. Pacific shores from Panama . , too,made our way toward the city gate and the openfields under the stars. [191] LAKE TITICACA LAKE TITICACA A LL the afternoon, upon our return journey from/\ Cuzco, we had been speeding through the-^ ^ dreary plains of the Kollasuyu, or countryof the Collao, the great basin that slopes gently down-ward from the mountains on every hand to form thecup that holds the waters of Titicaca. Even at thisgreat altitude (for we were more than twelve thou-sand feet above the sea) flamingoes stood rosy in thepools and yellow daisies carpeted the tracks. Aswe approached th
. Pacific shores from Panama . , too,made our way toward the city gate and the openfields under the stars. [191] LAKE TITICACA LAKE TITICACA A LL the afternoon, upon our return journey from/\ Cuzco, we had been speeding through the-^ ^ dreary plains of the Kollasuyu, or countryof the Collao, the great basin that slopes gently down-ward from the mountains on every hand to form thecup that holds the waters of Titicaca. Even at thisgreat altitude (for we were more than twelve thou-sand feet above the sea) flamingoes stood rosy in thepools and yellow daisies carpeted the tracks. Aswe approached the lake, the clouds were gathering,and by the time Juliacas church gleamed whiteagainst its background hills, giant cumuli were pilinginto the heavens threatening a downpour at anymoment. Darkness was creeping on. The express from thecoast came snorting into the station; our car was [ 195] PACIFIC SHORES FROM PANAMA switched on to its rear end, and again we started offin the night. In about an hour we made the hghts of Puno and. Juliaca in a few moments drew up alongside the lake superintendent came into our coach, fol-lowed by three Indians, who took up our also brought with him the captain of the Coya, [196] LAKE TITICACA the steamer that was to take us over to Guaqui. Atno other spot upon this globe can you have a Hkeexperience: an all-night voyage on a 700-ton steamer(the Inca, her mate, is 900-ton register) across agreat body of water hung two miles or more abovethe sea. We watched the preparations for departure withlively interest. Directly below us, upon the forwarddeck, among half-breeds and Indians and cratesmarked favos and fatos (ducks and chickens, for theLa Paz market), the Bolivian mails lay piled. Whatdistant pictures their well-worn sacks evoked—thered-and-yellow bags that carry the Correos de Espanafrom Madrid and Barcelona mingled with thosebarred with blue that contained our own Americanmails, and with other stout canvases marked Postesde
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