old Kruse.  Found a cheap hostel – and we drop off most of our stuff there before getting on a ferry to the Isla del Sol.  The Sun Island.  Birthplace of the sun and the moon and all sorts of things.  Ferry is dangerously overloaded – and I watch Pen fall asleep on the rooftop seat with a very low back nearly protecting her from toppling backwards into the lake.  Then, the english couple next to us mention that they’d heard that anybody who is lost overboard – there is no attempt to rescue them.  Most locals view it as an offering to the lake.  Sweet.  I spend the rest of the trip imagining scenarios in my mind of how we would save Pen’s life.  Also – power lines crossing the decently sized channel between mainland and island.  Big long drooping power lines.  Ben & I simultaneously see the potential for an awesome flying fox.  We get to the village on the southern end of the island.  Climb up lots of stairs.  I walked fast, coz I’m a very fast walker.  We kept climbing up and up and up, although we weren’t really sure if it was the way.  Then, instead of buying a thing from tout, I got directions instead.  Then, stopped for a beer, and asked for more directions.  Then we got to the top of the hill.  Took some photos, because the view was pretty.  Then noticed that the track didn’t seem to exist anymore.  So we headed in a general direction.  Ben climbed a hill.  Told us to go one way.  We kind of did, but not quite.  We were off the beaten track.  Then an old man chased us, and caught us.  Friendly enough, but turned out we were supposed to be on the main road – and were supposed to buy a ticket off the nice old man for the northern half of the island.  So we did, and then Ben found us too.  And we got back on the boring actual trail.  Having lost lots of time.  On a trail which people were surprised we were doing at that time – as it should be too late to do so without getting trapped in the middle of nowhere in the dark.  Oh well.  Meet a sheep herder – he recommends a hostel.  Then we find the temple of the sun.  I’d like to watch the sunset from the temple of the sun – but it turns out there’s a big ugly hill between the temple of the sun and the sun.  Bad planning, incan-people.  We have a quick look around.  Can’t see any rock that looks like a puma.  Or any rock that looks like it was used as a table to create the sun and the moon.  There was one – but it seemed a bit small.  Maybe the big creator god fella made little ones then pumped them up into bigger ones.  Maybe.  Then we walked to the northern village.  I was walking slow now, because there was nobody behind us to find Pen if she rolled an ankle or something.  So I walked slow.  Ben walked fast.  Then it got dark.  We met a farmer in a field who recommended a hostel.  Then we got to the village, and let a small boy lead us to a hostel.  It was more expensive than we expected, and even more than the boy had told us – but we took it because we couldn’t be bothered argueing or searching for an alternative.  And it was still about 6 NZ$ each.  I took my smelly shoes off, and hid them under the head-end of Ben’s bed.  Upstairs, we had dinner.  The waitress seemed genuinely slightly mentally retarded.  Perhaps that’s why she liked me so much.  Leaned far too close/over me while taking my order.  We didn’t order much, because we figured we may barely have enough money to eat, and get back to the mainland.  Then, clever old Kruse asks the non-retarded employee whether we can pay with US dollars.  I hated asking this – but the affirmative answer meant we could order lots.  So we did.  Then Ben & Pen teased me about the retarded waitress sneaking into the room later and doing nasty things to poor old Kruse.  I got scared.  Then we went back to our room – and I checked the lock on the door.  But Ben reminded me about ‘tard cunning’, and I figured the staff probably had a spare key.  I got more scared.  But then I remembered my shoes under Ben’s bed, and I cheered up.

We got up on the 15 Sep – with no untoward events having happened overnight.  Sweet.  Up, and about.  Hardworking old Kruse once again goes out and about to research useful stuff, while Ben & Pen do useless things like showers and stuff.  One guy wants to charge us lots for a private boat to Isla del Luna (Island of the Moon).  Eventually, Ben & Pen are ready to leave also.  So we do.  Soon figure out that only way to Isla del Luna seems to be private boat.  Chap again tries to sell ride to us.  We don’t have enough cash.  Try to join in with another group – but the captain doesn’t want to offend the other chap by stealing his business.  So, eventually, we figure we can pay with combo of US dollars and bolivianos.  And this we do.  And we get on a small boat, and off we go.  Long ride to Isla del Luna.  Forty minutes there.  Nice enough Temple of the Virgins.  Then, back on to the boat, and another long ride back to Copacabana.  Again admire the flying fox possibilities.  Get back to the mainland, and check into the hostel.  Nice and cheap and separate rooms – for the first time since Ben arrived.  Then, we go walkabout.  Kruse again was the hero by going to do useful stuff.  Found a place that would give me money.  Then, lunch.  Then, beers on the waterfront.  Meant to go for a ride in the pedal-swans – but didn’t get around to it.  Watched the sunset though – and it was pretty.  Then, went to a restaurant.  I ordered drinks.  2 each of 7 cocktails.  And a red wine came with Pen’s meal for her.  We only got 6 of the cocktails – but they were enough for the meantime.  I walked Pen home, then returned to finish the drinks with Ben.  We chatted with a pair of people at the next table.  Bolivians with chinese heritage.  Chino-Bolivians, as it were.  17 year old boy, and his 25 year old cousin.  We played the question game.  (Truth or Dare – but with only the Truth option).  Going round in a circle, each person allowed to ask any question to anybody, and the truth must be told.  It only took one round before the inevitable.  I didn’t notice at the time, but the next time Ben pointed out that the 17 year old boy asked a large number of homosexually oriented questions towards me.  That may be because I had brain damage.  The toilet doorway was slightly lower than it should be.  I hit my head on the doorway at least five times.  Plus lots of cocktails.  Ben answered one question with the number “2″.  I found the answer so amusing that I wrote it on my hand.  Unfortunately, neither of us can remember what the question was.  Apparently, we couldn’t remember five minutes after the fact.  I have resolved to keep the number “2″ on my hand until I recall.  After the restaurant/bar turned it’s lights off on us, we finally left.  Back home – struggling to open front gate, and all the other things that go with arriving home late rather intoxicated.

