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Published: January 25th 2008
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Having had an amazing time trekking through the high Andes of central Peru, Christy, Kent and I set off from Cusco on phase II of our joint travels - eastbound to Lake Titicaca and the high altitude Peruvian altiplano.
As expected, the bus ride was a cultural experience in it's own right as we passed through several highland villages and towns unlike any I'd seen. Despite the paved (albeit bumpy and outdated) one lane highway that our bus bounced along, most towns lacked any modern infrastructure in the form of roads or facilities. After heavy rains the dirt roads crisscrossing properties and towns became veritable mud bogs, in which the local pigs loved to roll freely. Untethered flocks of sheep helped to trim the scarce grass of the median between two way traffic. Many buildings seemed to have been only half constructed, as steel rebarb stretched from roof corners high into the air. Trash littered every street corner, and we passed several homes burning large smoke-belching garbage piles in the front yard. Laundry was done by hand in a single stream running through town and urinating in public seemed to be the norm rather than a faux-pas. Electricity was
scarce, and full sets of teeth even more so. It is certainly another world in these poverty stricken places, where different rules must be followed just to stay alive in the fight against the elements.
As we pulled into the eastern port city of Puno we were once again comforted by modern technology and conveniences as well as plentiful sunshine. Nearing the end of our Peruvian experience we decided that we must try "cuy", a local delicacy. Put plainly, cuy is a roasted guinea pig, served whole on the plate and complete with fatty skin, little claws and sharp-toothed head staring back at you. It tasted somewhat like chicken, but wasn't great. I'm happy to check it off the list and never go back. In our hostel we ran into another backpacker from California named Takeo and suggested he join us for a stretch of the ride. The following morning we collectively boarded a small boat bound for some of the unique western islands of Titicaca, the world's highest navigable lake at 12,300 feet.
Our first stop was the very unique island network of Uros. This small community of 3,000 Quechua natives lived on a series of man-made
floating reed islands. They are constructed by hand and anchored to the lake bottom with long wooden stakes and rope to hold the units together. Each tiny island is only about 150 ft by 150 ft, enough to accommodate about 5 small families living in fragile reed huts. They subsist off of tourism (selling handmade crafts) and small fishing practice in the surrounding labrynth of tall lake reeds. Despite such isolation and lack of resources, they do have a primary school, basic medical facility and solar power to provide certain amenities. The boats they use to commute from island to island are truly an artform, woven from reeds into flatbed vessels with the craning heads of pumas and serpents. As a modern day eco-adaptation they are also stuffed with thousands of plastic bottles found on the lake shore to stay afloat. We spent an hour or so visiting with locals and learning about their amazing way of life, then embarked on a 3-hour float across vast blue waters to reach our evening destination, the island of Amantani.
Here we were greeted at port by a stout Quechua woman named Rebecca who was to be our host mother on an
overnight stay on the island. She led us through small farmlands overlooking the water to her mud brick home on the hillside, complete with baahing sheep and heehawing donkey lounging in the front yard. The four of us and another Swedish gal were shown our basic but cozy accommodation for the night before being cooked a wonderful lunch of soup and vegetables picked from the personal crops, accompanied by some fresh-picked muña mint tea. While checking out the place (complete with midget doors for the small-statured Peruvians) I noticed an interesting item in the rafters of the roof. Upon closer examination I realized that it was a dried llama fetus. These are apparently bought in witch markets and then buried under a new home for protection and good fortune. This little guy was looking out from above. Takeo and I juggled a deflated soccer ball with the family's 11 year-old son Diego before having the host father take us on a walking tour of the community, passing many locals tending to their corn and potato crops or herding sheep on steep hillsides. From the village square we climbed a winding stone path to the summit of the small but rugged
island. It's easy to forget just how high you are when overlooking an ocean-like body of water, but your lungs remind you as you approach the panoramic summit at about 13,800 feet. After taking it all in we descended with the sun back to our small home in the village and were treated to a candle light dinner, not for ambiance effect but because there was no electricity. Though we surrounded a small table it was humbling to watch the rest of the family seated on tree stumps on the dirt floor of the tiny kitchen house adjacent to our bedrooms. There was no running water, only a single cabinet for food and plate storage and a handcrafted, wood-fired clay stove to cook our collective dinner. Following the meal I exchanged in basic Spanish with the father about the construction of their home, family crop yields and life on the island. Yet another eye-opening world into the lives of those living in a remote corner of what we've come to believe as the modern day "real world".
Under several warm alpaca wool blankets we passed the night before awakening to a symphony of raindrops rattling on the tin roof.
We bid a thankful farewell to our family after breakfast and returned to the port to embark on the final leg of the island tour. With a strong side wind our little boat pitched and rolled across choppy lake waters to the neighboring island of Taquile, Kent standing on the top deck for the turbulent 1 hour voyage, riding the incessant rollers like a rodeo cowboy. With a shorter stay on the similar island we all felt a bit "toured out", opting out of any extensive walking exploration and electing instead to savor a cheap lunch and good company while overlooking the shining lake.
With the wind finally at our back we cruised smoothly back towards Puno and I enjoyed a euphoric nap in the belly of the gently rocking boat before stepping on solid ground again. Kent, Christy and I returned for the second time to Mojsa, our favorite cheap and fancy restaurant in Puno's plaza. Here we shared our "last supper" and reminisced over the great times spent together in the previous two weeks of wandering adventure. From here my friendly Colorado allies set off on a bus south towards Arequipa and I began prepping for the
next leg of my great adventure: Bolivia.
A huge thanks to Christy and Kent for your companionship and the amazing discovery we experienced together in another world. I will never forget the great times we shared.
To everyone else thanks for keeping up and look out for tales of a border crossing and beautiful Bolivia...
Keep exploring,
Andrew
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