Culture Shock

Who knew there would come a time when Western culture was a shock to my system? After four days in Norway, I am having an extremely hard time adjusting to it all. First, I am generally travel fatigued and although I’m pretty travel hardened for developing countries, it’s not translating well here. Second, the prices are so far off the high end of my scale that I’m not dealing with them terribly well. And third, I’m in the middle of my first travel medical emergency.

I think I turned into a thrifty grad student overnight when I quit my job. And then of course six months in Peru and Nepal did nothing to prepare me for Norwegian prices. Over Christmas I nearly had a breakdown in City Market over whether to buy a $4 jar of pesto for dinner, and when I decided to “splurge” for it, I told Cole that meant we couldn’t afford eggs for breakfast. Maybe that should have been a sign that I’d fallen off the deep end of cheapness. Instead, I went off to Peru, a fertile feeding ground for my inter cost consciousness, and I got even more thrifty.

Enter Oslo, the most expensive city in the world. Hotels six times more expensive than Peru and a complete dearth of cheap (or even reasonably priced) food has not mixed well with my inner cheapskate. The sticker shock has been rough. And of course my reaction to this sticker shock has been the logical and calm reaction you have all come to expect from me: don’t eat, because it costs too much.

I started out this trip travel fatigued from Peru and not eating probably made my body weaker, so somewhere between Denver and our second morning here, I developed a nasty infection in my toe (left leg, why do you continue to let me down?). I probably should have taken a day to get it taken care of in Oslo, but because the country is so expensive, I decided we should continue on to Bergen en route out of Norway and get it taken care of later. This plan backfired completely because it did not occur to me that we wouldn’t be able to find a room in Bergen at 11 pm at night. The Peru logic goes: hey, it’s still light out, so not too unsafe to walk around, and the hotels want our business so someone will for sure let us in. Not so. Eventually we ended up biting the bullet and staying in the one hotel we could find with a receptionist still on site (tip: find one attached to a bar!), at a price that would have paid for a good four days of travel in Peru. (This is starting to look like a trend: later we tried to book a hotel two days in advance and the town was already full. In Peru I was foiled by planning to much in advance; here it's by not planning enough. Hopefully there is a happy medium to be found.) At that point, my toe was looking worse than the worst pictures I could find online, so Jay and my mother were able to run a successful intervention to get me to rest for a day, eat and find a doctor. I’m still not sure if I can get over the sticker shock of Norway in time to really enjoy our days here but I’m going to try. Whether my toe will get better with this first round of treatment is also TBD. But on the plus side, we unintentionally discovered the one reasonably priced thing in Norway: the hospital!! Thank goodness for nationalized health care and $50 ER visits.

Trujillo

The last place Cole and I visited was Trujillo, a medium-sized city on the north coast. It’s kind of like the wealthy older sibling of Chiclayo, one of our first Peru destinations. The town itself has many historical pastel-colored Colonial mansions, though we mostly spent our time exploring the surrounding sites.

Huanchaco

We stayed just outside Trujillo in a surfing town called Huanchaco. The town is famous for the caballitos we saw in Pimentel, old fishing boats designed to get over the waves efficiently. Given the towns’ similar background, it’s amazing the differences between them now. Pimentel is still primarily a fishing town whereas Huanchaco is a hot spot for tourists wanting to learn to surf. Maybe I got swept up in the surfer culture or the nostalgia of my last weekend in Peru or maybe the sun made me crazy, but I decided to take a surfing lesson!! Extremely hard to believe I know, but I have a witness! Cole and I took an hour and a half long lesson and I lasted about 50 minutes. I tried to stand up twice and had fun just lying on the board as the wave pushed me in twice, spent most of the time trying to paddle the super sized board back into the ocean, and then got out when I had enough of the water beating me up. I’m calling it a win.

Post surfing: still alive!

Temple of the Sun and Moon

The Temple of the Sun and Moon are these two gigantic structures built on either end of the former capital of the Moche culture. We only got to see the Temple of the Moon, but that’s ok because it’s supposed to be the more impressive of the two, with all these amazing painted murals which were very well preserved.

Inside murals

Outside murals

It took a very long time for archeologists to find anything interesting at the site because the Moches rebuilt the temple six times using the old one as an outline (like nesting dolls), so all the cool stuff was well buried under the newer structures. Unlike most Peruvian cultures, the Moches did not sacrifice small girls, but instead warriors fought every time there was too much/too little rain and the loser was sacrificed. Also, the Moches were the last ancient culture ruled by priests—when the community realized the priests were powerless over El Nino, they were booted from power. One of my favorite things about the site is that it is very much an educational tool—the guides are tourism students who need practical hours for their degree and the folks working on the ongoing excavations are local archeology students.

