Lake Titicaca!

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Well, Arequipa wasn't quite over with the Colca Cañon trek. I still had a few hours left in Arequipa, so I decided to meet up with some new friends I had met on the bus for dinner and drinks. When I say friends, I knew a few of the guys, and they told me other friends were coming, so I assumed (stupidly) that it would be a mixed group of guys and girls. When I arrived, I realized I had an awkward harem of like 9 boys and myself. Which is fine, of course, but I'm craving a little female friendship at this point. I don't think I've talked to a woman, other than travel agents, that is, in two solid weeks! Being a giant group of testosterone-driven men, they obviously wanted to set out in search of alpaca meat, guinea pigs, and steaks, and we ended up going to a Peruvian steakhouse to satisfy their animalistic urges. Literally, not a single thing on the menu was edible for a vegetarian, so I batted my little eyelashes at the waiter and begged him for a special plate. I think I charmed him with a few stupid jokes about all the carnivores I was out with, and he charged me a solid $2 for a delicious tortilla de verduras, a huge egg omelette with veggies and rice.

After dinner, we decided to have a few drinks at my hostel, even though it was Monday, not a huge party night in Arequipa. It was a very interesting group--we had 2 guys who were shockingly from Chicago so we talked Illinois shop for a while, 2 Israeli guys, one of whom really liked yelling at people over very tiny things, an incredibly awkward Quebecoise gamer, and a few other Americans from various lugares. Needless to say, deciding on a drinking game was complicated, as every group knew similar games with VERY different rules. We ended up playing some bizarre game where you make car noises (I was with boys, what can I say...) but eventually I convinced them to play Circle of Death. After we finished the game (I should mention that I was drinking a little beer--with the altitude so intense you really only need a drink to feel tipsy--while the boys were drinking bottles upon bottles of rum) we decided to go to a nearby bar called Deja Vu to do a little dancing. It was kind of like a little techno dance club with an odd mix of Peruanos seeking gringos and gringos seeking Peruanos, so it was definitely good people watching. (My American friend with a lazy eye was the most successful, dancing and smooching two peruanas in one night! LOL) Anyway, we danced until the wee hours, someone stole my sweater, and then we all went home to collapse after such a long day. (Other than the sweater lossage though, it was a great night.)

The next day, since the incredible altitudes of Arequipa apparently weren't enough for me, I decided to subir aún más to the port city of Puno, a popular tourist salida to the famous islands of Lake Titicaca. (Can you tell my English is beginning to deteriorate the longer I stay in a pais hispanohablante?) I took an overnight bus to Puno, which worked out wonderfully, because I didn't have to pay to stay in a hostel nor did I have to lose a day traveling. We left around 10:30 from Arequipa and arrived in Puno a little too bright and early at 5 am. (I'm becoming an expert traveler... I've begun to take earplugs and an eye mask with me everywhere I go, and I'm able to fall asleep at the fall of a hat! Perhaps that also has to do with my body's lingering hatred of me and desire to rest up as much as possible.) I had arranged for a woman to meet me at the bus station, as many robberies are reported late at night and early in the morning, especially for someone like me who's traveling solita. Her name was Lourdes, and she was waiting for me as anticipated with a gigantic winter coat on. (Have I mentioned that Puno is ridiculously cold?) Fortunately, I'm from Chicago, so I wasn't too terrible affected by the frío, but Lourdes was horrified and kept telling me, "Hay que abrigarte!" She dropped me off at a shady little hostel (Don't worry--they're all pretty shady...) to eat breakfast and wait for a bus to take us to the harbor. We were served the typical horrid breakfast of bread and marmelade with tea, and, being hugely sick of bread and marmelade, I begged the hostel owner for an egg, just one little egg, and fortunately, he obliged.

Our bus set out around 7:30 in the morning with a group of approximately twenty tourists, half hispanohablante and half anglohablante, so our guide Manú did his best to translate as rapidly as possible in los dos idiomas. Our first stop was Las Islas Flotantes, or the Floating Islands, which are literally man-made islands in the middle of Lake Titicaca. Apparently, the Uros people had to flee from the violent Inca and Collas tribes and decided a great place to live was in the middle of a gigantic lake. They use the roots of reeds as a basis for these islands, tying the dirt and reed roots together with rope and then piling reeds on top. They anchor the islands down so they don't drift too far away, but every once in a while the anchors come loose and a ship has to be hailed to drag them back to their designated spot in the island. Also, the maximum number of families on any given floating island is 10, and if more than 10 families begin to occupy an island they cut it in half and let the other island float away. Crazy, right?

