28th December 2024

We woke naturally and instantly drew back the curtains to admire the view, but instead of the blue skies we expected, a storm sat on the horizon. Dark and dense cumulonimbus clouds hung in the air with thunder booming. 

We had until 4pm that day to enjoy Copacabana and we were both keen to climb Cerro Calvario, but we would need the weather to pass first. We therefore took our time eating breakfast and packing up and, luckily, by the time we checked out it looked as if the storm was passing over. 

It was a steep incline up to the top of the mountain and busier than we were expecting. It turned out the climb is not solely for the views of the town but a pilgrimage whereby there is a tribute to the Stations of the Cross, a catholic practice commemorating the life and death of Jesus. There are stalls where pilgrims can buy small doll-like houses and pray to the Virgin Mary asking her for a house of their own. Simultaneously, the same pilgrims pray to Pachamama (Mother Earth), an Andean deity. They show gratitude to Pachamama by placing coca leaves or pouring alcohol on to the earth at the top of the hillside. It amazes me how harmonised the practices of two separate religions are here: one indigenous and one brought about through colonisation. 

The view from here was beautiful, Lake Titicaca was a tranquil deep blue sparkling in the now unobstructed sun. We descended and stumbled upon a cafe away from the busy areas of town whose balcony overlooked the lake. We sat enjoying a coffee before ordering lunch on the pretence of wanting to keep our balcony seat and soaking up the last of the sun-drenched Copacabana view.

When I was walking back from the bathroom a leashed dog growled at me as I passed it’s family through the tight space between the owners chair and the restaurant wall. Before I could back away it had lunged forward and bitten me on the leg. The dog released when pulled back by the owners and I retreated back to the bathroom to check to see if it had drawn blood. Luckily the skin was intact, but two red lumps had already formed where it’s canines had gripped my flesh. Even more than a week later, a giant purple/yellow bruise marks the spot. The whole event threw me a little. Most days in South America I had encountered stray dogs, none of which had showed such behaviour, most of which claimed me as their human and trotting alongside me. I put it down to the dog being over protective of their owner rather than anything I did wrong, but regardless I still felt disturbed. I longed for a cuddle with Dan’s family’s dogs, Millie and Ernie, and for their happy tails and dark eyes to tell me it was okay.

At 4pm we boarded a bus to take us across the boarder into Puno, Peru. We watched the sun set through the window allowing hazy red light into the darkening bus before it was lost behind a mountain. As we approach Puno, the tummy ache I had been ignoring since yesterday increased in intensity. I was thankful to get off the bus and fill my Nalgene bottle with hot water to press against my cramping belly. I went to bed, unable to properly eat dinner due to the stabs of pain, hoping this would pass by morning.