Lake Titicaca. Go on, say it again... Lake Ti-ti-ca-ca. You just can´t say it without breaking the word up into syllabic sections and allowing each part to roll around your mouth like you´re swilling a great big, fat, juicy glass of Shiraz. It´s such a great word and if you´ve got the little boy (puerile sod?) sense of humour that I have, it´s quite snigger-tastic that two such great words as "titi" and "caca" can be put together to make a perfectly legitimate word for polite conversation. Oh the joy of it all.

Naturally we arrived at Puno, the resort like town, that sits on the lakes shores after dark and so couldn´t immediately see the great lake. Or the hotel room. This was perhaps a bit of a blessing as we´d have seen that our room wasn´t exactly made up. I don´t mean that the sheets were messy, or that fresh towels hadn´t been put out. Nah, I mean that the room was in fact a construction zone. Incomplete as it was with holes in the walls, light fittings that hadn´t been and decidedly stinky plumbing. Obviously there was no discount for this discomfort. "It´s extremely late at night. Take it or leave it skinny boy" was the rough translation of the receptionist who was most put out that we´d raised him from his slumber in the wee small hours.

But who cares? We were here to enjoy Lake Titicaca, yes folks, you´ve got the chance to say it again; that´s: "Titicaca!". It is here that the Inca sun god legend is born and from where the great empire they built began. The lake itself is quite awesome and massive. Indeed at smidge over 12,500 feet above sea level it´s literally quite breath taking, but it really is an enormous pond, a mere 3,500 odd square miles of run off from the snow melt of the Andes. For terms of reference that´s roughly about the size of Luxembourg. How impressive is that? A puddle that´s about the size of a European country!!!!

We wanted to get out on the waters and experience the place as best we could. Alas the, erm, best, experience you can get on the waters of Titicaca is a quick tour out to some "traditional" reed islands. It´s true that people have traditionally lived on reed islands out in the lakes but those to which tourists are bused, well boated, are about as authentic as Cinderella´s castle. It really is a bit of a cheesy tourist trap, but hey we´re cheesy tourists. Well, I am. Honestly, it was worth a look but it wasn´t remotely "real"; but in truth what tourist place is? I can´t be too harsh about the experience as I actually quite enjoyed it. Sure I´m a bit sad, but it´s probably a once in a life time opportunity and Heide was able to buy a traditional, hand crafted (ha, ha, ha, ha, ha) wind chime (it´s actually really rather beautiful).

After the trip on the water we returned to Puno for a big night out before heading onwards from Peru to their southern neighbour, Bolivia. A big night out in Puno involves a couple of things: llama steaks and the inescapable refrain of "El condor pasa" from every passing band of merry buskers, and there was many. I'd rather be a hammer than a nail. Yes, I would, if I only could, I surely would... ahh, it really sticks in your noggin. Honestly this tune more acutely affects the mind than any of the coca leaves that may have been chewed by the masses singing along... I´d rather be a sparrow than a snail... aaaaarrrggghhhh!

The next day we were to take an express six hour bus ride down to the Bolivian capital, La Paz. The rest I´m sure you can guess. Six hours!?!?!?! In whose world? The actual journey was more like this: Three and a half hours down to the border, a reasonably efficient exit from Peru, quick crossing into Bolivia, fairly speedy stamping in, change some currency and wait for the bus. No problem, perhaps half an hour or so at the border. Excellent. Then it starts going south. The bus pulls up at a makeshift roadblock and we all have to bung the "official" a couple of pennies. Oh well it´s only pennies, quit whinging. Then the bad news starts. The express bus to La Paz we´re on actually terminates in the small Bolivian lake side resort of Copacabana. Not a bad place; but nowhere near as impressive as it´s more famous Brazilian namesake (not as warm and far, far, fewer beautiful, scantily clad model types to be seen) But the relative charms of this town were smashed by the ass who was the representative of the bus company in Copacabana.

He was a pillock of the highest order. For some reason, I know not what, he stopped me and Heide getting the bus that was leaving for La Paz just a couple of hours after we´d arrived at his office. I can live, just about, with idiots, what I can´t abide is the idiot who stops me going where I´ve paid to go and rather than explain to me why he´s done so, he runs away. Literally. Repeatedly. I know, you´re probably thinking, "But Cassidy, you´re such a hulking beast of a man, he was probably very scared!" Fair enough. He had good reason to be a little scared, I was, despite my typical glassy demeanour, mildly miffed. The man had the most ragged teeth known to dentistry. I suspect he´d hacked off a few, more reactionary, punters with his block and run technique in the past. Heide found my irked fit extremely amusing. Laughter is the best medicine I suppose. Eventually we were able to board a bus for La Paz that was driven by  bloke who has been voted, by me and my better half, as the best dude in South America. The fellah was so laid back he was horizontal. His chilled persona seeped through the bus and the extended journey we were about embark upon, as a consequence of a series of strike related roadblocks, on the way to La Paz seemed a trifling inconsequence. Thank you sir, we salute you. You really are a good man. The journey itself was pretty entertaining. At one point you have to get off the bus, jump on a small launch which wisks you over part of Titicaca (the bus is also on a ferry that looks decidedly iffy) the rest is either a dusty charge across the sandy road or a hair raising jaunt up and down mountain passes. It´s all good fun.

We eventually reached La Paz, long after dark, at about 7:30, some 12 hours after we´d set out, we were definitely ready for our hotel, which thanks to the dude driver, was only about a 5 minute walk rather than a 15 minute taxi ride away. Cheers mate, here´s to you and here´s to Bolivia.