Anyway, we stopped at two of these islands to learn about their lifestyles, meet with the locals, take a trip in one of their reed boats, and, of course, to buy their little trinkets. After an hour or two we set off again, this time for a REAL island called Amantí where we would be spending the night with local families. When we arrived on the island, it was like stepping into another world. In spite of the recent surge of tourism, they've maintained their way of live for centuries without too much corruption from the mainland, and the dress, food and music was completely new for me. We were introduced to our families and then we followed them to their small houses towards the top of the island. Since each family takes two or three people, I paired up with another solo traveler named Jonathan, a super nice Swiss guy who also happens to be a Lost fan, and we were island buddies for the next few days. Our families prepared us a lunch of Quinua soup with island-grown potatos before we climbed ALL the way up to the highest point of the mountain to play a game of soccer with the locals and watch the sunset from the Incan temples of Pachatata and Pachamama. (This part was incredibly beautiful--you'll get an idea when I post the pictures to facebook.) Apparently if you walk around Pachatata temple three times counter clockwise, a wish will come true, so Jonathan and I made the quick trip and are hoping for the best. 😊

We climbed down the steep hill in the dark, which was a bit scary, and relaxed for about an hour before dinner, a potato stew with mixed local vegetables. After dinner, we were told there was a dance in honor of the islands'guests, but it was mandatory for the foreigners to wear traditional attire to attend or they would receive a multa (fine). Jonathan was dressed up in a poncho with a native hat, and the women had a much more complicated dress--we had two different skirts, a blouse, an incredibly long and intricately embroidered shawl and a large wrap-around belt. Since it was so cold on the island, I put the outfit on top of about 4 sweatshirts and I ended up looking like a hunchback with all the hoods bunched up behind me, lol. We walked for about half an hour to the party, danced to local music with our families and returned a few hours later, totally exhausted. It was a wonderful night.

I woke up in the morning feeling sick, AGAIN. I'm fairly certain it was the water from Peru that made me sick the first time, as they serve mate de coca everywhere you go, a special tea for altitude sickness and stomach problems. I always asked if the water was boiled well, but I sincerely doubt they boiled it for the requisite five minutes to kill the bacteria. At least I acclimated to the water, however painful it might have been, and figured I was safe for the rest of the trip. Unfortunately, on the islands they drink water from Lake Titicaca, a different source with different bacteria, so I was feeling pretty miserable after the mate in Amantí as well. Fortunately, after my first illness I put together a pharmacy in my backpack, so within a few hours I was feeling drugged and relatively comfortable.

We ate a breakfast of panqueques and more tea before heading to the boat. Our host families accompanied us, spinning their yarn the entire time (the women never stop spinning yarn) and waving us goodbye as we set sail for Taquile, another island about an hour away. Taquile has very different but equally fascinating customs, particularly for the men. They take great pride in their knitting, and spend months on end weaving hats with different meanings. (Single men wear red and white hats while married men wear red hats.) In order to ask for a woman's hand on the island, the man needs to bring his hat to the girl's father, the father pours water into the hat, and if it comes out of the hat too quickly, the man is denied the daughter's hand but may come again in six months with a new hat to try again. After three unsuccessful attempts to knit a tight hat, the man may no longer attempt to win the daughter's hand. While men knit, the women weave, and must make their husband's intricately woven belts. The belts have great significance, as they represent the 12 months of the year and the husbands´tasks for said year. For example, if the wife weaves a house for one of the 12 months, it means the husband must make the wife a new house within the year. So while machismo still reigns on the island, it seems that the wives have the last say. One last interesting tidbit about the Taquile culture--marriage is not a pleasant thing for the husband and wife. While the whole town celebrates, they must kneel on a rock for 8 hours each day praying, the husband and wife's hands tied together the entire time. Also, they are not allowed to sleep alone for the first few weeks of marriage. Instead, four people share a bed--the husband, the wife, the godmother and the godfather. PDAs are considered horrible things, so they can never show each other affection and finally, there is no honeymoon. A guy from Holland asked, "So why does anyone get married here?" a question we were all wondering, and our tour guide didn't have a very satisfying answer for us. "Tradition," he said, but I think if I happened to be born on that island, I would just stay soltera to avoid the horrible punishment of marriage! (I should mention Manú had some interesting answers for a few other things as well... I was running to the bathroom every 10 minutes and he told me that my illness was "psychological" and I should get over it, and then in the next breath he told our entire group that all tourists looked the same to him so he had no idea if we were all present or not, lol. Interesting...)