Chan Chan

Chan Chan is the most famous ruin around Trujillo, the largest adobe city in the world built by the Chimú, the civilization right after the Moches. It also has a ton of cool designs on the inside (though carved rather than the Moches' paintings) all honoring the ocean. The reason the city is so huge is that each new king built an entirely new palace because it was thought that the old king’s ghost would come back to reside in his palace during the afterlife. The palace was not the only thing that turned over with the new monarch—when a king died, his whole court was killed with him! Basically, the sons born of the king and his primary wife are all raised to take over power, then the best is chosen and everyone else is killed. Apparently this was a coup prevention method. First, there is no one surviving from the rejected brother’s courts to take over power and second, all the people in your court have a vested interest in keeping you alive. Clever. The village is also a cleaver design with all 70,000 residents living around the palace as a kind of human wall. Yet like the Chachapoyas, the Chimú fell when the Incas cut off their water supply. Ha, so much for Incas the great warriors--they were just sneaky. Other than the stories, my favorite thing about Chan Chan was that the designs on the inside were done without a model and are all just a little bit different. 

Big fishes, little fishes...

Rooms of the palace, the triangle things represent fishing nets!

And now, Jay and I are off to Europe!

Chachapoyas

Chachapoyas was a last minute addition to our travel itinerary when Choquequirau fell through and opened up some days. Originally, it was just a cool place to see on the route out of the rainforest, but even once we flew from Iquitos to Lima, out-of-the-way Chachapoyas seemed worth a visit. I’m definitely glad we made the detour—Chachapoyas is the perfect level of touristy: enough sights to keep you busy and amenities to keep you comfortable without being overrun by gringos and artificially done up for visitors.

Our first full day in Chachapoyas, we took a guided tour of the Kuélap ruins. Kuélap was a fortress/city/religious site/cemetery for the Chachapoyas people (“cloud people”) right before the Incas took control of the region. The archeological highlights are the huge fortress walls (6-12m tall with only a few entrances that force enemies into single file lines while being shot at from above) and the 400 circular houses inside. Interestingly, the Incas were never able to penetrate the fortress walls but instead waited until the dry season and cut off the Chachapoyas’ access to their water source in the valley below. Ha, that, I suppose, is the major design flaw of a ridge-top fortress.

Fortress walls

Cole Kauffman: Inca Intruder

Ridge top houses

I really enjoyed Kuélap because it’s just/still a step away from being a major tourist destination. We had no trouble finding an English speaking guide, there is a well done path leading the last 2 km to the ruins, and enough preservation work has been done to really see the ruins. Yet the ruins were not so well preserved that there were workers picking moss from between the stones (as we saw at Machu Picchu) and we only saw two other tour groups, both Peruvian.

Our second day we took a little hike outside Chachapoyas to see the Gocta Waterfall. Gocta is the third tallest waterfall in the world at 771 meters. It’s actually two waterfalls, one on top of the other, but I guess because the same water goes down both of them it counts as one big one. Predictably, the waterfall was much more impressive from a far—at the base it mostly just felt like we were in a rainstorm. The cool part of the base was how little of a lake there was. I guess since the water is falling from so far its all just mist by the time it hits the ground.

Gocta

Rainstorm

On our final day, we went to check out Karajia, an archeological site famous for six straw and mud tomb markers shaped into people and placed midway up a sheer cliff face. It’s not the most exciting thing in the world but is a very cool example of community tourism. The site is not sponsored by any big historical preservation foundation like many other ruins in the country, but the town closest to Karajia has started charging tourists (about $2) to enter and they have built a small museum (i.e., an unlit hut) to house the “artifacts” locals have recovered from below the tombs. I’m sure the artifacts are not going to do well in the long run, nor am I sure how authentic they are, but I’d much rather pay 75 cents straight to the community than 6 dollars to subsidize a fancy new building.

