Freezing our Titicacas off

Today is our second 4-year wedding anniversary (since we had 2 'weddings') and for celebrating, we went to an island, had a candle-lit dinner, and dressed up and went out dancing. So here it is in more detail:

Waking up this morning at Hotel Nesther in Puno, I felt even worse. We checked out of our hotel and left most of our baggage there, then Nige had some breakfast while I tried to nibble on a few tiny pieces of bread. We considered cancelling our 2 day trip on Lake Titicaca, as my symptoms of acute mountain sickness seemed pretty bad, but we decided to go anyway. A minibus picked us up and took us down to the port, where we loaded on to a boat with about 28 others. There were about 10 other similar boats, all equally packed with tourists. We knew it would be like this, and we always hate these group package trips, but this was the easiest and most economical way to do what we wanted. It was a beatiful, crystal clear, sunny day.

Lake Titicaca, at about 3820 metres, is the world's highest navigable lake. About half of it is in Bolivia. It covers about 8300sqkm, with a maximum depth of 280m, making us feel like we were in an ocean. The name origins are uncertain, but most claim it is translated as 'Rock of the Puma' because it's supposed to be shaped like a puma (we can't see it) or 'Crag of Lead' because of its grey colour, although most of what we saw was beatifully clear blue water. Many myths and legends abound about the lake, most notably that there is an ancient city full of treasure and gold in the depths of its waters. Jacques Cousteau visited at one point to try to discover if this was true or not (he didn't find anything). Being winter and dry, the surrounding mountains and hills are yellow and brown. If it was any smaller, it could seriously be any of the ghetto lakes my brother-in-law Jeff water skis at in California or Arizona.

After about 30 minutes of slowly cruising through reed-filled waters, we arrived at one of the Islas Flotantes, islands made out of reeds that literally just float on the lake. They are made with the buoyant totora reeds from the shallows of the lake. Many layers of the reeds are piled on top of each other and are constantly replenished on the top as they rot away on the bottom. In addition to the islands themselves, the people also make their homes and boats out of the reeds. The native Uros people inhabit these islands, and have done so for many centuries. They make their living from fishing and, of course, tourism. Luckily, our boat of 30 tourists was the only one to arrive at this particular island. Everyone was supposed to take a seat (on small 'benches' made out of the reeds) and the guide Alfonso explained about the lives of the Uros people. But Nigel and I only paid half attention as we wandered around and spoke to one of the little boys (about 3 years old, and only spoke Aymara, not Spanish, from what we could tell). He immediately came up to Nigel and gave him a big huge hug. Of course Nigel tried to hide the fact that he was recoiling from the child's green snotty nose and filthy hands and face. The boy took a keen interest in Nigel's gloves (it was freezing but sunny), pulled them off of him, but them on himself, then clapped his hands at the whole adventure. It was very cute.

It was all a bit too cheesy as the island was clearly set up only for tourists, even though about 10 families live on this particular island. It was bizarre walking around on the reeds, which feel bouncy like foam. We were offered to have a ride on one of their traditional reed boats, and although there was a small fee, we said what the hell. It is made from tightly woven dried reeds, and it's amazing how it is all held together by itself. It is powered by the rowing abilities of one many with one oar, and as a result is extremely slow. He let us stop at the school on one of the bigger floating islands, where we were welcomed into one of the 2 classrooms. The children were all dressed in uniforms: skirts, sweaters, hats and braided hair for the girls, and pants, shirts, vests and hats for the boys. Granted not all of them had shoes on, and most were pretty dirty, but they were cute nonetheless. One boy even had a Harry Potter backpack, and one girl had a Barbie backpack. All of the others had woven bags. The kids treated us to songs in about 6 different languages: Spanish, Quechua & Aymara (both native languages), English (a very funny version of 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star'), French and Japanese. It was very entertaining. While they were singing, I noticed on one of the walls several letters and photos hanging up. They were pen-pal letters from kids, I think mostly in America.

We were then slowly paddled to another one of the Islas Flotantes, but we didn't really pay too much attention here as it was mainly just stands of tourist stalls. It was then a 3 hour boat ride further out into the lake to Isla Amantaní. It wasn't the most pleasant boat ride, feeling the way I did, but at least the water was calm for the first 2.5 hours. This is a fairly large island but only inhabited by about 4000 people, all scattered among the 8 or so different communities. The community we arrived at has about 70 family homes, with probably at least 8 people living in each home. It is small, and each home (made of mud bricks, reeds, and metal roofs) has several farm plots. The 'neighbourhood' is terraced and the homes gradually go up the side of the mountain. There are no roads or vehicles on the island.

