Saturday, August 18, 2007

Floating On Top Of The World...

Waking early, excited for our morning excursion, we were surprised to find breakfast was served in our room. Buttering bread and sipping citrus drinks and more instant coffee, we packed our bags, then headed out to meet our ride to the docks of Titicaca. Today, we would tour the famous floating islands of Uros and then bus along the shores of the world's highest navigable lake to Copacabana, Bolivia for more adventures...We waited outside our hotel where the train tracks to Cusco and eager three-wheeled taxis idly wait. A van came, and we climbed in, the first of ten tourists to cram aboard. The funny part was, that after an hour of tooling around town, scooping up more people, we found ourselves back at this same corner to gather the last tourist, before basically crossing the street to the port...
It was a gorgeous morning, cool and clear--the atmosphere looked so thin you could almost see the stars, and the sun's rays were strong. The harbor was a blanket of soft green algea, blown into the bay by eastern winds, and the puttering boat mowed a perfect path as Puno retreated...
Here we were, floating across Lake Titicaca, the origin of Inca mythology, the subject of so many childish giggles, and one of the most well-known natural wonders on Earth, heading to visit a culture that lives on man-made floating islands...
Lake Titicaca is not only high (3812 meters or 12,507 feet) but long (over 100 miles wide) and large (the biggest freshwater lake in South America). It's deepest depth (281 m) is still a football field above the summit of Mt. Hood back in Oregon. The Uros Islands huddle near the strait leading out of Puno Bay, and Copacabana is nestled in the V-shaped harbor on the western side of the penisula at the end of the road that spurs off the highway to La Paz. Isla del Sol is just below the second K in the map above, and next to it, Isla del Luna...
As we approach the islands, reeds appear more often in muddy bundles where birds chirp over the din of the engine...

And then, we see the people of Uros waving arms from their canoes and islands. Click the comics for a closer look...
We spent an hour on our first lucky island; many Uros on other islands were out trying to wave us in to visit theirs instead. These people are increasingly dependent on tourism to augment their income from fishing, and I got that strange feeling again, wondering if this is real or all just a show. First, we sat in a circle and got a lecture on local life, how and why they made their islands, sampling the totora reed, and then mingling amongst the huts and hatted women and their colorful goods for sale. We climbed the watchtower...
Over forty islands are currently inhabited holding two to ten families. Each island's foundation is made from blocks of totora root tied together, then layered regularly with dried reeds. They last about three decades. Although they do float, and occasionally break free, they are anchored to the lake floor...Click the comics again!
After paddling across the primary channel, we visited another island--this one actually had a restaurant and hotel! The menu was mostly fish, however, even if we had time, we weren't interested in sleeping in a reed teepee. We were still battling oncoming colds and had an afternoon bus to catch to Copacabana. But we did get another great shot of a local and her grindstone outside the welcome arch...
Although interesting, the novelty began to wear off as the sun continued to wear down on our unblocked cheeks. As we disembarked for the bay, our guide literally said that we were heading back because all the islands are the same, but one shrewd bi-lingual boater noted that the package promised three islands, so we stopped at one more on the way in. The guide was right...but this one did have some pigs! Click below again to see the floating sows of Uros!
Although apparently a pre-Incan culture with a old island building tradition, our guide said that the Spanish conquistadors really inspired the Uros to move their islands far from shore. Eking out an existence for centuries, on reeds and fish, the added tourism is clearly a blessing, much like most of Peru is experiencing--and, even though many islanders prefer their privacy, it is noteworthy how hospitable the people here are, sharing their lives with the curious eyes of outsiders...
And then, it was adios to the floating Islands of Uros, and time to put another tick on the checklist of life...
Sheltering our shivering ears, shading our sunbaked faces, we glided back to Puno...

Opting for more adventure, we skipped the van back and we hopped on a bicycle taxi, feeling giddy but guilty as our driver pumped us up into the heart of Puno...
After a solid lunch of chicken, rice, vegetables and a coke--no furry frizzled critters yet--we sniffled and coughed our way past the daytime version of the church and plaza before collecting our backpacks, taxiing to the terminal, and boarding another bus that bounced to Bolivia...
Leandra always looks good--even windblown, congested, seasick and radiated. We got the backseats to ourselves, and snapped away as we leapt past the lake and lots of local life...

Farmers were harvesting, which quilted the land into mixed squares of tall green crops, beige blankets polka-dotted with haystacks, and fallow fields of brown...
Meanwhile, dogs seemed to happily do all the dirty work with grazing flocks of livestock...
And, although ominous dark clouds and rain sheets had approached from the west and engulfed Puno, to the north, white mountains dozed in the sun passing us slower than the faster fish farms...
At the Bolivian border, we unloaded, changed our soles for bolivianos, got some scrutinizing stares and fancy new passport stamps, then strode a quarter mile down the road where our bus was waiting to complete the trip to Copacabana. A marching band was along for the ride.
No sooner had we officially stepped into our fifth South American country, then we left our mark in the surprisingly plumbed border potties. Surprise honey! Smile! Click.Where there are tourists, there are tourist services, but it was bye-bye for the border, and hello Copacabana, the adorable harbor town that serves as the access point to Isla del Sol, birthplace of the Inca gods...

Although our vacation plans included some reservations, including here, we had arrived a day early thanks to our tour packages and our efficient efforts. When we got off the bus we were at the steps of a driver-recommended hotel, and went inside to ask for a room with a view. We got exactly what we wanted except...between some sunburn, runny noses, congested lungs, two backpacks, and five flights of stairs at an oxygen depleted altitude...by the time--and I do mean time--by the time we made it to the room, we were zapped, and the backpacks just fell to the floor as we sat like weaklings, wheezing. But, this is what we saw...
The storm was approaching. Wind would soon pick up the waves and kick up the steep dusty streets, but a three quarter moon was preparing to light the half clear sky as orange sunbeams danced above and below the clouds...
We sat there for some time, recovering slowly from our breathless climb, while a sunset line divided the blackening sky from the far-off sierras where Machu Picchu and other Inca wonders hide...
Eventually, we wandered out for dinner to Jardin Bolivia, a fun restaurant, festooned in the national colors. We discovered that the costs in this country are the lowest in South America! But, we took it easy this night; every step up the steep streets was exhausting. As we walked the few blocks near our hotel, we came to the local school, where the whole town had turned out for a meeting and festival for the women's rights movement of Bolivia. We peeked in the gym and sat briefly with the locals. Then, we lifted our weary selves, and ambled on...
We were tired, but we waited until eight for this bar to open--their sign out front said they had darts, which, if you don't know me, is something I enjoy...a lot. My amazing wife was more than thoughtful, as usual, on this trip, to let me find one of my favorite games, so I could say "I threw darts in (insert country's name) once!" It's silly, but special to me, and so is Leandra (we actually found another dusty, cob-webbed board in an Arequipa bar). So, we sloped inside, just as the first bohemian locals came in to shoot pool, and threw a few plastic darts, read some of the intoxicated scribblings, and then rambled around the corner to our hotel, crawled up the fifty stairs, and curled into our cold bed--the room was nice, and affordable, but had no heat...at least it had hot water.

Tomorrow we would find a boat and motor out to Isla del Sol for a night on the island where the Inca gods were born...

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