Karajia

Karajia "museum"

I spent a lot of time in Chachapoyas thinking about the passage of time and the rise and fall of cultural eras. It’s amazing that all these forgotten societies existed right under the nose of modern villages. For years, a culture thrived in these sites, then one day, it was just gone—and life moved on around it. One dominant culture is replaced by another and another with little memory of the people that preceded them. I’ve never been much of a history buff, but it does make me wonder what the next big culture overturn will be and how soon it will happen. And then on a micro-scale, huge traumatic events and "era shifts" happen everyday to people everywhere—and life moves on. People figure out a way to live on despite physical illness, financial ruin, lose of loved ones and prolonged mental health challenges. It’s nice to have some time this year to sit back, admire the resiliency of the human race, and feel grateful for the relatively minor trauma level of my own life.

Welcome to the Jungle

Since more than 50% of Peru’s landmass is jungle, a trip to the Amazon seemed necessary to round out any claim of having “seen Peru.” That said, I was more than just a little hesitant to visit the rainforest after my last experience in the jungle. Luckily, Iquitos proved to be a more structured, less wild, Elena-friendly jungle experience. In four days, we hung out on various-sized boats, saw tons of (formerly) wild animals, adorable monkeys, birds, jungle fauna and native culture. And the only jungle-specific annoyance I had to endure was Cole singing “Welcome to the jungle, baby” over and over again because he couldn’t remember any of the other lyrics.

Iquitos is the world’s largest city (over 400,000 residents) not connected to the rest of the country by land. We had intended to fly in and boat out, but due to an unanticipated Peruvian holiday we ended up flying both directions and missed out on three days in a hammock en route to Yurimagas (the closest road to Peru is three days by boat, insane). We spent a total of four days in the Iquitos area, two in the city and two in a jungle lodge about 30km north of Iquitos.

The first morning we woke up and went to see the floating slums of Belén. During the rainy season, the Amazon River rises eight meters (!), doubling the width of the river and drowning everything on the shore lines. I can’t even mentally conceptualize what eight extra meters of water looks like; it was pretty cool to see how the residents have worked around this annual inconvenience by putting their houses on stilts or rafts. (Apparently during the dry season, half the houses are eight meters in the air and the other half are sitting in a mud pit. I think I need to see it to believe it.) Belén’s just like any other slum: houses have addresses, there are street lights, electrical wires, sporadic trees, and markets, but you have to get everywhere by boat (or in the case of small children, bucket). This year they have the added challenge of record water levels, so there was standing water inside many houses and the schools were closed due to flooding. I couldn’t help but think that residents must look at something like Katrina and think, “What’s the big deal? We do this every year.”

Belen

Floating house!

Next stop was the Pilpintuwasi Butterfly Farm. The farm was originally started to research which caterpillars eat which leaves and turn into which butterflies, and as an educational tool for natives who kill butterflies and caterpillars thinking that all bugs are dangerous. It quickly also became an animal rescue center, taking in animals confiscated by police while they were being sold at the Belén market or smuggled out at the airport. The animals really steal the spotlight from the butterflies, and each has its own story. My favorite two were the monkey who young boys in Belén raised to be a pickpocket (and who continued to pickpocket visitors if not kept in a cage) and the jaguar that had been sold as a pet after his mother had been killed for her pelt (it turns out jaguar’s don’t make great pets and he was quickly turned into authorities).

Adorable pickpocket

Not a pet

I love that the Butterfly Farm was doing what small things it could to help without trying to change the status quo of inadequate regulation of black market animals. Our guide explained that increasing tourism is a much better advocate than they could ever be—if enough tourists complain about the endangered animals being sold as pets/food at the market, the police will start to see the economic damage of inadequate animal protection and crack down—so they are better off protecting what animals they can. Smart logic, good distribution of resources, and a great example of avoiding nonprofit mission creep.

The next day we headed off to the jungle lodge. From the get go, they were very upfront about the fact that the rainforest we would see was secondary not primary jungle, the native communities were only in native dress for us, and the animals were no longer truly wild. I liked how open they were about that, and the lack of “authentic” rainforest did nothing to diminish my enjoyment of the activities.

The native community we visited taught us how to use the blow guns and showed us a “traditional” dance (which I think could have just as easily been made up on the spot. “Ok guys, today we are going to walk in a circle around the drummers, then randomly walk backwards three steps when we feel like it.”). 

Target practice

Then we went to see a traditional sugar cane farm and learned how to extract the sugar cane juice (basically just smashing the cane between big rocks). Last stop on the native community tour was a traditional medicine man who talked to us about some of the herbal drinks they made, let us sample some of them, and demonstrated a traditional healing on Cole. At the end of the first day the jungle guide took us out to watch the sunset over the Amazon.

