The bus ride from La Paz to Copacabana proved to be one of the shortest legs of my South American trip so far, clocking in at a mere 4 hours, including a ferry ride across Lake Titicaca. Unaware of the barge ride to cross the lake, I initially thought we had arrived at our destination much earlier than anticipated when we stopped at the ferry port. A quick look at the maps on my phone revealed that I still had some distance to go. While people disembarked, I remained on the bus, which parked on a wonky barge barely big enough for the bus. Later, speaking to fellow travellers, I learned about separate ferries for buses and passengers, explaining why there were only two of us on the bus during the boat ride.
Before departing La Paz, I briefly browsed the limited accommodation options available on booking.com. Nothing caught my eye, so I opted to assess the situation on foot upon arrival. It often yields much better value to stay in more local establishments, instead of ones that have been commercialised on booking sites. Even when its not more cost effective, it usually comes bundled with a more authentic experience overall. The pitfall in this strategy, though, is endurance. Lugging around a hefty backpack often leads one to settle for the first seemingly suitable place, which was precisely what I did. While the spot wasn’t bad by any means, there were more scenic options closer to the water. Nevertheless, it was the lowest price I’d paid for a private room thus far on the trip, which to me is a win in itself.
Though beautiful, I found Copacabana lacking in attractions. To me, it seemed like a spot Bolivian locals go to for a weekend getaway. Trashy hotels lined the main strip toward the lakeside, with more bars in the street than quaint coffee shops. The main draw, undoubtedly, was the lake and boat trips, precisely what I planned for the next day. Trying to keep my stay brief, the plan was to visit the infamous Isla de Sol (Island of the Sun) for a day and catch the night bus directly to Cusco in Peru.
The following morning, I arrived at the docks eager to hop on the morning boat. Having been travelling the last few days at quite a pace, I hadn’t had time to research the best way to explore the island. I opted to just explore it on foot and see what came up. The plan was to arrive at the south port, hike the length of the island, and depart from the northern port. However, upon reaching the ticket office, I was informed that boats no longer depart from the north due to a local conflict. With insufficient time to hike the full route and back again, I settled for a one-way ticket to the south port of Isla de Sol, intending to figure out my return once there.
While waiting with a coffee in hand for the boat to depart, an Austrian girl within conversation distance leaned over and kindly offered me a cookie. Having had no time for breakfast, I decided to go against the age-old wisdom of accepting candy from strangers, trusting that she wasn’t trying to kidnap me. I thanked her for the cookie, we exchanged a few words, but our conversation was interrupted by the boarding call. I sat down with an open seat next to me, and she asked if she could join me. She sat down and introduced herself, her name is Kathi. With over an hour before we reached the island, we easily passed the time with typical, yet delightful, traveller chatter.
Kathi was much more informed about travel options than I was. She brought it to my attention that the night bus I intended to take didn’t exist anymore. This info she got from the travel agent when she booked her bus for 1 pm that afternoon. Her intention was to do a quick guided tour of the island and come right back for the bus. This forced me to reconsider my options, as none of my original plans were valid anymore. I did not pack an overnight bag, so I couldn’t sleep over on the island. Unenthusiastic about spending another night on the mainland at Copacabana, I strongly considered joining her instead. Ultimately, the decision came down to missing out on sightseeing or missing out on companionship. I opted for companionship with the added bonus of leveraging a more robust travel strategy.
After about an hour on the boat, we reached the island. I instantly regretted my complete lack of research of what to expect of the island. It was breathtakingly beautiful, and I wished I had stayed there rather than in Copacabana. It was peaceful, rustic, and very picturesque, overlooking the peaks of the Andes on the mainland across a stunning body of water.
Taking Kathi up on her itinerary also meant joining her on the two-hour tour of Isla de Sol provided by the boat crew, and then hopping back on the same boat. Although not expensive, the tour turned out to be a complete waste of time. Most people were unfit or not acclimatised, resulting in endless waiting for people to climb the stairs. We spent the entire tour slowly trekking up and down a small hill, stopping at some of the local village houses and viewpoints. The tour was in Spanish, leaving a large portion of the info lost on me. It took us a total of two hours to climb a mere 150 meters up and down, which is something that would have taken me a mere 30 minutes on my own. The tour ended back at the boat docks where we waiting our departure back to the mainland. Given how little time I had, and how beautiful the island was, I certainly wished I’d rather have ventured out out my own.
Pueblo translates to “village” 
The beaufitul terraces overlooking the exceptional landscapes. 
Kathi drinking from the so called fountain of youth. I should check if she’s aged since. 
When on a tour, it’s ok to pose like a typical tourist. 
Kathi taking in the wonderful views. 
What would a South America stop be without a llama picture. 
Donkeys enjoying lunch with a view. 
The majestic Andes range in the background.
When we got back to Copacabana, I hit the ground running towards the travel office in order secure my ticket to Peru. I only just managed to buy a ticket and pick up my bag in time to catch the bus. Having set off immediately after I arrived at the bus stop, it wasn’t long before we reached the Peruvian border. The border procedures seemed pretty standard. We were told to stamp out, walk to the immigration office on the Peruvian side, stamp in, and get back on the bus for the rest of the journey. Still being close to the pandemic era, there was also a COVID check on the Peruvian side before you’re allowed to enter the country. When we arrived at the health inspection, there was a small queue of about 15 people, and we thought the process would be quick. We were wrong..
Just as we arrived, the staff went on lunch, and we didn’t move at all for another hour. When we eventually started moving, though, there was only a single person manning the COVID check booth and took about 5 minutes to screen each person. She checked vaccination status, heart rate, and temperature and manually wrote down all the info from the passport and other info onto a separate form. This was painfully inefficient, but we had no reason to be in a rush. It turned out quite enjoyable as Kathi and I engaged in conversation with fellow travellers we met in the queue. Our group of two now grew into a group of five, including a Swedish couple and a Dutch girl.
Two hours later, we finally set foot in Peru, literally. We crossed the border on foot where we boarded the bus once more to proceed with the remainder of the journey to a town named Puno. There, we had to get off and transfer to another bus bound for Cusco.
Once on the bus, we gathered closer together with our new friends and engaged in non-stop conversation all the way to Puno. We covered a myriad of topics, but the most discussed was undoubtedly the dynamics of Kathi’s relationship status. She was in an open relationship and had two full-time boyfriends. The Swedish girl was very open and inquisitive, interrogating her endlessly about practical living arrangements, how she divides her time between them, if she has a favourite, and many other curiosity-provoked questions.
Sadly, upon arriving in Puno, Kathi, myself, and the Dutch girl were bound for Cusco, while the Swedish couple went their separate way. Fortunately, we all had some time in Puno between our connecting journeys, so we ventured into the centre to enjoy a nice dinner together before bidding farewell and going our separate ways.
Kathi had already booked her bus to Cusco from Puno, but the company she planned to travel with was fully booked. Consequently, I had to opt for another bus company, and we arranged to meet up at the same hostel upon our arrival in Cusco. I didn’t mind being in separate buses at all. Given that it was already 10 pm and we expected to arrive in Cusco around 6 am, I had every intention of getting as much sleep on the journey anyway.
