Goodbye Bolivia; Hello Peru!

I wanted to start this post by telling you which day we left Bolivia, but I have to admit that I am not entirely sure what day it is today, and even so I can't remember if we left two or three days ago. Anyway, it doesn't add a huge amount to this post to know the exact day of our cross country shlep (other than to illustrate how relaxed I am that I can't remember details such as the date), so I will just say that we left La Paz's crumbling, dusty streets and entered Peru a mere 6 hours later. If there were such things as the M1 in Bolivia I estimate that the drive would have taken about a third of this time, as for a significant portion of the journey we were crawling along at 15mph, swerving (if one can indeed swerve at such low speeds) to avoid llamas and old ladies wearing top hats. Thankfully, our velocity picked up once we made it across the border.   So first, a quick summary of Bolivia before I go on to describe our first Peruvian stop. Bolivia is a land of extremes; it is the poorest country in South America, but it has the richest amount of resources (including petrol, silver, gold and tin). Temperatures across the country vary from -35 to 40 degrees Celsius, and the country has rainforests, deserts and snow capped mountains. The altitude is incredibly high (averaging about 3800 metres) which can play havoc with one's body. There were not many travellers in Bolivia (especially when compared to Peru), but the tourist trade is hotting up, and tiny travel agencies are springing up across La Paz. However, facilities are basic; cold water only in some hotels, nowhere accepts credit or debit cards and the toilets often don't have seats (and never have toilet paper or hand wash). However, the scenery is truly exceptional and the Andean people are smiling and friendly. I would recommend a visit to you all, as long as you bring some Imodium and hand wash!   Peru is a richer country than Bolivia, which was immediately apparent as soon as we crossed the border. The roads are better, the streets cleaner and the adverts more garish. We arrived in Puno, a small town on the edge of Lake Titicaca, after a brief stop for lunch in an airy restaurant with huge windows. We were eyeballed by a lugubrious alpaca as we ate, which was rather disconcerting. On the plus side, we had stewed peaches and evaporated milk for pudding, which was divine. I ate rather too much (I was trying to avoid the cameloid's icy glare) and so got back on the bus groaning with an overstuffed stomach. Our hotel in Puno was a step above our accommodation in Bolivia, and we wholly enjoyed the windows (windows! In the room!) and soft pillows. However. With these luxuries came an influx of other tourists, who were significantly older than the twenty-somethings we had left behind. I got stuck in the lift with an elderly French lady who couldn't work out how the floor numbers worked, and kept getting out on every floor, and then dashing back into the lift jabbering in French. I took the stairs from then on.