Advertisement
Published: October 18th 2008
Edit Blog Post
Our journey through Peru brought us to Lake Titicaca on the border with Bolivia. The lake lies at 3,800 m above sea level (12,500 ft.) and is approximately 160 km long and 70 km wide at its widest. It has been inhabited for many thousands of years and has seen important civilisations on both sides of the border and on the islands which lie on the Peruvian side of the lake. Our base was the city of Puno on the lakeshore.
One of the pre-Inca civilisations near to Puno developed a very ceremonial and visible means of burying their important dead in circular towers at nearby Sillustani. The area has a magical quality about it with the towers perched on a thumb shaped headland which juts into Lake Umayo. The towers some as high as 12 metres are slightly smaller in diameter at the base than at the top and the height above sea level reaches a breathtaking 4,000 m (13,100 ft.). The area is quite bleak but it has a stark beauty we found very impressive and affecting. It reminded me somewhat of the landscape in parts of Connemara but it had an atmosphere all of its own almost
as if the spirits laid to rest there still inhabit it.
We decided to visit Amantani one of the larger islands in lake Titicaca to see how the indigenous people live nowadays (some 10,000 of them in total) and to get some feeling for their culture. To do this we took a ferry run by the islanders themselves and stayed with a family overnight.
On the way to Amantani we visited the floating islands of Uros quite close to the city of Puno. The shores of Titicaca are covered in large reeds which have been used for centuries to make boats, houses, furniture, as a food source and to create floating islands. The islanders harvest the root system, cut it into rectangular blocks (which float on the water) and tie them together and then they anchor them with long ropes to stakes driven into the lake bottom. They then cover the floating platform with freshly cut reeds in a cross pattern. Over the years as the reeds at the bottom take on water and decay slowly, they add more and more reeds until after several years the reed "carpet" can reach a metre or more in depth. As
you walk on the island from time to time your foot sinks a little deeper in some places than others and you feel the "ground" beneath your feet moving slowly up and down on the lake surface.
Traditionally, the islanders have fished the abundant waters of the lake and have bartered the fish with the shoreline communities for the items they require. Nowadays it seems they earn most of their living from tourism but it is still an amazing experience to visit them and to think they are a part of an ancient culture which still manages to exist by adapting to the changing world around them.
On Amantani we were allocated a family with which to spend the night and brought gifts of rice and fruit (in addition to the money we paid for the night´s lodging) which we were encouraged to bring with us. The family consisted of a young woman with a baby who lived with her parents - her husband was not present while we visited and we speculated he may work in Puno during the week. The fact that we were unable to find out illustrates a problem with this kind of tourism.
A homestay is a great way to get to understand how people live but is wholly dependant on being able to communicate with the family with whom you stay. We were treated like paying guests in a separate part of the family home and we ate our meals alone apart from the family. We were made very welcome but it was not unlike staying in a bed and breakfast anywhere in the world. We know that others were able to fully take part in family life and to gain an insight into how they lived. For us the homestay was a bit of a disappointment.
We crossed Lake Titicaca at a narrow point after entering Bolivia and headed on to La Paz a spectacularly situated city at 3,600 m in a canyon created by the Choqueyapu river. As you approach the city by road you drive through the slum city or shanty town of El Alto which stretches for kilometres along the plain. La Paz appears suddenly below you as the plain gives way to a deep canyon some 200 metres below. Bolivia is a very poor country and the evidence is all around you in La Paz.The streets
are full of markets selling everything imaginable and the most characteristic sight is in many ways the shoeshine "boys" their faces coveered by black balaclavas shining shoes for pennies.
The houses cling to the steeply sided canyon walls and walking the streets at this elevation it leaves you breathless after only a few metres. It is very polluted because of the many buses spewing out diesel fumes. We were glad to leave after a few days and we broke our journey south to the Argentine border in Tupiza a twon surrounded by scenery straight out of a western film. In this area, the outlaws Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid are reputed to have met their end although I have seen claims made by Argentina and Uruguay as well! Inspired by their exploits, Alice and I decided to try our hand (our more accurately our behinds!) at horse riding. Having signed up at our hotel and been introduced to our guide for the following day, a trustworthy looking young man, of about 25 who assured us we would be in good hands with him with quiet well behaved horses and great scenery we were quite excited.
Imagine our
surprise the next morning, when we were greeted by a boy of about 12 who walked with us silently through the streets of Tupiza until he stopped at a door and knocked. We waited for a minute until a woman answered and handed him some coins and looking at our sceptical and no doubt frightened faces she assured us, in good English, that we were in good hands because he had been riding all his (very short) life. He crossed the street and flagged down a passing bus and it transpired that he had been waiting for his mother to give him the bus fare for himself and us so that he could bring us to the stables.
We were introduced to our horses Gaucho and Chingoro and without a safety talk, the offer of a riding helmet or even the briefest hint how to steer the animals, off we went. After the intial terror of being back on a horse for the first time in 20 odd years I began to rediscover my inner cowboy and began to vaguely recollect the basics I learned all those years ago. After an intial nrervous silence from Alice she soon was
into her stride and we could enjoy the magnificent scenery. The three hours passed very enjoyably but even with a very comfortable saddle we began to feel quite saddle sore as we made for home. Now I understand why John Wayne walked like that!
Advertisement
Tot: 0.103s; Tpl: 0.012s; cc: 7; qc: 44; dbt: 0.0789s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb