The Copacabana without the caipirinhas

The border crossing between Peru and Bolivia was straightforward, and despite the warnings of our guidebook required no bribery. Our first stop in our final country was the tiny town of Copacabana, gateway to the Bolivian side of Lake Titicaca. Having just left Puno, which didn´t improve on a second visit, the sunny and serene town was a lovely surprise. It is cradled between the lake and mountains, and its streets, while dusty and touristy, were attractive enough. The centre of town is dominated by a whitewashed Moorish-style church; apart from this the main attraction nearby is the steep hill a few minutes walk away, for amazing views of the bay. The town is so small there is no atm, as we discovered to our alarm a few Bolivianos away from empty pockets. Along with fifty Bolivians, we queued at the only bank in town, where we could get a cash advance. The Bolivians were almost without exception in traditional dress - brightly coloured voluminous skirts, plaited hair and bowler hats for the women, shirts and sweater combos for the men. They made a stark and slightly uncomfortable contrast to the barefooted backpackers in torn jeans flashing bits of plastic and withdrawing wads of cash...

The main reason anyone visits Copacabana is to get to Isla del Sol, which is the biggest island on Lake Titicaca and as legend has it is the birthplace of the Incas. So we headed down to the docks early on our first full day in Bolivia, and caught an unbelievably slow ferry crammed with tourists across to the island. Once there, virtually everyone else departed to view some minor Inca ruins - blase after Machu Picchu, we decided instead to take the coastal route round the island. The island is still virtually undeveloped, and the path we were following was really more of a track, often through local farms (still designed the Incan way in hillside terraces).

The views were beautiful, and the air was perfumed by the many euculyptus trees favoured by farmers all over South America. The heat was intense however, and the steep hills took their toll, at around 4065m above sea level. After walking for around four hours, along a path growing more and more vague and grown over, we realised we were entirely lost. The only human beings in sight were farmers, who spoke not Spanish but Quecha. After running up and down hills trying frantically to glimpse the port, and retracing our steps, we made it back to the docks to find we had missed our boat off the island but thankfully not the last one - the prospect of a night in surroundings rustic at best was not exactly enticing...The end result of our visit to the island was that we succeeded in completely bypassing all the Incan sites favoured by other tourists, engaged as we were in our own unique five hour trek of sorts. In consolation we reminded ourselves that is exactly the kind of experience we´ve paid good money for at other points on our trip!

With our culinary experiences in Copacabana came the first intimations that food in Bolivia would leave someting to be desired. Fried, fried or...roast in lots of oil are about as far as your options as to cooking methods extend. Salchipapas (cut up hot dog with fried potatoes) are very popular. Set lunches ae cheap and edible, but woe betide you if you don´t like soup. We went out for Mexican food one night and discovered that in Bolivia vegetarian fajitas include whatever you can´t get rid of any other way - broccoli and cauliflower with your guacamole anyone? All this is to say that we headed for La Paz full of hope - after all, the culinary situation had to improve there, right?....