Based in Puno, on the Peruvian side of Lake Titicaca, we explored this great mass of water. Driving along its shores, it is hard to believe it is a lake. Mountains surround it on most sides but there are times when you can only see water on the horizon. Lake Titicaca's claim to be the highest navigable lake on earth is disputed, but whatever you believe it is a very large, very deep (180m), very high (3800m) body of water. It is 40% in Bolivia and 60% in Peru. Depending on which country you are in you hear that they have the Titi and the other side have the Caca.
The lake is the centre of the Inca creation myth, and also marks one of the boundaries of the Inca Empire - in Puno both Aymara (the pre-Inca language) and Quechua (the Inca language), are spoken.
We set out on a one and half day tour of the lake´s islands by catching tricycle taxis to the port. The taxi cyclists race each other and use old fashioned horns to warn people they are approaching (must get one for cycling along Brighton seafront). Our first stop on the lake, three hours boat ride away, was Isla Taquile. Here there is loads of pre-Inca terracing for farming - they literally terrace a whole mountain side, it looks amazing from afar and is pretty impressive close up. We walked for an hour across the island, with great views over the deep blue lake, and arrived the main square. Here there was a small photo exhibition produced by the islanders (some of them were given a digital camera and photography lessons) and the resulting pics were great, especially a fantastic close-up shot of a llama with a mouthful of grass - they have the funniest expressions... The people on the island dress still in Spanish influenced clothing - the men in cowboy style, or with big belts and short black jackets (matador-like), and the ladies wear colourful skirts and blouses, but a black head shawl with which they exhibit a muslim decoram. They look most shy sometimes peaking out with one eye, but our guide told us they use the shawls to engage in a bit of healthy flirting
We then went onto the next island (the lake was quite rough by now), Amantani, where we would have a home stay. When we got off the boat each couple was assigned a local family to stay with. There is quite a lot of competition to host tourists, as it greatly supplements their small farming income, and the leader of the community rotates the host families to make it fair on everyone. Our host was Nelly, she was very nice and like most of the women on the island a little shy.
We were put up in a first floor extension to the main house - it was basic but clean and cosy with a teeny tiny door, that even Angie had to bend down to get through. The toilet was in corrugated iron hut out across the fields from the house. All host families have these type of tourist toilet (their own lavatory is much more basic) and they are painted bright orange, meaning that the hillside looks rather strange dotted with little coloured huts.
We had dinner with the family in the evening and used our rudimentary spanish and just-learnt Quechua phrases on them. There was the mother, father, Nelly, her two younger sisters and younger brother. The meal was quite tasty (soup, fried cheese, rice, yams, potatoes (of which they grow dozens of types) and herbal tea) especially as the kitchen was so basic. A mud floor with a rickety shelf to hold a few food items and an earth oven in which they light a fire and cook with pans on the ´hob´(holes in the roof of the oven). We had a little table and benches at one end of the kitchen, but the rest of the family just ate one their laps perching around the edge of the small room.
As part of the stay you are encouraged to bring gifts for the family and after dinner we gave them some food (sugar, rice, beans, pasta, cooking oil), toilet roll and coloured pencils, pens and paper for the kids. Unfortunately we had given the best kids stuff to the 13 year old girl earlier before we realised there was also a 9 year old boy in the household. Luckily Darren had brought some Positive Sounds and flyerCentral stickers along so we gave these to him. The whole family examined them in great detail and probably thought `what the hell are they giving us stickers for?` The boy seemed to like them though and I`m sure he`ll be trading them at school for something better.
In the evening we were promised a festa in the village hall and were to be togged up in traditional clothes for it. Angie had an embroidered top and then 2 layers of heavy skirts all fixed on with a cumerband cum corset, that was laced tightly around the rib cage (making it hard work walking up the steep path to the hall). Darren got away lightly with just a Clint Eastwood style poncho but had to wear the wooly pointy hat he`d brought with him, just to complete the look (the look being bumbling tourist trying to blend in). At the village hall, the bright lights (no disco lighting at this party) showed a traditional band on the stage and loads of other togged-up tourists sitting round the edges. The band kicked off and our hosts got us up to dance. Nelly was obviously oblivious to Darren´s previous dancing escapades, not having access to our travel journal or indeed even the internet, but she soon whipped him into shape and before long he was being asked to dance by a variety of wizened old croans. Angie got up for the next dance which seemed to be their version of the conga and involved being pulled at speed around the hall along a snaking route. Before long however, we realised we were two of only four tourists left in the hall (not surprisingly most of the others made a quick exit after the first dance) and it was only 9.30! Time for an early night though which was well needed.
The next day we had breakfast with the family and then bid our farewells and set of back to Puno via the Uros Islands. These are literally floating islands made from reeds and have been in existence for some 700 years (since the original inhabitants escaped from the Incas). The island are built on reed bed roots and anchored to the lake bed by posts. They simply put new reeds on top when needed and move the islands around by simply removing the anchor posts and pushing the whole structure through the water. The main trade on the islands we visited is tourism but across the lake are other reed islands not open to tourists and they survive soley by fishing and shooting birds. Apparently there is a giant frog that lives around the islands (weighing 3 kg, 50cm long!) but fortunately (for Angie´s love of frogs), they consider these amphibians sacred and do not eat them.
We returned from all this traditional cultural experience to the mainland and indulged in an afternoon watching satellite TV in our hotel room.
We should mention that two of the icons of Andean life - pan pipes and llamas - have been slowly increasing in frequency over the last 10 days, until they have now reached a crescendo! In the restaurants in Puno, you are subjected to folklore shows which consist of loud, non-varying single beat drumming, a wide variety of panpipes and small guitar-like instruments played so fast that the musicians hands are just a blur. The quality varies from just about bearable for short periods of time to the Fast Show comedy sketch variety! And llamas and alpacas (smaller, woolier) are everywhere - in the fields and also in the tourist areas where women in traditional dress pose with a full grown and a baby llama (even cuter than a lamb) for photos.
We left Puno with all 4 wheels of our bus firmly fixed on the tourist trail, heading through the spectacular Andean scenery for Cusco, Peru`s historical centre.
Puno Hotels
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