Friday, June 24, 2011
Road Babe Dispatch From Lake Titicaca
Copacabana didn’t seem so sinister by daylight. European hippies with dreads sold hand made everything and tourists rode Flintstone-style pedal-boats close to the shore. As I boarded a vessel bound for Isla del Sol, I was pressed to admit that this body of water wasn’t the ocean.
An hour and a half later, I arrived on the sacred Inca island surrounded by rocky outcrops popping up like fingers through the water’s surface. The hills were covered in ancient ruins and little girls in straw bonnets selling woven blankets. Lake Titicaca: sucking life from the Andes' nipple then bringing it to the community in the form of fresh water and tourists like me.
While one might fade into oblivion, one can't slip out of Bolivia. Just when the bag smacked my head, I woke up to border agents waving flashlights and semi-automatic weapons inside the bus. If Bolivia guarded their drugs like they guard their frontiers, the world would perceive them quite differently.
Mittie Babette Roger is from Louisiana but lives in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. She received an M.F.A. in Creative Writing from Naropa University and authored the book It's Better to Visit the Shaman Without Questions to Ask. She travels the world volunteering to help disadvantaged children and promoting Blue Iguana Tequila to empower serious drinkers.