
The following day, a group of us headed out to La Isla del Sol, a 90 minute ride from the village in a squashed and painfully slow boat. Climbing to the highest point of the southern part of the island was hard work, though it is not really that high at all. God only knows what it is like climbing at 5,000 or 6,000 metres. The view at the top of the pre-inca (there was stuff before those guys?) staircase is, unsurprisingly, divine.
What was not so divine, in my first few days in Bolivia, was the food. After the delights of Peru, the local fair has slipped back to the standards of Central America. A little bit like the calibre of local beauties.
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