We got off the boat and were met by a group of local women, all dressed up in their traditional gear: a brightly coloured, very poofy skirt, a white top with intricate flourescent embroidery, and a black scarf/veil thing also with bright flourescent embroidery. How they couldn't be freezing with their bare legs, I'll never know. The 30 of us on the boat were then distributed among these locals for our overnight homestay. Luckily, Nigel and I went to a family by ourselves. We were introduced to one of the girls of the family, maybe about 17 years old, but we really have no idea. She led us up a steep hill to their home, which was luckily one of the first homes on the hill and closest to the port. I don't think I could have walked much further (sounds pathetic, I know, but anyone who has suffered from altitude illness will empathize with me!).

We were introduced to the family. Reyna (not sure on spelling) and her husband are the heads of the house. They live with their 4 children (ages roughly 8, 5, 2, & 1 month old) and Reyna's 3 sisters (ages roughly 17, 14 and 12) and brother (aged about 15). Their home consits of 3 very small 'buildings' which are really just rooms. One is for Reyna, her husband and the 4 kids, one is for Reyna's 4 siblings, and the third is for the tourists. They are made in the traditional style and have packed dirt for floors. They all face a small little stone courtard and are blocked off from the rest of the property by a low stone wall. They have an outhouse, a few plots of farmland, one sheep, and one donkey.

I sat and chatted to Reyna while she knitted something out of alpaca wool and nursed her teeny tiny baby. Luckily she speaks fluent Spanish, as most of the islanders speak only Quechua. Nigel hung out with the 8 year old Jesús (the only one of the children´s names we understood), his 15 year old cousin, and their 2 month old puppy while the boys made a kite out of a plastic bag and sticks (which actually turned out to fly perfectly). We watched the darling little 5 year old girl finish her chore of washing laundry, completing the task while smiling, laughing, skipping and singing the whole time. It was so interesting speaking to Reyna about her life and the life of the islanders. I was more thankful for my Spanish skills (or lack thereof!) at this time than at any other time in my life, because without them I would not have been able to speak to her at all. She grew up in this house, as well as her parents and grandparents, maybe even further back than that. One month ago she had her 4th child right there on the dirt floor of her home, just like the other 3. No doctor came to visit, but she said there is a medicó available at times. At times she goes to Puno to buy fruit and sometimes knitting wool and she says she enjoys this very much, but does enjoy living on the island.

A while later we were served lunch: a delicous vegetable soup with quinua in it, a Peruvian grain, as well as tarot and potatoes and fresh mint tea (sadly, I couldn't stomach more than a few mouthfulls, but I explained why so hopefully I didn't offend them). Nige was a trooper and ate as much of mine as he could.

Later in the afternoon we were supposed to meet up with our guide to climb the hills in the centre of the island to see the ruins on top and watch the sunset. By this time it was quite windy and very very cold. There was no way we were making it up that huge mountain, so we stayed at the home and actually had a siesta. Waking up around 6:00, we felt much better but were frozen to the bone and just stayed under the 7 wool blankets on the bed. Jesús (the 8 year old) and the 5 year old girl came in with the 2 year old and skipped and jumped around while chatting to us. Jesús brought in some of his schoolbooks and practiced his Spanish alphabet with us. The kids speak Spanish at school and Quechua at home.

Around 7:00 we were served a delicious dinner by candlelight (there being no electricity) of potato soup, rice and a potato/vegetable mix, with fresh mint tea afterwards. Being too cold to do anything, we hopped back into bed with every item of clothing we had, including jackets. Around an hour later, I was yanked out of bed from a deep sleep, stood on the ground and 2 of the older girls started putting all of these clothes on me. It turns out that both Nigel and I were to dress up in traditional clothing to attend the evening´s fiesta. Nigel donned a poncho and woolen hat, and I put on about 3 layers of thick, heavy skirts, an embroidered shirt, an extremely tightly wound waist belt of colourful stripings, cinched into place to rob me of my last breaths, and a black veil/scarf. All of this we put on top of the 5 layers of clothing we already had on, and all of it had a distinct odour which we´ll just call ´Peruvian.´ For once, I felt warm. We followed the girls out into the full moon light and trudged halfway up the mountain to the ´civic centre´ for the fiesta. Inside there was a live Peruvian band, beers and sodas, and lots of dancing. Everyone was dressed up, Peruvians and tourists alike. Cheesy as it was, it was actually a lot of fun, and everyone was a good sport about dancing. The Peruvian girls were crazy though, and would spin us around and whip us around corners so quickly. We asked the older (17) girl if she wanted a drink, and she shyly but enthusiastically asked for a beer! When most of everyone had cleared out, we finally left for the night, again following the girls down the hill by the light of the moon. We fell into bed around 10:30, the latest night we´ve had in probably 2 weeks.

So, we did have an island trip, a candlelit dinner, dress up and dancing for our anniversary, just in the traditional way.