We leave La Paz, direction Copacabana. I know I will disappoint some, but you will not see any pictures of Brazilian in thong. This Copacabana is in Bolivia, at the edge of Lake Titicaca and 4000 meters above sea level, the string is not too fashionable. We are piling into a minibus. It breaks down barely a quarter of an hour after departure, but ends up leaving again. I have to keep my knees bent, which is rather painful after my recent fall on the bike.
After a few hours, we arrive at the lake which has a beautiful dark blue color. We have to cross an arm of the lake to go to the peninsula we are in Copacabana. The bus drops us and goes on a barge, nobody tells us anything. We wonder how to join our luggage that are left on the bus and finally discover that we must take a small boat a little further to cross.
We finally arrive at Capacabana, a quiet little town by the lake. We eat a grilled trout in front of the water, a delight after two weeks of rather basic Bolivian cuisine. I meet Charlie, the Argentinian from La Paz, to give him back his bike. I’m pretty annoyed because it has suffered a little during my fall. In the evening, we wander around the city to find a nice place to have a drink. Suddenly, we hear music coming from a kind of big gym on a square. We are getting closer to participate in the party. But inside, everything is dark and men repeating without conviction what gives the impression of being a military march of the USSR, rather gloomy atmosphere. We pass our way and find a small bar where everyone is sitting on the ground,
The next day we take a boat to the Isla del Sol. According to legend, this island on Lake Titicaca is the cradle of the Inca civilization. On the boat, we are surrounded by Argentines. We discuss music and cinema. They know all French movies, it’s impressive. We also leave with a good list of Argentine films to download when returning to France.
The island is really pretty with its terraced hillside cultivation. We climb to the crest. I drag myself limping for three hours on the path that takes us to the small village on the other side of the island. The landscape is really Mediterranean, with its small stone walls and coves of blue water, beautiful. At the crossing, we meet three people who try to sell us their “boleto touristico”, being obligatory to walk on the island. It feels a little scam. The sun is hot. Francois puts himself topless to make a little tan, but he reminds himself to order by a boleto touristico salesman: “If you walk without a T-shirt, you will trigger the hail”. Francois puts on his T-shirt, we do not laugh with the Inca gods here.
Coming to the village, Francois took a beautiful purple color and here, no Biafine. It stings. Here, not easy to find a hotel, they are all already full. We end up degoting a room in a place that deserves to enter our top of the most seedy hotels of the trip. There is no toilet, so the pee is behind the wall, at the exit of the village. In the evening passing by the beach, we meet a group of Argentines who carry a huge piece of beef for the assado “of the evening. Traditions do not get lost, even while traveling.
The next day we visit the small ruins of the temple and the table of sacrifices that are not very impressive for the cradle of the Inca civilization. Then, we take the boat direction Capocabana avoiding the famous floating village of Lake Titicaca, which according to what we have been told is a bit of a tourist trap. In the evening, we leave towards the Peruvian border, a few minutes by bus from the city.