It ended up being more than what is pictured - you know you have to throw a little extra in for the cost of the ink used to stamp the passport... the way the border guards were hitting on Jenn I thought it was going to be like the clubs where ladies get in free and only guys have to pay the cover... but no such luck. We were the first off of our bus and the last ones to get on by about half an hour - we were glad the bus waited for us but I don't think anyone else was. "America's relationship with Bolivia is like an abusive ex-boyfriend at best - even though they say they won't do anything wrong again, you know it is only a matter of time" (Custom Official).
From the border we stopped briefly in Copacabana and enjoyed the clear waters and fresh trout. From there our bus was driven onto an oversized wooden john boat and motored across the lake - nothing surprises me anymore.
On a much lighter note, Jenn and I road bicycles 40 miles down the world's most dangerous road losing 11,900 ft in the process. The journey started at the snow line on a paved road which quickly deteriorated into a gravel, pot hole ridden road/path averaging 10 feet wide. In some places 2,000 ft sheer cliffs had us white knuckling the handle bars of our 18 speed, hydraulic braked Iron Horse bikes the entire four hour ride down. Thank goodness Jenn is more adept on two wheels than on foot and recorded zero falls on the way down.