Sun King

We spent half of last week on the northern part of Isla del Sol, which sits in the the majestic Lake Titicaca (haha, caca).

There are no cars on the island and only about 800 families live there. To get there, we took a 2-hour ferry from Copacabana. We slept in a cute, little clay cabin, perched on the side of a small mountain, overlooking the lake. We paid 30 bolivianos (about $4.50) per night, and ate fresh caught trucha (trout) for lunch everyday.

At dinner everynight, we wathed sheep, cows, goats and donkeys pass by our restaurants´ window, being escorted home by their sheperds, after a plentiful day of grazing.

After Isla, we headed back to La Paz to board a 17-hour bus to Santa Cruz. Shira packed PB and J sandwiches, clementines, oreos, chips and water. Two ridiculously violent movies were shown overnight (Bloodsport and Desperado), and before we knew it, we pulled into Santa Cruz at around 11 am yesterday. From there, believe it or not, Shira and I stuffed ourselves into the front-seat of a tiny white cab, and rode another 3.5 uncomfortable hours to the small and charming village, Samaipata. All in all, we spent about 24-hours in transit.

El Choro

The night before heading off on the 3-day, El Choro trek, Shira felt kinda funny. And by funny, I mean sick and disoriented. It must´ve been the altitude in La Paz. We had just finished up some saag paneer and chapati (you´re welcome, dad), at an Indian restaurant, when Shira felt like she was gonna throw up. I helped her up from the table and began to lead her to the bathroom. ¨Everything started going in circles,¨ recounts Shira. And then, in the middle of the restaurant, she didn´t throw-up...she fainted. I began yelling her name, lightly slapping her face, while the waiters around us scrambled to help. After 10ish seconds, she woke up and said she was having a dream.

Later that night, on our way back from the ATM, Shira began to feel faint again. She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and proceeded to yack...a lot...on the street, on her crocs and on her pants. Fortunately, she began to feel better after unloading.

The next morning we got up early and Shira said she was up for the trek. We met our guide, Ronaldo, in La Paz, and drove an hour in a van to the beginning of El Choro, at about 4900 meters (16,000 feet). It was cold and windy up there, but we were dressed in layers and felt energized, breathing in the clean, mountain air.

The El Choro trek is unique in that the majority of the trail is a descent. In the first day alone, we moved from 4900 meters to 2800. Walking downhill, hour after hour, having to step on and around jagged stones and rocks, was brutal on our knees. In the higher altitudes, we saw tons of sheep and llamas and stone pueblos and yellow mountains (not our photo). But by the end of the first day, we had decended low enough to find ourselves in warmer weather, in the forest (not our photo), where we remained for the next two days of trekking. We camped in tents each night along the forests' ridge lines at these little rest-stops, ran by locals, who sold water, coke ad beer to the trekkers. Ronaldo prepared our meals each day, mostly consisting of rice, eggs, salty cheese, carrots, green peppers and hearty vegetable soup.

Though we completed a 10-day trek in Nepal, El Choro felt much harder on us. If you saw Shira trying to walk down the flight of stairs at our hostel this morning, you might laugh out loud, but also cry a little too. We are VERY soar, but so proud to be done!

We're now in the small and charming town of Coroico, resting for the next day or so, until we head back to La Paz, and from there, bus to Isla del Sol. We´re never walking again.

Amazon (not the e-commerce website)

Well, the food is definitely better in India, but Bolivia has still got it goin´ on in its own unique, South American way.

Shira and I have just returned from the Amazon Basin region of Bolivia, where we spent a few days with the indigenous-run, Mashaquipe Eco-http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifTourism project, which, according to their website,

¨should help to conserve their culture and environment and give them a earning to improve the situation of their life and enable the education and apprenticeship of their children. They have the only tourism office in Rurrenabaque which is organized by the indígenas themselves and that's profits are exclusively used to improve their situation.¨

To get there, we flew on a tiny 18-seat plane from La Paz to Rurrenbaque. From there, we boarded a wooden motorboat and cruised 3-hours in a river to our camp in the jungle. Our gorgeous little cabin was made entirely from native trees and built entirely and masterfully by the people running the program, all of whom were born and raised nearby.

Our guides taught us how to make rings out of coconut seeds and how to treat both basic and serious ailments with infusions and tonics made from native plants and barks. We were humbled and energized by their ingenuity.

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Now we´re back in La Paz. Tomorrow, we leave for a 3-day trekking adventure.