The principal structure on Koati was built around three sides of a small plaza, constructed on an artificial terrace in a slight depression on the eastern side of the island.  The fourth side is open and affords a magnificent view of the lake and the wonderful snow-covered Cordillera Real, 200 miles long and nowhere less than 17,000 feet high.  This range of lofty snow-peaks of surpassing beauty culminates in Mt.  Sorata, 21,520 feet high.  To the worshipers of the sun and moon, who came to the sacred islands for some of their most elaborate religious ceremonies, the sight of those heavenly luminaries, rising over the majestic snow mountains, their glories reflected in the shining waters of the lake, must have been a sublime spectacle.  On such occasions the little plaza would indeed have been worth seeing.  We may imagine the gayly caparisoned Incas, their faces lit up by the colors of “rosy-fingered dawn, daughter of the morning,” their ceremonial formation sharply outlined against the high, decorated walls of the buildings behind them.  Perhaps the rulers and high priests had special stations in front of the large, step-topped niches.  One may be sure that a people who were fond of bright colors, who were able to manufacture exquisite textiles, and who loved to decorate their garments with spangles and disks of beaten gold, would have lost no opportunity for making the ancient ceremonies truly resplendent.

On the peninsula of Copacabana, opposite the sacred islands, a great annual pageant is still staged every August.  Although at present connected with a pious pilgrimage to the shrine of the miraculous image of the “Virgin of Copacabana,” this vivid spectacle, the most celebrated fair in all South America, has its origin in the dim past.  It comes after the maize is harvested and corresponds to our Thanksgiving festival.  The scene is laid in the plaza in front of a large, bizarre church.  During the first ten days in August there are gathered here thousands of the mountain folk from far and near.  Everything dear to the heart of the Aymara Indian is offered for sale, including quantities of his favorite beverages.  Traders, usually women, sit in long rows on blankets laid on the cobblestone pavement.  Some of them are protected from the sun by primitive umbrellas, consisting of a square cotton sheet stretched over a bamboo frame.  In one row are those traders who sell parched and popped corn; in another those who deal in sandals and shoes, the simple gear of the humblest wayfarer and the elaborately decorated high-laced boots affected by the wealthy Chola women of La Paz.  In another row are the dealers in Indian blankets; still another is devoted to such trinkets as one might expect to find in a “needle-and-thread” shop at home.  There are stolid Aymara peddlers with scores of bamboo flutes varying in size from a piccolo to a bassoon; the hat merchants, with piles of freshly made native felts, warranted to last for at least a year; and vendors of aniline dyes.  The fabrics which have come to us from Inca times are colored with beautifully soft vegetable dyes.  Among Inca ruins one may find small stone mortars, in which the primitive pigments were ground and mixed with infinite care.  Although the modern Indian still prefers the product of hand looms, he has been quick to adopt the harsh aniline dyes, which are not only easier to secure, but produce more striking results.