 
The next day we took a boat over to an animal reserve that was completely flooded, so instead of walking around to see the animals, various monkeys would drop from trees into the boat to check us out. The reserve also had a big anaconda (actually, it was still a baby, but it seemed pretty darn big) they brought around for photos. 

Thrilled about the monkey´s visit...

...Not as thrilled about the snake

Our last jungle lodge activity was traditional piranha fishing using bits of beef hung from a stick. I didn’t feel much pressure to catch a fish, since one had already jumped in the boat into my lap, but Cole caught two little tiny catfishes.

man.

 The last day back in Iquitos we went to check out this place the tourist office told us about. The info guy wrote down a list of Spanish words we could see there, the only one of which we knew was “piranhas” so we thought it was another animal reserve. It turned out to be a really cool find—definitely far far off the tourist track, just a family’s backyard that is full of all the animals not cute enough to be featured at a reserve. When we asked our “guide” (i.e., the owner’s grand daughter) why all the animals were here, she shrugged her shoulders and said that her grandfather liked caimans, it just developed from there, and at some point they figured they could make a little money from it. Two dollars for a bag of meat to feed to a dozen adult caimans, a dozen baby caimans, a pool of piranhas and some terrifying-looking meat-eating fish (paiche), sign me up! I particularly liked bouncing meat of the caimans’ heads since they can’t see anything during the day.

Pet alligators...?

 Since our boat adventure fell through, we took the other way around, via a plane back to Lima, then a 22-hour bus to Chachapoyas, our next destination…

Hooray Huaraz!

For one of the highest mountain ranges in the world, the Cordillera Blanca is surprisingly accessible. In contrast, the Himalayas always seemed far away and unapproachable. From a distance, they looked fake—like a backdrop painted on the sky—and it takes a 14+ day hike just to get the basecamp of the famous peaks (Everest, Annapurna, etc). I much prefer the Cordillera Blanca, where within a few hours of driving and hiking from Huaraz you can be at the base of a 6,000 meter peak. Huaraz is also surprisingly tourist-free for such proximity to mountaineering greatness. My theory is two-fold: first, the town of Huaraz is nothing special to look at, since it has periodically been completely destroyed by earthquakes (the last one was in the 70’s); and second, the 30 hours of cumulative bus time between Huaraz and Cusco position it well outside the tourism radius of a 2-week vacationer.

During our four days in Huaraz, we hiked to three alpine lakes and drove through the canyon connecting the Cordillera Blanca and Cordillera Negra. The high alpine lakes are pretty crazy because after hiking the equivalent of a fourteener (the lakes were at about 4,500 meters) there is another layer of mountains looming above you. I thought it might be kind of repetitive spending three days in a row on day hikes to lakes, but each trail and lake and landscape was a little different, and each day was my favorite for some reason or another.

Lake Parón was my favorite for the peaks behind the lake. It is surrounded on all sides by 5,000+ meter peaks, including at least two above 6,000 meters. Though the day was a bit cloudy, we caught some glimpses of the big mountains and enjoyed the musical stylings of the park ranger who was randomly playing a saxophone in the middle of the Andes. 

Lake Patron, 4155 m

The hike itself was a little frustrating, first because it proved impossible to access the trailhead by public transportation (villagers come to the city in the morning, not the other way around, so there were not enough passengers for a van to make the return trip); and then because the distance to the lake kept changing. We got estimates between 9km to 15 km, one hour of hiking to four hours. The high end turned out to be most accurate, with a full four hours and 15 km of hiking from Parón Pueblo to the lake. On the way down, we got lucky and a Peruvain family on a weekend road trip picked us up and spared us the last 6 km of the descent.

Lake Churup was my favorite for the trail leading to the lake. The first section of the trail is about an hour and a half of beautiful hiking through the pastures between the town of Llupa and the “town” of Pitec (does four huts make a town?). When we got off the bus in Llupa, a 77-year old man happened to be starting the commute to his pasture on a donkey, and invited us to walk with him. When we reached his pasture, he passed us off to another 70-year old man walking all the way to Pitec.

Patchwork Pastures

From Pitec, the hike is two hours straight up the ridge, quickly gaining over 600 meters. The last 40 meters or so is a straight vertical wall with a little assistance from some bolted cables (though cold, wet cables are not the most helpful things in the world). I surprised myself by how easily I hopped from rock to rock to ascend/descend the wall—I’m not sure if it was recovering from the year of injuries or just generally growing up a bit, but I trust my body to get itself safely up and down things so much more than I used to. Scrambling is much more fun when you’re not terrified of falling. 

