Puno and Lake Titicaca

On the road again. It was an eight hour bus ride to Puno - one we weren't looking forward to.  "It's on a public bus" said Guido and we pictured one of the local buses crowded with locals, many standing and small hard seats.  Of course that is what he wanted us to expect - to soften the blow of a long trip and the joy we felt when the coach turned up with comfy seats, space and foot rests (and a loo - essential as the only time the bus stopped was to change the driver).  It was an interesting trip:

• Through little agricultural communities - the corn had been harvested, stalks and grass had been pulled together into little haystacks.  Each family owns their own plot of land for growing food, but there is also communal land for grazing stock.
• The cows are tethered as there are no fences, and I guess they may be tempted to wander across the roads.  The sheep seem to wander around, as do the few donkeys and horses we saw.
• A lot of houses are less than half finished - revealing the impact of taxes on owners of fully finished houses.
• Little cemeteries are in abundance, some surrounded by a stone fence, others lovingly tended, with stones painted bright blue and little gardens.
• The mountains - at times I could picture sitting at the orchard in Central Otago across the brown grass to the snow capped hills of Mt Pisa.  It was so similar!  The difference is that its winter here - and it is greener in summer as it is the rainy season - quite the reverse to New Zealand.
• There were logs piled along the road - not many, and a few wilding pines growing up the hills.

It's a photographers nightmare, sitting on a double decker bus that is being driven over a fairly bumpy road, intermittent judder bars, and the continual power poles and wires that are always placed strategically where the best photo could be taken.  We did our best!!

We arrived in Puno - higher altitude than Cusco.  It was dark and we were hungry, so we checked in and went into the central plaza for a meal.  I am impressed that each night Guido our guide organises a place for dinner - not compulsory - but most of us went because we wanted the company and a safe place to eat.  The central square was quite lovely by night - most of the buildings (except for the cathedral) are about 100 years old.

The morning came and it was cold and rather early when we were met by our tuk tuk drivers for the ride down to Lake Titicaca. It was a fairly hair raising trip - the driver had no respect for red traffic lights, pedestrians or cars. We were the last to leave the hotel, and we were convinced the driver thought it was a race.  At one point we were sitting first equal but others then cottoned on and we eventually finished fourth (there was some pretty heavy breathing going on behind us when we were pipped at the post).

The boat that took us around the lake was rather a concoction - the seats came from a bus, there was a toyota steering wheel and column and the original toyota ignition key.  There was no safety briefing (the lake is a maximum of 280 metres deep and about 10 degrees) though we did notice life jackets piled up behind the back seat.  There was no possibility of a race with other boats, ours was the slowest on the lake.

Leaving Puno there was some lovely scenery, the lake was calm and reflections of the little houses, hills and country side would have made a great jigsaw.  We saw a number of birds (coots, seagulls and ducks) and a few jumping fish.

Our first stop was a little floating village - population 20.  We were welcomed with open arms by the locals who showed us how their houses were made (foundation of a root that floats like a cork, long pieces of wood providing the structure covered by layers of grass).  Someone suggested it could be an idyllic lifestyle and I agreed on a beautiful day it could be peaceful for one day.  But then I thought of the wet weather (when plastic is put over the roof to stop it from leaking), the rebuilding of the village when the foundations start to decompose, living in a little grass hut in a storm on a rough lake, having to catch your food daily, and getting up in the middle of the night to go outside for a pee.  I admire the residents for keeping their culture alive, it is quite admirable.

We were shown into one of the residents houses -  a double bed took up three walls, clothes hung in plastic bags on hook and the floor space was only enough for one person to stand at a time.

We also were taken out on a waka (my name) which was beautifully constructed of reeds.  

We stopped at another island for lunch.  This one wasn't floating and was quite large.  A steep cobbled path led to our restaurant and it took about thirty minutes to climb up it - huffing and puffing due to the high altitude - its another 400 metres or so higher than Cusco.  We made it to the square which had a wonderful view over the lake to the snow covered mountains in the distance. We dined el fresco on vegetable soup and fried bread (yum), trout and mint tea.

The local guide had suggested prior to leaving the boat a walk down to another harbour "we can either do a 50 minute walk or a longer one that takes one hour forty minutes" he said.  I think most of us thought - neither lets go straight back to the boat - but that didn't seem to be an option and we settled on the shorter walk.  After climbing the steep hill, I think it was wise not to go back that way.  Instead we  followed a cobbled stone path that gently wound its way down to the waters edge, past a herd of sheep, goats and magnificent views (that reminded many of us, about our visits to Europe).

Over lunch the local guide told us some interesting facts:

• Women wear five petticoats which can be any colour, but the top skirt must be black and the top shirt must be red.
• Men are required to knit a hat before asking a women to marry him.  He knew of someone who was asked to knit four hats before his proposal was accepted.  The hats were beautifully knitted, exquisite is the word I thought of, and were done on a very fine needle - they would have taken ages particularly as they were also patterned.
• The families rotate who cooks the meals for the tour groups.  This means that the income is shared fairly around all the community.

On the way back, we floated past hotels built on large floating islands.  Apparently it costs about $300 US for a one night stay.

In the evening we were treated to a dancing show over dinner.  Impressive. 

Walking back go the hotel we saw the cutest little police dog...

It was an early night for all of us - as we had a 4.30 wake up call to catch the bus to La Paz at 5.15.  I am longing for a sleep in - but wouldn't miss this adventure for a few more minutes in bed.