Day 7: Lake Titicaca, Bolivian Border

Hilarity all over today. border passing was two huts and fifty sheep bah-ing at you. was the only person on tour so the guide, the driver (and one dude whose job was to serve drinks) outnumbered me, but don`t worry kiddos, i was never safer. i had the whole bus to myself which seemed over the top, then we got to the lake and i realised i had the whole hydrofoil to myself too. aboard the guide blessed me in some flower water before presenting me with a certificate saying i was pure (pfft, i knew that) and then giving me a pisco drink. it`s still a bit hard to trek at this altitude, there`s only so little air. the guide consoles me by saying that the Argentine football team lost to Bolivia 6-1 because Maradona insisted on playing at the Bolivian altitude and his players were dead by half-time. we mourned a little bit over Australia`s exit in the world cup.

ventured out to the Sun and Moon islands, they used to be used by incans to house selected virgins where men were forbidden, of which the emperor would pick one (the others became miss congeniality prizes around the main town.) it was so isolated that later dictator commies used them as prisons. had lunch on those islands with no one else there. pristine and no plastic litter anywhere, felt like i had to whisper a la library mode. i suppose Mykonos and Santorni used to be like this, a place where i wanted to plant a flag and make up my own language.

the ducks here don`t have webbed feet and have a handicapped way of swimming about. they chase the hydrofoils, "they think it a female," says the guide. they use their feet to sprint across the water attempting to mate with the vessel and flap their wings in ways some people do when trying to catch a bus that`s already gone. glad no one else was on the hydrofoil because i snorted a few times.

guide was a ball. he made fun of Bolivia itself ("the red in the flag symbolises our battles, we have never won any. we used to have access to the sea but enjoyed losing so much we give to the Chile, now we only have this lake and a love of losing") as well as poking fun at other tourists, especially those who were feet-paddling giant swans, and we had an extended discussion on socialism (it`s like a dream holiday). he gives me a tip of some cactus and tells me that local women use them to numb pain, and one mouthful is enough to see things. saving it for when i`m back at the hotel since the place was too beautiful to have me hallucinating upon. will let you know how the magic cacti went (or do i alliterate its name and call it Crazy Cacti?)