Scrambling down

Lake 69 was my favorite for the lake itself. We went on a day trip to Lake 69 with a tour group out of Huaraz, since during the low season there is not public transport that far. I’m glad we took the organized route after two days solo because it freed up more brain space to just enjoy the surroundings. We stopped at various viewpoints and other alpine lakes on the way to the trailhead and luckily had the best weather of the three days (though still overcast at times). The trip didn’t have a guide, just provided transportation and a detailed map for the hike. Ironically, Lake 69 is the only lake of the three we did listed as a two-day hike in Lonely Planet, but it was the shortest hike for us, taking only 2.5 hours to ascend. The lake is a beautiful turquoise that stands out even more because of the grey crater surrounding it. On the way down, we had some amazing views of Chacaraju (6112m), the peak whose base is at the lake.

Lake 69

Big mountains!

Huaraz will definitely go down as a highlight of the trip for me. After the bummer of our Choquequirau non-starter, I loved just having a few days to enjoy the mountains far far away from the parade of gringos that is Cusco. Both Cole and I had an off day (different days) we had to push through, and I think surviving those made the lakes and peaks even more satisfying.

Travel Planning Failures

After Puno, we headed to Cusco to see the Inca ruins. Very quickly I learned where travel planning breaks down: (1) If your Lonely Planet is two years old; (2) If there are natural disasters that don’t hit the papers for 5 days; and (3) If the weather is just plain foul for several days on end.

Cusco didn’t appeal to me much at all, so the same day we arrived, we headed off to Ollantaytambo and caught the train for Aguas Calientes to see Machu Picchu the next day. We woke up early and were in line for the bus to Machu Picchu at 5:20, arriving at the sight just before 6 am. Our plan was to head quickly up to Wayna Picchu, a steep mountain next to the ruins, since our trusty guide book informed us that only 400 people are let in per day—200 at 7 am and 200 at 10 am. Planning Fail: As of January 2012, you have to buy Wayna Picchu entrance tickets in advance, at the same time you buy your Machu Picchu entrance ticket. The next task in our plan was to head over to Cerro Picchu, a hike to a viewpoint on the other side of the sight that did not require waiting in line. Planning Fail: As of January 2012, you also have to buy entrance tickets for Cerro Picchu in advance.

Being the careful planner I am, I was hit pretty hard by my botches in planning for the most iconic destination in Peru. The day was looking pretty gloomy, but then, a surprise advantage of arriving at Machu Picchu before all the day trippers presented itself: THE LLAMAS!!!! There are a number of llamas roaming around Machu Picchu in part to amuse tourists and in part to mow the lawn. Most of the day, they hang out in this one part of the ruins where tourists can’t get too close to them, but before the chaos, they roam freely around on the footpaths and in and out of structures. For about 45 minutes, Cole put up with me following the llamas around, which of course cheered me right up.

Our Machu Picchu guide

From there we decided to make the best of it and started the ruins over to see things in order so we could read about them (and eavesdrop on tour groups) as we went along. Then, we went up to the top near the entrance to try to get one of the postcard shots of the whole Machu Picchu site. Planning Fail: This only works when there is some semblance of sunlight—we had heavy cloud cover. But instead of getting down about this one (because really, what can you do about the weather?), I made a game of it and we asked a ton of people at all slightly different spots to take pictures for us until we got one where you can kind of sort of see the ruins.

Machu Picchu!

Despite the ups and downs of the day, I’ll look back at Machu Picchu fondly. Like the Great Wall of China, it’s one of those sites that you see tons of pictures of before you arrive, but when you get there it’s still really impressive. We went to the Machu Picchu museum afterwards, which I think really helped me appreciate the site. My favorite things about Machu Picchu were:

• The structural engineering prowess of the Incas. I was particularly amazed by the way they built around existing boulders and by the religious buildings made from large carved blocks instead of the typical smallish stones.

• The agricultural terraces, which I’m used to seeing around now, but in the museum we learned that the Incas were different because instead of cutting the terraces into the hills, the Incas built the terraces up on top of the hill foundation!

• The cool astronomical things, like the instrument the Incas had designed to help track the movements of the sun and plan around solstices. I think it’s pretty amazing that modern astronomers still can’t figure out exactly how it works.

• The llamas, obviously, especially the baby one.