We hiked around the island, passing through beautiful arches signifying our movement from one small community to another, ate lunch and finally hiked down 562 huge steps to reach our boat and return to Puno. I spent a few hours relaxing before heading to the bus station, where I took another overnight bus to Cusco, arriving at the repulsive hour of 4:30 am. I met a fascinating women on the bus named Julia who works in Puno as a prosecutor specializing in rape victims. She was telling me all sorts of horrible things about the judicial corruption in Peru; for example, she was working with a 13-year-old girl from the country who had been raped by a family member. She went to the police, had all the tests done, and ended up being pregnant with this man's child. When Julia went to take the case to court, the results of all the tests had miraculously vanished, meaning the rapist had bribed the local police a sufficient amount to get rid of the proof. Now, with only the girl's word as proof against the rapist, it looks unlikely that he will go to jail at all. That was just one story--I won´t go into all of them, but suffice it to say it was hugely depressing, but I was so thankful to have met such a noble woman who wanted to help these young girls, even though she's paid very little.

Lourdes had recommended a hostel owned by a friend of hers, so two guys from a place called Marlon's House were waiting for me at the bus station when we arrived. I went with them and instantly collapsed in my bed, and I didn't wake up until well after 10. I showered, ate a banana, and set out to explore Cusco. It's a beautiful city but my first day started off horribly. As I was out of cash, I went to the ATM to take out some money, but instead of giving me large bills that normally come out of an ATM, it gave me like a ZILLION bills worth $7 each, so I obviously needed a few seconds to figure out where on earth to put this seemingly huge wad of money that was worth a grand total of $120. While I was trying to cram all the wad into my wallet, the machine sucked my card inside, so voila, my checkings account with all of my money vanished in an instant. I ran over to tourist information, located the nearest Scotiabank and ran over to plead with the bank to open the machine. Apparently, they never give back cards that have been eaten by ATMs, but I think my sobbing and pleading swayed Sr. Gutierrez. He took pity on me and sent an employee to retrieve my card. A few minutes later, it was back in my hands, and Sr. Gutierrez called me really sensitive for crying. "Wouldn't you be upset if you just lost all your money in a foreign country?" I asked him, and he agreed, he definitely would be. Jeez.

After that I went hiking in search of this delicious vegetarian restaurant recommended by my tour book, and 20 minutes later, when I arrived, I discovered that it had gone out of business. On my way back I was attacked by throngs of people selling things and charged a ridiculous amount for boletos turisticos, so I ended up relatively annoyed with the center of Cusco. It's incredibly beautiful, but it's hard to enjoy the beauty when things are totally dominated by out-of-control tourism. I signed up for a tour of the Sacred Valley tomorrow, which is supposed to be incredible, so I'm sure I'll have a very different opinion of Cusco tomorrow. I also met a nice Israeli guy staying in my hostel, so maybe we'll explore some of the less touristy places in the next few days as well. I'm going to try to book my ticket to Machu Picchu tomorrow as well as a flight to Lima, and I'll keep you posted on how that goes. There certainly is a lot of research and haggling involved in booking these things, so it might end up being a two-day affair!

Missing everyone lots and sending besos from Peru! I'll post pictures of the islas soon when I'm on a faster internet connection. (It takes about 2 minutes to load one page, so I'm thinking uploading pics is a bad idea at this particular juncture!)

Hasta pronto!

p.s. My Spanish is definitely improving while I'm down here. Numerous people have been shocked to find out I'm from the US, telling me they thought I was from a Spanish-speaking country. Very exciting for a gringa who's always paranoid her Spanish isn't up to par. 😊

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