We hopped a border and are now in Bolivia where Che Guevara and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid all met their maker. Not being revolutionaries or train robbers we intend on keeping out of trouble. Fingers crossed.

La Paz is the capital and also one of the highest cities in the world. To soften the blow it also could be one of the cheapest. It's been an interesting journey to get here.....

After getting back to Cusco we had a few days to relax which I did with a massage and then cuddling the resident kitten for 2 hours. I should have continued in this vein. Instead we went out for one of the girls birthdays.

The night started off brilliantly. Yet another festival was on so the locals were all dressed up in bright traditional garb. We gathered around the church to watch, and dodge, the fireworks. Much more fun than any I've ever attended. A salsa bar was next up, great fun and free pour! Too much rum and not enough coke may have lead to me dancing on the bar. A bar man may also have been pouring rum down my throat directly from the bottle. This is all hearsay of course. What I can confirm is that Cusco nightlife is fantastic, my hangover from hell lasted 3 long days. I have sworn off alcohol until I escape altitude.

After getting in as much western food as I could possibly stomach it was
time to hit the road again. We were headed for the worlds highest, navigable lake, Lake Titicaca. Our base was the city of Puno, pretty unremarkable in itself but where one launches out to the islands.

We had decided to do an overnight homestay with one of the families on the island of Taquila for some local interaction. First stop though was the Uros Islands, and I'm still baffled. These people literally live on small floating islands made of reeds (they make these islands by hand) which they then build some small huts on. Their ancestors did it to escape the invading Inca. Maybe someone should tell them that threat is long gone. Emmett and I bought some handicrafts from them that we didn't want, just to give them some money. In hindsight, if all the tourists that visit are doing the same, perhaps they are loaded? Maybe we're the suckers after all?

The family we were assigned on Taquila was gorgeous; husband, wife and 3 kids. They live in a tiny house with a mud brick kitchen and an outhouse which is really for the tourists. Was very humbling to see the conditions they live in and yet how happy they are, or at least appeared anyway. Turns out the mother is only 2 years older than me and yet our lives could not be anymore different. Again I felt somewhat guilty regarding the relatively easy life I live.

Though they don't have much themselves, each meal we seemed to get the biggest plates. Very kind but rice with potato and pasta is quite filling; meat is a rarity on the island, its all about carbs. A soccer game helped burn off some carbs for the guys. Being weighed down in traditional dress and flung around the dance floor by a gang of cute children helped me utilize mine.

The border crossing from Peru to Bolivia was ridiculously lax, one could easily cross back and forth with whatever they pleased. Within minutes our time in Peru was done, Bolivia's turn. Often when you cross a border you can immediately see a change in the people, not so much here as the Inca had also conquered much of what is now modern day Bolivia.

Another thing that didn't change was the sheer number of wandering dogs, many looking like they haven't eaten in recent times. The beggers usually upset me, for some reason I'm even worse with the dogs. Lucky my two pampered pooches are at home snuggled on a leather couch. They just wouldn't survive the streets of South America.

Driving into La Paz is a visual contrast. The surrounding suburb of el alto, an urban sprawl of ramshackle housing, is set against some beautiful snow capped mountains in the distance. As you reach a peak La Paz proper comes into view with the vast city literally cascading down a mountain.

Apparently you either love or hate La Paz, but I'm ambivalent. While it doesn't have the gorgeous colonial streets of other South American cities, it's not without it's charms. The narrow streets are filled with market stalls selling anything and everything. You can even pick up a mummified llama fetus from the witches market if you're in need. Restaurants are plentiful and it's all ridiculously cheap!

As far as sightseeing goes, there's not a lot that caught my fancy, though that could be due to altitude sapping my energy and interest. We did make our way out to the Valley of the Moon, a strange area of landscape on the fringes of the city. Apparently wind has caused erosion of the earth creating an area of other worldly landscape. Another 50 years and it will be gone altogether.

Death road was something I first learnt about in a Topgear episode. They drove down this road that looked beyond unsafe with single lanes hugging the mountainside overlooking various wrecks below. At the time I was concerned if I ever got to SA I would have to come face to face with this death trap. Happily that's not the case with authorities building a new, slightly safer option. However you can chose to ride a bike down there; from the top of the mountain at 4900m to the forest below at 1200m. Occasionally people accidentally die. Why would you right?

Well it turns out Emmett would. I did reconsider but really I'm not sure it's the place for someone with the attention span of a goldfish. Knowing me I'd see a pretty butterfly, watch it flutter by, miss a turn in the road and end up flying to my death. Not what I want out of my holiday. Plus the girl we did the Columbia ride with (you know, the one when I went over the handle bars) had ended up saying it was better than death road. Happy to take her word for it.

After going through a million reviews on the many different companies offering a ride down the road of death we finally found one that sounded like death wasn't an option for them. I'm pleased to report Emmett made it back alive and loved it. He is of the opinion that unless you were being really stupid it would be pretty tricky to die. Of course there's always the really unlucky option too.

While Emmett was hurtling down a mountain, I was traipsing town trying to find a decent tour for the Salt Flats, our next stop. It was a fruitless search. I soon gave up and decided we would head for the town where they start and wing it.

Having a free afternoon I considered visiting San Pedro Prison, made famous in the book Marching Powder. Basically it's a jail right in town that is run by the inmates. It's a micro economy with people buying their cells, setting up restaurants and working their professions (not always legal, apparently a good deal of La Paz's cocaine is manufactured there). An Englishman used to give tours in there, he is now gone but others have taken his place. Occasionally the authorities crack down on the tours and tourists have been deported for doing so. Being there are no guards inside the jail, ones safety isn't guaranteed either (reports of rape and such are not uncommon, whether or not true, who knows?). I was pretty confident neither my mum nor Emmett would approve in anyway. All up I decided it probably wasn't worth the risk. Instead I headed to a cafe and downloaded the book over a piece of cake. More my style.

Now after 21 days, and another night out, it's time for us to leave the group and head off on our own. It's been great but very much ready to find our own adventures, meet some new people and have complete independence. Most of all ready to leave altitude for my friend, sea level in Argentina. But before we get there one more stop in Bolivia, the famous salt flats. According to the Internet, in all likely hood our 3 day tour could be hideous; drunken driver, horrid food, junk box car. With any luck I'm hoping to avoid all that. Well shall see!