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We flew into Juliaca, and had one of the worst landings I have yet experienced. After several minutes in the toilets where I maintained my pukey-lukey reputation, we caught a mini bus to Puno. The scenery on this journey was pretty spectacular and I only wish I had taken some photos. The land is so vast and there were llamas and sheep grazing all over. The women who watched then wore the most brightly coloured clothing and many of the rocks had been spray painted as a form of advertisment. All in all very different from where we had been before.
We checked into our hotel, took full advantage of the HOT en-suite showers and put our filthy clothes in to be cleaned. We then headed out for food. On yet another Rick's craving goose chase, we searched for a chinese until Patrice couldn't handle the lack of food any more. We settled for Pizza and very good it was too. We all noticed the definite drop in temperature, and realised how ill prepared we were for it, so headed off to buy Alpaca jumpers, hats and gloves before we headed to Lake Titicaca the following day. I would like to have spent more time in Puno. It seemed very real. The women carried their babies and any belongings in brightly coloured blankets tied onto their backs, there were lots of tuk-tuks and some very scary taxi drivers.
After a cold night we got up and headed for our journey to Lake Titicaca. This involved fairly obviously, a boat. Our first stop was Uros. A cool floating island, entirely made out of reeds. We were shown how the island was made and met some of the local people, although I am still cynical and not sure that they actually live there. We caught a boat made entirely of reeds and plastic bottles, and were rowed across the lake by a man in traditional dress who just happened to be wearing a football shirt underneath. Hmmm. One more floating island and then onto our location for the night. The plan was to spend the night with a family on a remote island on Lake Titicaca, with no electricity. Sounds good we thought. Not quite what we had in mind.
We walked up the hill to meet our host families who speak Quechua as their 1st language. Communication was difficult. We mainly smiled. We were taken to our room for the night which was attached to the family's house, and met their two children who were very sweet. We were then brought an enormous meal of soup and some unidentifiable vegetables and some muna tea which is supposed to help with altitude sickness. We ate these (or tried, so as not to offend) and played with the children before heading up to the temple to meet the others. This involved more climbing (not easy at such high altitudes!) and made me more convinced I did not want to do the Inca Trek. However we met some cool people, including an irish guy who had just done it, and convinced me that I really should go. We also tried the Coca tea which is apparently illegal in other countries.
After arriving back at the bottom and trying to identify our host, we headed back to our place. By this point it was starting to get dark, so we lit our candle, played 20 questions and waited, and waited. We had our dinner and were told there would be a 'disco' at 8 that night. It was freezing and the wind was howling all around, and our candle appeared to be running low. We were beginning to compare our ordeal to a thai prison! And we had barely even seen the family, let alone spoken to them or learnt anything. Me and Patrice were up for going to bed, but at about quarter to 8 we were greeted by a knock on the door. Our hosts were stood there, with a pile of clothes in hand. After much hilarity, they helped us get dressed and we headed out into the howling wind and rain to the disco. It turns out that it was a hall with lights, a tuck-shop and a live band, but the good news was that everyone looked as silly as we did. Although the boys got off far too lightly for my liking. We got a drink and all sat round the outside. Then the dancing began. The women and men came and dragged us up to perform traditional dances that I am not sure who wanted to do less! After several hours of torture and embarrassment, we were accompanied home. I have to say that yet again I am dubious, as I am sure that i heard a tv in the family's house, and I am not sure that they weren't just showing the tourists what the tourists want to see. Not an experience I would care to repeat.
The next morning we headed back to the port and back to normality, via another pretty island where we stopped for lunch, and caught our 1st sight of very small men carrying very large loads up ridiculously high hills. We also learnt about the significance of wearing different colours to show your marital status. We then headed back to Puno, where we showered, ate, used the flushable toilets and caught a cab to catch our nice tourist nightbus with one stop. Or so we thought.
previous travel blog entry
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