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Published: August 5th 2009
After taking a day to recover, check emails and do laundry in Cusco we boarded a
First Class tour bus to Puno. The bus was set to stop at several Inca sites en route. We had pretty much enough of Inca sites and were probably the least enthusiastic tourists on the trip. It was a bi-lingual trip though, so we did at least improve our Spanish comprehension! Although given that it was a nine hour bus trip we were grateful for the opportunity to stretch our, still stiff, legs. As we went over the mountains on the bus we again noticed the altitude as the bus went higher than we had been on the Inca Trail. Still both with dodgy tummies we were cursing ourselves for arranging a trip so soon after the trek. The views from the bus however were amazing. The common reoccurring image in all the local villages was a football pitch, always with 3 or 4 kids playing on it. Fresh from the mountain scenery we then drove into Juliaca, the main industrial city in south Peru and the contrast was startling. It was market day and there were so many people milling about, taking bicycle taxis,
buying their weeks supplies.
Puno was approximately an hour further south. As we hopped off the bus we found a taxi to take us to our hotel. We were weary travellers in need of a good feed and a long nights rest. Sadly, our Lake Titicaca tour start time of 7.30am put paid to our plans of a sleep-in. We rose and boarded our tour operator’s bus. After picking up several other Spanish-speaking tourists we arrived at a chaotic harbour. It took a while to figure out which boat we should get on, and we had to walk across three other boats to get into it. Once inside, the guide launched into some rapid Spanish. While I surprised myself with my general understanding of it, I quietly prayed that an English version would follow. It did, but it was only about 50%!o(MISSING)f the Spanish version, so we prepared to tune in to both versions.
First stop for the boat was at the floating
Uros Islands. These are man-made islands, made by intentionally planting 4 strong roots in the lake bed and then piling reeds on ropes that criss-cross between the rooted stalks. It can take 1-2years to
build your own island. It was weird to step off the boat on to the soft padded reeds, but they are about two metres thick, so we knew we wouldn’t step through. Everything on the island is made of reeds, and for 30minutes we were encouraged to snoop about in the huts and spend time negotiating to buy some of their products. We were also told about the islands divorce proceedings - they basically get a big saw and cut themselves off from the larger island. Then nominate a president, put down a few anchors and voila, they are a new island! Apparently it is a relatively common occurrence.
Back on board the boat, we had a three hour chug toward the island of
Amantini. This would be our home for the night. While Philippe slept, I updated my diary since Machu Picchu. It was nice to relive the experience, and I know now that I have many special memories of the trek.
We arrived to a royal welcome on the Island of Amantini. The local president was at the harbour together with the Amantini women who would be our hosts for the night. They were dressed in
traditional Aymara costumes and looked stunning. We were allocated to Vitoria’s house, and after a breathless walk uphill, we were delighted to arrive at her pink house. Even I had to stoop to get through their tiny doorways, but it was clean and proper, and had its own bathroom facilities (apparently not a given on this trip!).
We ate a simple lunch of fried cheese, tomato and potato as Philippe grappled with his Spanish to communicate with the family and the other couple who were staying in the house. That afternoon we shunned the tour to the Inca site, and instead played with the family children and wandered around the communal fields on the island. The sun was shining and the landscape was beautiful.
After dark we returned to the simple family dining room and were entertained by the young children of the house. Marie Cruz, Jocelyn and John Clinton sang us songs in Quechua and Spanish, and had such a look of innocence and joy about them that I could barely compare them with European children of the same age. We had brought copybooks, colouring pencils and some chocolate as a gift to the family. They were
so grateful for these small presents that we ended up feeling embarrassed. Dinner was vegetable soup followed by rice and a vegetable stir fry. They don’t eat much meat on the island as they don’t have much livestock. Tourism is their main trade and when that is on a slow season the men travel to the mainland to find work - often staying away from their families for long periods of time.
After dinner we were invited to attend a party in the local village hall. Vitoria and her daughter dressed us up in traditional Aymara costumes. Philippe looked great in his poncho! At the hall Vitoria proudly told us that her eldest son, Washington, was in the band that was playing up a storm. Philippe danced with Vitoria and little Jocelyn dragged me up. The dances lasted forever, but reminded me of a
ceili at Irish college. After 20minutes of bouncing around at 4000mtrs above sea level we were out of breath and ready for bed - it is better than any gym work out!
Breakfast was at 7am. It was a simple pancake and some bread with no butter. We thanked the family for their hospitality
and made our way back to the boat. A short hour later we were on the island of
Taquile, strolling up the hilly pathway to the town centre. The town was celebrating the feast of
San Santiago, and was an explosion of colour. There were dances in the central square by local men and women with multiple feather dusters on their hats. The square was surrounded by more market stalls to buy the local textiles. The interesting thing about this island is that the men do the knitting. This was noticeable in the colours used in the handcraft, no pink in sight! After a talk on the history of the island we sat down to fish and chips, Taquilian style. We had a stunning view of Lake Titicaca and were entertained by some small children playing outside the window. After lunch we completed our walk across the Island and I was glued to watching some local children contentedly playing with a plastic bag kite. Another child was feasting on an orange and I could tell he was truly savouring it. Again I found myself drawing the comparison with European kids of the same age. The Taquilian children wouldn’t have a
clue what to do with a Nintendo DS, and appeared all the better for it!
We boarded our boat at the harbour on the opposite side of the island. It was a 3 hours trip back to Puno. As the sun shone we sat atop the boat and chatted with a nice Spanish couple who were on their honeymoon. Their next stop was Machu Picchu, and we were able to answer all their questions. As the group up top expanded the language switched to Spanish. We were surprised at how much we were still able to follow. Amantini and Taquile were very special tours, particularly getting to know the local people, but one of the most unexpected things about this trip was how it improved our language skills.
Next stop is La Paz, Bolivia. Hopefully we will be able to put some of this newfound Spanish into practice!
Thank you all for your emails while we were out of touch. We are disappointed to be missing so much at home, but it is great to hear about it all by mail!
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Eileen
non-member comment
The costumes reminded me of your Irish Dancing costume. I hope you did a few Irish Dancing steps for them. After all this altitude training you will be running up the Strickeen every day when you get back. Enjoy. Still wishing I was there. Eileen