C: Copacabana, Bolivia
We arrived just after dark. Off the boat from Lake Titicaca. On the Bolivian side. When crossing, the bus is on one ferry. The riders on another. When I ask why, I am told that sometimes the buses are blown on their sides. And sink in the lake. It’s safer not to let anyone stay on the bus.
Copacabana. A dull town. Of closed doors. Big. Wooden. Closed. Doors. I doubted we could find a place to stay for night. But we did.
The next morning, we went to the Basilica of Our Lady of Copacabana. My pilgrimage. To see the blessing of the cars. Riotous, brightly decorated draped cars and trucks. Plastic flowers. Garlands. The priest that day. Came from the basilica. In a brown robe and sandals. And proceeded with the blessing of the vehicles. It doesn’t seem like a bad idea. To me.