---

After Machu Picchu, our plan was to head to a much less frequented Inca ruin, Choquequirau. The ruins are a four to five day hike from a town about three hours from Cusco, and it is a little difficult to plan for before you arrive in Cachora, but in my mind anything that gets rave reviews from William Loopesko is worth trying. We checked with the tourism office in Aguas Callientes to make sure there were no new 2012 permits required, and headed off to Cachora. Planning fail: News travels slowly in rural Peru, and when we arrived in Cachora that night, we learned there had been a huge landslide two days ago that took out a key section of the trail. (The landslide eventually hit the papers, but not until five days after the fact.)

This discovery put us in a bit of a pickle, because we had already bought airline tickets for the next leg of our journey based on a five-day trek. After a night’s rest, some rapid brainstorming, a quick Elena breakdown, and some planner pinch hitting by Cole, we settled on what would turn out to be an awesome backup plan: one day of horseback riding in Cachora (in the rain, still, but a nice chance of pace), up to a spot where you could see the landslide (and the ruins when there is sun), then off to Huaraz to hike in the Andes until our flight.

The landslide that blocked our way

My mule named mula (left) and Cole's horse named caballo (right)

Lake Titicaca

The consequence of traveling at the pace we are is that down time (ie blogging time) has become sparse and my blogs are crazy delayed. That said, I think they’re still worth doing, in part because it helps me process what I’ve seen and in part because I want friends and family to know what Cole and I  are up to and that I am still safe and happy!

After canyon country, we headed to Puno to visit the Lake Titicaca islands. Lake Titicaca has tourism down pat. From Puno, there are three islands popular to visit, Uros (the floating islands), Amantaní, and Taquile. Though there are many tour agencies willing to take you around the islands, the ferries are also set up for tourism and you can do the exact same route without a guide for less money and more confidence that the money is going to the communities. There are three common trips: (1) a day trip just to Uros; (2) a day trip to Uros and Taquile; and (3) a trip to Uros, an overnight at Amantaní and home via Taquile. Cole and I opted for the third option, without a guide.

The islands could be a tourism destination all on their own. Once you get out of the cove around Puno, the water is just gorgeous and the low clouds layered on top of Bolivia’s peaks on top of glistening blue water is hard to take your eyes off. 

Lake Titicaca in the morning

But rather than rely on their beauty alone, the Titicaca islands have positioned their traditional culture and isolation from globalization as their top selling point. Uros, in particular, is a really cool glimpse into a unique culture. Originally, the islands were built to try to isolate the community from the aggressive Incas and though the island gets some snuff for no longer being “authentic,” if you just look at it like a Frontier Days kind of culture show, I still think it’s pretty neat. The floating islands are built from the totora reeds growing in the shallow part of the lake. During the wet season, the roots float to the top of the water and the villagers boat out and cut the roots (which are quite cork like) into blocks, which they then tie together and anchor in place where they want to live. The island we visited (there are about 60 small community islands) was made of a couple dozen blocks of various sizes, and even had a net lined hole to store fish in! The roots are then covered in reeds and houses/benches/boats are made out of the reeds as well. 

Uros, the Floating Islands

A demonstration of how the islands are built

After Uros, we went over to Amantaní for the night. Amantaní has no hotels or restaurants; everything is done via a community tourism system with home stays. When the boat arrives, the families who are next in line are waiting on the dock and every group is assigned to a family for the night. Since they’ve been doing it so long, it’s pretty mechanized and most houses have built on additions for tourists (our room was the nicest we’ve stayed in since leaving San Bartolo). Other than tourism, the only income on the island is agriculture. We did the two hikes on the island to the two highest points from which you can see the terracing all the way down to the lake. (There was also, apparently, a cultural show at night, which we missed because when we asked our family about it they didn’t think it was happening that night.)

Amantani Island, with Taquile in the background

The next morning was disgustingly cold, but we diligently got up bright and early to catch the boat to Taquile. To my surprise, Taquile felt even more touristy than the floating islands. Like Amantaní, the main industries are tourism and agriculture but it is also famous for handicrafts and the villagers sell their woven products in a big cooperative store in the town square. We had about 3 hours to walk around the island—first up the 20-minute staircase and to the town square with all the other hundreds of tourists, and then we proceeded to get lost on the island trying to escape the tourist crowds. Luckily a nice old man pointed us up a hill and we wandered through pastures and up rock faces until we found the trail back to the docks. 

Brrrrrrrr!!

All in all, I’m glad we went to see Lake Titicaca, and I did enjoy the scenery and Uros, but having seen some other things since then, I don’t think Puno will go down in the books as a highlight of the trip.