If only all border crossings were that straight forward and simple. On the Peru side there was a drop down barrier and the guy said “passport in that building and motorbike in that building”. Both next to the gate and simple. Although. And it’s a small although. They don’t give you a copy of your cancelled Temporary Import Permit (TIP) for your bike and so you have to ask for a photo of it just in case there’s a mix up somewhere and they say you sold the bike in Peru and never took it out. Once you have done that and got your exit stamp which was quick you are then free to move through the barrier and down the road a few hundred metres to the Bolivian border post.

The passport stamp was really quick there but mainly because I’m and Aussie and we don’t need a visa. We get 90 days on arrival. Nice. Actually, all four countries have been the same so far regarding visas. Getting my TIP required a bit more paperwork and an inspection of my bike including the VIN etc. They all seem to take this part pretty seriously. I was in the guy’s office for half an hour. Mainly answering questions about Antarctica. He seemed particularly interested in things being frozen and how we dealt with it.

It was a quick ride from the border to the town of Copacabana on the shores of Lake Titicaca. The Canadian guy was already there and sent me an address of a good place to stay. And it was great. Hostal Florencia. Ran by a lovely lady who I became good friends with over the 3 days that I stayed there. It was in a nice spot and had a big courtyard for the bike. The walls of the courtyard and the rooms themselves all had lovely murals painted on them. And it was only $12AUD a night including a simple breakfast.

For those that don’t understand the blackmarket its time to pay attention. After my years of being a tour guide in Russia and travelling through Africa I became a bit of an expert on how to change your money, quickly and get a great rate without going to the bank. Bolivia and Argentina (and possibly Venezuela) have unstable currencies and so whenever they can they like to get their hands on $USD. Credit cards confuse things a little, so I’ll stick to cash. And ATM’s always dispense currency at the official rate. If I take $100USD to the bank, then they will exchange it for 700 Bolivianos and you get a nice receipt. If I take my $100USD to a currency exchange kiosk or to someone changing money on the street the rate is more flexible.

It’s sort of semi legal. Unlike my time in Russia as a tour guide when I used to exchange money and get 10 times what the bank was giving. It made things so cheap but back then there wasn’t much to buy either. Those days are long gone. Or maybe not with their current war problems? Back then I was in constant fear of getting caught and ending up in Siberia. But here is much more pleasant. In Copacabana it was easy to locate a place that changed money for the good rate. Without haggling I was able to get 1050 Bolivianos for my $100USD instead of 700. The cost of everything you buy is still in Bolivianos but you have a lot more cash to spend. It makes everything one third less and things are already cheap to start with.

They only like crisp new one hundred dollar notes with no marks or wear and tear. And they check them very carefully. I think they also except 100 Euro notes too. The people that buy your money then sell it to locals who have money to save but don’t want to save it in the banks or in Bolivian currency. The seller makes a few dollars on each note they buy and sell. Gold is also a common way people in Latin America store their savings as they are distrustful of banks and governments. We are very fortunate in places like Australia. Despite our whinging.

So after changing some money I then bought a local sim card for my phone (cheap and easy) and then I had dinner with the Canadian guy again as he was heading off the next morning to La Paz. I just had a lazy day and that evening I wandered up the hill called Cerro Calvario to watch the sunset. It was only a couple of hundred metres but hard work at 4000m altitude. But really worth it. It was so lovely up there. So different to Puno on the other side of the lake. The Peruvians joke about sharing the lake border saying that they got the Titi and Bolivia got the Caca (poop). Wrong. I was able to grab a quick beer off one of the stall ladies as she packed up for the night. And watched a beautiful sunset with a handful of other tourists. Mostly Europeans.

The hill has obviously been there forever and was once a sacred place for the local indigenous people but in the 40’s the catholic church decided to sort that out and built a heap of huge crosses on it so the locals wouldn’t get confused about who the boss is. It still has a bit of a traditional aura about it. I really enjoyed it.

The next day I went on a day trip adventure on the lake. I’ll keep that separate. On the morning that I was due to leave I went for an early morning walk around the point to a rock called the La Boca del Sapo. It seems like it’s more of a local thing than a touristy thing. It was a nice 20 minute walk and I ended up being the only person there that time of the morning. Legend has it that a Sapo (toad) came out of the lake onto the beach and forgot to return by sunrise and was baked into a rock.

I’m not sure if it’s a good luck thing or a way of warding off bad luck but locals pour beer, wine or champagne over the toad looking rock. Probably in the evening as there was no one doing it when I was there but plenty of evidence of it. I had none to share so I guess I’ll just have to take my chances. From there I wandered back, talking to a couple of tradies on the way and then tried out a local food. The Salteña. The little stall looked nice. He said it was chicken and that there was juice inside it but I couldn’t see how that could happen. So I wore a lot of juice all over my hands and clothes after my first bite. Luckily I was alone and it wasn’t too embarrassing. It was nice though. After I cleaned myself up, I packed up my gear and was ready to head to La Paz. Then disaster struck.

Not mine but the cat of the lovely owner of the hotel. Her cat was trapped on a neighbouring roof and crying for help. I assisted a neighbour to get close to the cat but it didn’t want to be helped and jumped over the edge three stories into a vacant yard below. The yard was derelict and inaccessible. With ladders and time, we were able to get into the yard but I couldn’t locate the cat. Not dead. Not there. Vanished.

She was very upset. Not just for herself but for her granddaughters who live with her. She was also going to LaPaz that day on the bus and didn’t want to go until she found the cat. I understand that the suspense is killing you so I can let you know that after a couple of days she text me to say that the cat had finally returned. One down. Eight to go. A happy ending.

I left all hot and sweaty for my 3.5 hour ride to La Paz. Obviously bad things happen in threes, and I had two more to go.