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Sacred Titi
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Lake Titicaca lies on the border of Peru and Bolivia. We were to spend the night in the Peruvian city of Puno that sits on the shore of this massive sea. Titi means puma and Caca means grey. We also learned that it is called the Sacred Titi. This has led to writer´s block as I tried to come up with suitable innuendos, but have struggled - so any suggestions? We have decided there should be no smut in the blog - well that was until yesterday when Gill and I learned from somebody in the tour group that it is better to have your clitoris pierced north south as opposed to east west - maybe we are a bit too old for this group after all!
We arrived at Puno right in the middle of the Puno Founders parade. This seemed to involve the whole city putting on their finest
and jigging behind band after band all day, all night and most of the next day round the narrow streets.
All the bands played the same ditty (the Sacred Titi Ditty - see, no smut) and they played it non stop.
The trumpeters even had friends to substitute their trumpets, empty out the spit and slip them a swig of Pisco in the process. The marchers were certainly sustained by alcohol and probably by the odd coca leaf as well.
An early start and we were off on a boat ride to learn how the locals make their floating islands.
I don't know what I expected but I certainly didn´t expect to step off the boat onto such a soggy and unstable surface. It was certainly floating.
The islands are comprised of layer upon layer of reeds placed on a base of reed roots that let off a nasty rotting whiff with every footstep. The base lasts some 50 years provided they don´t cut it into pieces first. It seems that if a family or even an individual falls out with the community, out comes a large saw and the offenders, together with their houses, are simply cut adrift. They took pains to explain that if they were good, they were allowed to come back and the reeds could be stitched back together again - a great way to solve arguments between neighbours!
We spent time on one of the hundred or so islands (rock this time) that are in the lake
and found that the menfolk are the knitters. They make some wonderful textiles, but a man that cannot knit won´t find a wife. I guess that is a bit embarrassing because until they are married they have to wear a white and red hat. At lunch we were served by a very good looking two tone hatted lad and the girls in the group had a good giggle knowing that he was available.
Nearly three hours later
the boat arrived back in Puno - celebrations still going on - and after a slightly quieter night we set off to cross the border into Bolivia. We drove for miles and miles and never lost sight of the huge lake. We even had to cross a narrow stretch, with the bus on one raft and us in a not so speedy speed boat.
Eventually we said goodbye to the lake and arrived in Copacabana - a nice town to welcome us to Bolivia.
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