The chorus of Lake Titikaka is a quiet rhythm. The short gasps of lake water lapping up on the white sand coves, the repetitive crunch of gravel under my feet, my short breaths trying to grab more oxygen than the air will allow, a gust of wind here and there, and the occasional whine of a donkey echoing through the hills.

Sapphire blue water surrounds me as I walk alone across the spine of Isla del Sol, the deep and mysterious water plunging into underwater cities of gold and silver, filled with mermaids, or so the Incas thought. Cottonball clouds cling to the horsizon, framing the clear blue sky and strong sun. White capped mountains stand stong and wise in the distance, witnessing the world from the top.

The land is wrinkled by the terraces built by civilizations past, but holding up today and used daily by the 2000 indigenous people who still live here. Women in wide skirts, alpaca sweater schlep striped sacks of all colors up and down the hills through the day, calling to children in qeutchwa and commanding small herds of donkeys and sheep.

After three hours of hiking, well maybe 2 and a half hiking and a half hour of breaking, I reached the sacred rock, where the Incan mythology was apparently born. Someone told me if you touch it you can see the future. No apocalytptic psycic visions, but had lots of contemplations time and quiet moments just sitting and thinking about life and beauty.

Maya and I found some ruins that used to be a sacrifice ground, even had a sacrificial table.

We stayed the night on the less populated, untouristy side of the isand. No flushing toilets, little exlectricity, but inspiring calm.

Woke up the next morning before sunrise to hike the way back. Also woke to food poisoning. Tried to hike a shortcut used by the natives where you climb for an hour, apparently cutting of the unessacary switch backs and then just head downhill. Tbhe thing is i thought the word ´subir´just meant go up here, but in this context, they meant rockclimb up to the main trail. One step at a time, one breath at a time, the trail eventually arrived. One of the most laborious hours of my life, but I did cut off a good hour. Glad to arrive at the more populated and more comfortable side of the island as the stomach aches began to take over.

Spent the day lounging, trying to ignore stomach pains, and admiring the beauty of the Isla. Went out for a trout dinner for the third night in a row for about 3 US dollars with fresh incan mashed potaotes and quinoa soup. Unfortunatelty my mind was more excited than my stomach. No more details here, except that Im glad to be alive and well now and glad to be travelling with smart caring girls who speak spanish. Also glad to live near hospitals.

Packed up our things and hiked down the mountain past the ancient Incan fountain and got on a boat for Cocacabana. Ahora, estoy en Cocacabana.