I lazily walk past the small, covered trucha kiosks that line the Lake Titicaca beach front in the tiny town of Copacobana, Bolivia. Without fail, each owner beckons me to come and sit with a look of hope (not desperation) in their sun worn eyes. They each seem to be run by one family, with the mother outside trying to bring in patrons, the father in the back cooking and the kids either playing along the beach or helping their parents.

I chose the ninth covered kiosk, aptly numbered Kiosk #9 and the mother at the entrance beams with pride as I settle in to one of the red plastic seats and look over the menu (which is the same as kiosks 1-8 and 10-20). She says some soft words to her daughter who then comes over to wait for my order.

The small girl giggles as she takes my order of trucha a la mantequille and un servesa. When I ask how much the beer is she replies with a giant ear-to-ear grin that the servesa is $8Bs ($1.15cad) and then brings it out with a small glass to pour it into. I can hear the fish, caught fresh today in the lake, frying in the pan just behind the counter as the aroma pleasantly fills the air.

After a little while and half a beer later the succulent food is laid before me on the table by the smiling father, who goes then to the front to join his wife and chat.

The flesh of the fish nearly melts off as I take a piece and put it into my watering mouth. “Esta muy rico!!” I exclaim to them as I realize this is probably the best trout I’ve ever had. “Gracias!” replies the father.

The little girl walks by with a grin as I take another sip of my servesa, lean back in my chair contently and happily return the smile.