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Published: September 20th 2007
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Lake Titicaca
280 miles across, this is one serious lake! Have you heard of Lake Titicaca? It's name sounds like it came from a Carry-On film. It is also the world´s highest navigatable lake. The world's actual highest lake is somewhere in Russia, and is only unnavigatable because no-one's bothered to put any boats up there.
Lake Titicaca straddles both Peru and Bolivia, and there are great arguments about where the actual border lies. Peru claims to own 60% of the lake, but so does Bolivia! We set sail on the Peruvian side to a rather interesting island called Amantani. The men on this island wear one of two types of hat to signify whether they are single or married. But according to our guide, the younger generation "do not respect the hats" anymore, and wear whichever they feel like. A disgrace!! Someone should tell them "You should respect the hats!!" The chief of each village can be identified because he wears two hats, once over the other, which quite frankly looks ridiculous, but you can´t argue with hundreds of years of tradition. Although it´s no wonder the youngsters don´t respect the hats anymore, when their leader walks round looking like a pillock. The women have a similar system to
The Hats
You wear one of these flopped over your head, Santa Claus style, to signify your marital status determine marital status. They have multicoloured bobbins tied to the end of their pigtails. Small and modest means married, large and colourful means single. Possibly the larger the bobbin, the more desperate you are? If you see a woman with a bobbin the size of a football, it means she´s well up for it. (Also of note on this island is that it´s the men who do all the knitting, not the women!)
We sailed further into the vastness of Lake Titicaca to visit another island, where we would be staying with a host family. We were split into pairs and collected from the harbour by our host mothers. Gus and I had Nancy, a rather short and plump lady who led us up the hill towards the village. Most of the ladies seemed plump, but I think it´s mostly due to the fashion. Not only were their skirts the puffy type, but for everyday occasions they wear two or three skirts. For special occasions the number of skirts increases, with proportion to the importance of the occasion. For really special occasions, such as a village fiesta, TEN to FIFTEEN skirts can be worn! It takes some women hours
homemade hats
our host mothers had knitted us each a hat. Don´t we look lovely? to decide what to wear when there's only one skirt involved. For fifteen skirts, they would need to start getting ready two weeks in advance ("does my bum look big in this" Man replies "of course it does. You're wearing fifteen skirts")
The whole village consisted of very basic houses connected by small paths and with plenty of livestock clucking around. Gus and I dropped our bags off and then went to play..... football !! In the middle of the village was a concrete football pitch, and we were due to play some of the local men. I was dreading it. Not known for my skill at sports, norfor my physical fitness, I was about to play my most hated game at high altitude (over 4,000 metres). It was very hard work! Even a short sprint left me breathless. The locals thought they were in for an easy win, but my English and Belgian teammates were excellent players and we won 5-4. I didn't score any of the goals, although I nearly knocked out a spectator when I kicked the ball off the pitch. My main strength, I found, was in defence where I had the great ability to
what´s cooking?
the family´s kitchen. The clay oven is at the back right stumble around and get in the opponents way.
After the game, we retired from the chilling, high-altitude wind in a small cafe. He we had herbal tea with a shot of pisco in it. Alcoholic tea! Wasn´t very nice, but it certainly warmed the cockles. It was dark when we left the cafe, and I didn't have a torch. When I got back to my host families house, I couldn´t open the door, so I had to climb in through a hole in the side of the wall.
It was time for dinner with our host family. Gus and I had brought them some presents from the mainland; rice, tins of tuna, evapourated milk, coffee, fruit and toilet paper. Plus some paper and pens for their daughter Elizabeth. It was a shock to see how poor these people were and what basic lives they lead. The toilet was a corrugated iron outhouse, which we "flushed" with buckets of water. The kitchen was a small room with mud-brick walls and a dirt floor. In the corner was a clay oven heated by firewood, with holes in the top which clay cooking pots were placed over. The food we had
the Jedi Knight look
Gus and myself with our host mother was incredibly simple. A bowl of vegetable broth to begin with, followed by a plate of unpeeled dry pototoes, with some more potatoes on the side of a different type. Oh, and there was a slice of rubbery fried cheese on top which make a squeaking noise when you ate it. Apparently it is considered rude not to finish your food, so I started tucking into my plate whilst making some subtle but fake "yum yum" noises (if they could be heard over the squeaky cheese). Meanwhile I noticed that Gus was struggling with his mound of potatoes, so when our hosts weren´t looking, I kept sneaking a forkful off his plate. He told me later that he had hardly eaten any at all, and kept putting them in his pocket! It was tricky talking with out family, because they didn´t speakj English, and their Spanish was also limited. Their main language was Quechua, but we had tried to learn a few phrases. As you can see from below, it's very different to most European languages!
Hello = Allilanchu
How Are You = Imaynallan Cashanqui
Thank You = Yuspara Sunqui
Good Night = Pakharinkama
After our potato-laden dinner,
Island of Straw
the islands were built as a means of the people avoiding tax on the mainland a fiesta was being held in our honour. Us fellas were dressed up in Llama wool Ponchos, and the ladies wore traditional outfits, which included three skirts. There was a band playing in the village hall, and we all danced a type of barn dance. The band were atrocious! Their instruments were out of tune, but even if they had been in tune, they clearly had no idea how to play. An awful dischordant strumming of three out-of-tune guitars filled the room, punctuated by random notes from a pan-pipe, while some bloke beat on a huge drum incessantly like a four-year old. It was a sound that would curdle milk. None of us stayed at the fiesta very long, preferrring an early night in a cold bed.
The next day we visited another unusual village, on a group of islands called the Uros. These people had created a number of enormous straw islands made from dried reeds! They had straw houses and cruised around on straw boats. Everything was made of straw! It was primitive living, although I did see one or two solar panels (presumably to power their straw TVs). One curious thing about these islands (as if being made of straw wasn't curious enough) was that they could be moved! Normally each island is anchored to the lake bed. But these anchors can be pulled up, and the whole island can be relocated, which used to be done in times of threat. Crazy! Perhaps if all the inhabitants fancy a night out on the mainland, they can just motor the whole island to the nearest port. But what about driving it back once the clubs have closed? It it illegal to drive an island whilst drunk? And what happens if you exceed the harbour speed limit. You get pulled over by a Police Boat (possibly also made of straw). "Excuse me sir, did you realise your island was exceeding the speed limit?"
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Marty
non-member comment
Hmmmm potatoes
what no mashed potatoes ?