So, rather hungover for the 16 Sep.  Pack our stuff, and head to breakfast.  Ben wants me to wear my New Zealand t-shirt which is exactly the same as his – so we can match, but I refuse on the grounds that it is gay.  Much breakfast, then go and get on a bus.  A minibus.  We sit at the back.  After a while, I swap seats with Ben.  So I can sit next to the window.  Then, I throw up out the window.  I feel a lot better after this.  After that, we have to get off the bus – while it is ferried across an inlet of the lake on a very basic ferry.  We get on a motorboat to take us across.  I have a beer, because I feel lots better now.  Ben doesn’t, because he is a prude.  Back onto the bus, and a few hours more until La Paz.  I make friends with a young girl sitting further up the bus.  We play peek-a-boo.  Luckily she’s too far away to smell me.  Near La Paz – the bus stops.  Our bags are on the roof.  I see somebody take them off.  I panic.  I run to the front, and try to get out.  Door is locked.  Pen watches out window – and thinks that they’ve been put in the ‘boot’ luggage compartment.  It has been raining a little, so it makes sense.  We drive off again, and I can’t see anybody running away with our bags – so hope that all is well.  We get to La Paz – and confirm that we still have all our stuff.  Sweet.  Walk to the hostel I stayed at last time – and get accommodation.  Then, walked through the Witches Market, and had a late lunch.  I had a beer, but Ben didn’t – because he is a prude.  Then Ben returned to the hostel because he is an internet nerd.  Pen & I went for a walk to buy chocolate for Pen and gay camomile tea for Ben and a bottle of whisky for Kruse.  Spend the evening in the hostel common room.  Booooooring.

17 Sep – we start panicing about how much time we have, and how to fit things into a schedule.  Around rugby world cup fixtures, of course.  Ben spends all day on the internet – because he is an internet nerd.  Pen & I go walking and shopping and stuff.  Find the market.  The largest market IN THE WORLD!  Thirty city blocks, they reckon.  Find bottles with labels which translate to “Drinkable alcohol – 96%”.  I shudder, and we walk on.  Walk past a reasonably aged child, standing casually on the sidewalk urinating onto the street.  Busy sidewalk, busy street.  Fair enough.  We walk on.  I find fireworks.  Strings of double-happys.  Big big single solid units of fireworks.  Awesome.  Pen won’t let me buy them.  We walk on.  Big market, lots of stuff.  Shoes called Kevin – not big enough for Pen’s giant man-feet.  We walk on.  Lunch, then return to hostel.  Ben is still on the internet.  He is a nerd.  Pen & I go for another walk.  Bus station – and do some research.  Past a man urinating on the wall.  We walk on.  Back to centre of the city.  Walk past a small local-type bar.  I have a hankering for a cerveza.  Pen won’t let me go in.  We walk on.  Then some shopping for trinkets.  And back to hostel.  Ben is still on internet.  Nerd.  I finally convince Ben that if he was to quit his job, or at least get an extra 10 days off work – it makes things much much easier.  He emails to ask.  We then take the more expensive but much easier option of booking a tour to the salt flats through our hostel.  Then – off to dinner.  Get loads of cash out, and head towards an awful gringo bar.  Because Ben is an awful gringo nerd.  Luckily, it’s closed.  So, instead, we head to an awful gringo curry restaurant owned by the same people.  We sit and drink and eat.  A mix up with ordering results in three bowls of rice, and no garlic naan.  Pen knew about the mix-up, but didn’t tell us.  Sometimes she is a real liability.  After a while, a couple of irish folk walk through the door.  They turn out to be the same irish folk as on our Inca Trail group.  They join us, and we chit chat.  Lots of complaining about some guys who’d done the mountain bykling down the most dangerous road IN THE WORLD with them.  Apparently lots of “RADICAL!” and “WICKED!” and similar comments.  We laugh and mock them together.  Mocking other people is fun.  Then, we return to the hostel.  Drink whiskey, and all three of us use internet together.  Romantic like.