Whirwhind Weekend

Written Monday, July 11th
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When you live in the country with the "highest navigable lake in the world," that surrounds the island where the Incans think the world began, and you can make a weekend trip happen for under $150, you have to go.
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On Friday, I joined thirteen other students from the Institute for a weekend adventure to La Paz and Copacabana- the original Copacabana, not the beach in Brazil. We kicked off our mini-vacation with a short 35 minute flight to La Paz, home of the highest aiport in the world, and home of Hotel Espana, the most quaint (in a 1920s kind of way) and rustic (in a, "we dont have heat even though it's 30 outside" kind of way) hotel I have ever been in. It brought me back to a Grusenski family vacation when we stayed somewhere in California on the second floor of an old saloon, where the three Grusenski girls slept in one full-sized bed, and the communal bathroom was down the hallway. Except it wasn't California, and I was freezing. The thought of taking off a layer of clothing made me shudder, so I ended up wearing all of the clothes I packed for the weekend to bed, including my jacket.
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Other than the cold, I liked the little I got to see of LaPaz. El Prado, the "Times Square" of the city, was decorated with green and red lights, the city's colors, in anticipation of the upcoming annual festival that celebrates the founding of the Bolivia's capital. Large groups of men and women were practicing different dances in the crowded streets. The city seemed more cosmopolitan that Cbba, and had less of a visible indigenous presence.
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Saturday we had a 6am wake-up call for our 3-hour van ride to Copacobana. It was incredible to see a different side of Bolivia outside of a city. The main road leading out of LaPaz was lined with brick buildings that seemed to be either tiny functioning tiendas or abandoned buildings, with nothing behind them but mountains. This seemed to go on for miles and miles. In places, you could see small clusters of adobe homes- communites, far removed the city and any amentities. Beyond these tiny pueblos were only snow-covered mountains.
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My favorite part of the trip to Copacobana was El Estrecho. During our van ride, we (and many other buses, vans and cars) had to cross Lake Titicaca at a narrow point to get to Copabocana. If we didn't cross the lake here, we would have to go all the way around, which, I can only guess would have added hours and hours to the trip. So we stopped at El Estrecho and I traded one Boliviano for three squares of toilet paper in the public bano, and another Boliviano to pile into a small boat with a few dozen other passengers. Our vehicles were loaded onto very small, flat boats or barge-type things. One student described the vehicles as bobbing on a wine cork across the lake, which is an accurate visual. Apparently in the past, they allowed passengers to stay in their vehicles and bob across the lake within them, until either something terrible happened, or someone decided it was a bad idea. The group, and our vans, made it safely across the Lake.
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We arrived in Copacobana mid-morning and made our way to a privately-chartered "boat" that would take us to Isla del Sol, or Island of the Sun, about two and a half hours from Copacobana. While all of my companeros enjoyed the views from the top deck, I decided to spend some time tap dancing with Iron and Wine in the "main cabin" during our ride.
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The Incans believed that Isla del Sol was where the earth began, and I don't think I've ever been to a place where it was so easy to appreciate Pachamama, or Mother Earth. After walking through a tiny pueblo, complete with mules and wild pigs strolling around, we took a 45-minute hike to Incan ruins on the south of the island, through commnities of a few homes and a few sheep. The views were spectacular, unlike anything I've ever seen. It's no wonder the Incans had such a profound respect the earth. And there we were, 17,000 feet above sea level, with the ruins practically to ourselves, surrounded by a massive lake which could have been an ocean, standing on thousands of years of history, and I kept thinking, "WHAT am I doing here?!" Who am I to deserve this experience, to be standing on top of the world, soaking in the sun, soaking in God's glory. So I danced, of course, because that's what I do when I'm happy and sad and everything else. And then Jonathan and I ran around like kids in a playground, except I was very aware that my playground was and still is part of ancient history. My only regret is that we didn't have more time to spend on top of the Island. Writing this now from Cbba, I feel so far away from Isla del Sol, maybe because it was so peaceful, so untouched, and so isolated from the rest of the world. I wish my soul felt that way more often-peaceful, isolated from the craziness of the world, but grateful for everything surrounding me. Those feelings come easy these days, but I know it will be more of a challenge in two weeks when I return home.
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Back in Copacobana, we settled in to our five dollar per night hotel (including a free endless supply of tea, bananas and oranges, a complimentary breakfast, and a no water in the shower!), before heading out to find a place to for dinner. With all the restaurants in town, I think we picked the worst one. It was a total disaster. I ordered the local specialty, trucha, or trout, which was good but not filling. The rest of the group was unhappy with their meals and the service and it was just an awkward experience altogether. Less than an hour later, we were in an Italian place down the street ordering pesto fettucine. I ended the night huddled under several blankets, sharing a bottle of wine ("Tienes una cosa para abrir esta?") and watching movies with Spanish subtitles. Just my speed :) So it all worked out in the end.
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On Sunday, I attended mass at the Basilica of the Virgen of Copacabana. It turns out that the famous Copacabana in Brazil was named after the Virgen of Copacabana in Bolivia, after a chapel was built there in the 18th century. Devotion to the Virgen is incredibly strong in Copacabana, in Bolivia, and throughout Latin America. One of my professors explained that in indigenous culture, the concept of duality is immensely important. For example, a man cannot exist as a contributing member of the community without a woman, and vice versa. (Evo Morales, the President, is "La Gran Contradiccion," because he is not married; He says the pueblo is his "other half"). So it makes sense that in Bolivia, where seventy percent of the population is indigenous, the Blessed Mother is so important, because God, as male, absolutley cannot exist alone or separate from Mary. At least that's my understanding from class.
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After the mass, in which the entire congregation applauded the Virgen Mother, we witnessed another interesting local ritual. Dozens of cars line the streets in front of the Basilica every Sunday for a special blessing. The faithful can purchase firecrackers, strings and bouquets of flowers, bows, and plastic hats from local vendors to decorate and attach to their cars. Dominican friars carried buckets of holy water to each car, sprinkling it on the heads of the drivers and their families, on the tires, under the hoods; some Bolivians even sprayed their cars with champagne and beer. In my opinion, this could stand as a testament to how crazy the driving is in this country, where red lights are simply suggestions.
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That afternoon, we ate lunch as a group in a rather swanky restaurant, and I tackled my first whole fish. Other than the eyeball staring at me while I ate, it was a great meal, and the perfect way to end a fabulous weekend in hippie-vibin' Copacobana. There were lots of little shops and cafes and restaurants, lots of backpackers, and lots of dreadlocks. Needless to say, I could have hung out there for several days drinking tea, eating trout, and meeting travelers. I'm looking forward to going back someday.
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Love and Romans 12:12,
K