With the light to carry on

I would love to tell you that I spent every possible moment in Cusco doing cultural/touristy thing but alas that would be a lie. Although after the Lares trek and Machu Pichu I believe some rest was required. The two highlights of Cusco round two for me was meeting David and Rosie at Norton´s bar, and then getting a recommendation to stay at their hostel The Wild Rover and my second blue cheese burger at Papachos. Monday morning we hopped on a bus to Puno. During that seven hour drive I watched the most movies of the entire trip. We packed our day pack that night and left the rest of our luggage at the hotel.

At 8am we took a bicycle taxi to the lake (I can’t remember the official name but basically it’s a bicycle with a two seater bench in front). Luckily for our poor driver the ride was mostly downhill.  Lake Titicaca is the highest altitude lake in the world, at 3812 m above sea level. It was the center of Incan  civilization, and is shared by Peru and Boliva. According to our Peruvian guide, 60% is in Peru and 40% is in Boliva, while according to our Bolivian guide 45% is in Boliva and 55% is in Peru. I’m fairly certain that no one knows for sure!

We hopped in a boat and went to Uros Island first. Uros is a “floating” island, meaning the locals find a spot where the water is only a couple meters deep and start building an island using peat and reeds. It takes about a year to complete one island, and they typically relocate every decade or so. There are a few of these islands, but we’re not quite sure how many are real, and how many show up just for the tourists then go back to Puno once the tourists leave.  Apparently Uros is the real deal, but our group did not really enjoy the island. They was a distinct feeling of “you tourists are here to give us your money so hand it over” making us fairly uncomfortable. We did a quick ten minute trip around the island on the “mercedes-benz” of reed boats, using a pole and paddle. They half dressed us up in local clothing for pictures and then we were on our way again.

Our next stop was two hours away, Taquile island (a proper island this time) After a 30 minute breathless hike up the hill we stopped at the town square. Taquile island is unique because in order to attract women, the men must be skilled knitters. Each man has to knit a hat for himself, totally unique from family to family. If a girl is interested, she will ask for his hat to examine the quality of his work. For lunch we had rainbow trout from the lake (originally from Canada though) and some quinoa soup. We had a scenic walk down the hill to the other side of the island, before hopping back on the boat to our next stop. I had a nap on the rooftop and promptly got a sunburn on my face.

We arrived at Luquina around an hour and a half later and were instantly greeted by a boy with a drum and man with a flute. To get into the village proper we had to walk uphill, and the floutist was huffing a puffing not too long into our ascent. Luckily he was joined by another floutist halfway up so they could alternate breathing. We met our new Mamas (for the homestay) and quickly started a game of soccer. I only managed to last for five minutes, but I still managed to (accidentally) trip one guy twice and valiantly defend the goal before I was reduced to debilitating coughs. After the soccer game we were dressed up in the full traditional garb of the area, including 3 skirts, a long sleeve shirt, a fairly wide belt, a hat and a yarn whip of sorts with pompoms. We then watched as the locals demonstrated a local dance. Then we were expected the replicate it! I think except for the the fact that I knocked my own hat off five times (it only sits on your head) I did fairly well. It was a complicated line dance that involved swinging the yarn pompom whip and specific steps that I couldn’t´t remember once it was our turn to dance.

After the dance we went back to our new mamas houses. Vicky and my new mama´s name was Stephanie. She´s 27 years old and lives with her mother (Teresa), father (Francisco), sister (Ilda) and her puppy (Tarzan). We mostly hung out in our room until supper, at which point we had conversation in a combination of Aymara, Spanish and English. After supper we taught Stephanie how to play war (the card game) with our very very limited spanish. We played until around 9, when the solar power ran out (due to the ginormous rainstorm) and we were plunged into darkness. The next morning Vicky and I helped out to the best of our abilities with the chores. We helped with the bread for breakfast (but managed to make the wrong shapes), fed the bulls, peeled potatoes, tied up the sheep, and de-shelled broad beans. We were fed a HUGE lunch of many different types of carbs, before it was time to shuffle back to the boat.

Since Lake Titicaca is the highest lake in the world, we naturally had to go for a swim. I cannon balled off the back of the boat without dipping my toe in the chilly 8 degree water first. Only one other in my group decided to take the plunge, and I think the rest of my group felt validated in their decision as soon as they saw my face upon resurfacing. I have been in much colder water, but eight degrees will give you a nice little shock no matter how much of a proud northerner you are. Once I got used to the temperature it was a fairly enjoyable swim, exempting the floating reeds that kept touching my legs.  Shortly after we arrived back in Puno we had the downpour of the trip and the streets turned into rivers. I had Alpaca for dinner since it was our last night in Peru, but I enjoyed the accompanying mashed potatoes much more.

We had a fairly uneventful eight hour bus ride to La Paz early Thursday morning. We took our last group photo at the Peru/Bolivia border. For our last meal we went to a Thai restaurant.  There were a few almost tears, and many many toasts. Since there was only seven of us we had become quite a family. We were still planning on going out for dinner the next night (minus our CEO, he had to go back to Peru), and half of us were doing the death road together so it wasn´t goodbye forever. Normally during this trip I wake up ten minutes before we leave, since I don´t require a lot of time to get ready. Just to ensure I was extra prepared for our 7:30 meeting time the next morning, I set my alarm for 6:50.

My room mates alarm went off first, which I found really confusing. After asking her the time and finding out it was 7:40, I apparently shot out of bed “As if I had a rocket up my ass”. Luckily I had packed all my belongings the night before, and I was out of the room in less than five minutes. Apparently there´s a one hour time difference between Peru and Bolivia and I forgot to change my phone. It was a 45 minute drive to the top of the death road and several hours on a bike down. We started at 4700m and went all the down to 1900m, passing through three different climate zones. The road is named the death road because it used to be the main link between La Paz and the Jungle meaning there was a fair bit of traffic. The road is moderately narrow in most places, so it was a common occurrence for larger trucks to just plummet off of the edge.  Nowadays they have a newer road connecting the capital and the Jungle, so the death road is mainly frequented by tourists on bikes.

We finished our journey a fair bit muddier and bug bitten than we began, but arrived a a hotel with a buffet and a pool. The trip down was so exhilarating, zooming down the mountain side without the breaks on almost felt like I could approach terminal velocity. Our three hour drive back to La Paz was only interrupted by one mudslide being cleared up and we were back by 6:30 pm. Upon arrival I had to grab my luggage from my old hotel, take a taxi to my new hotel, check in, sort out a locker situation, take a taxi back to my old hotel and then attempt to walk to the restaurant by myself. I met my old groups new group of  people including one new Canadian. I had a ball with their group, and I really regret that I can´t afford to continue to Brazil with them. I basically went straight to bed once I got back to the Wild Rover, and as I was waking up the next morning my roomies were going to sleep. Dorm life!

I will probably write my next blog post in the Toronto airport so keep an eye out!

Ciao

Alex

PS-Lift by Zerbin