The endless blue that stretches between Peru and Bolivia- PUNO y Lago Titikaka
Originally I had planned to visit Puno and LagoTitikaka en route to Bolivia later on in the year, however as plans always tend to do, this changed. Spontaneously one of my friends in Calca called me and said he was at the terminal booking tickets for Puno and would I like to come. I had little time to decide but found myself saying yes. So suddenly I found myself on a night bus in the company three young men, French, Belgian/Italian and a Dane. An interesting, but fun, combination to say the least.
The boys had all never been on a night bus before, so I felt like quite the old hat with my seasoned hours of night busses through renowned dodgy drug jungle areas and all the rest. They began the trip by quoting from the lonely planet travel guide as follows:
‘overnight buses are best avoided has overnight buses have been hijacked, even by criminals posing as fellow passengers, and tourists can be robbed and raped. Military checkpoints can appear anywhere as can road blockades by terrorist groups’ I then proceeded to hear about the landmines and all the dangers Peru has to offer. Thank you lonely planet. The boys quickly decided that if anything happened it would be my fault, as I had suggested we take a night bus and give ourselves an extra day in Puno. After lots of whinging about a non functional TV (apparently they didn’t even want to watch some random Spanish film they always show on these buses, it was just a matter of PRINCIPLE that the promised TV wasn’t working) we finally got to sleep. Funniest image ever was seeing the three boys clutching onto their bags all night just in case the promised hijacking occurred. Seriously these Europeans have no taste for adventure!
We arrived in Puno in the early hours of the morning and I immediately felt the crispness, that particular thin quality the air has, at these high altitudes. A few scattered hours sleep in a hostel and we were ready to tackle breakfast and find a tour for the lake and islands the next day. Our little group of 4 quickly expanded to about 20 volunteers and ex volunteers, who all happened to be in Puno that weekend. Brilliant fun! The afternoon was spent walking through the black market of Puno, apparently according to the boys Puno was the prime location to buy a stolen iPhone. Lovely. We ended up finding everything stolen but the iphones… perhaps they were in a slightly less visible location than the open street markets we were wandering through. Nevertheless we now know where to head if anything was ever stolen. The stall holders shamelessly tried to sell us assortments of backpacks, hikingboots, jackets, mismatched clothing, basically just about everything that could be found in your average backpackers pack. Lunch was another affair with lots of whinging. Frederik having spent most of his life in Italy stupidly ordered a pizza. Now even to those unused to the brilliance of italian pizza, it is safe to say the peruvians really don’t manage. It’s a soggy affair of an imbalance of too much cheese, no sauce, crappy toppings and a doughy base. Poor Frederik could simply not cope.
That evening after a filling meal at a Chifa (Peruvian Chinese) we decided to test Lonely Planet’s recommendation by visiting the “the best watering hole in southern Peru”. It was indeed a lovely pub/bar. It is at these places where it is easy to be transported to a different place. One could be anywhere in the world, most definitely not in Peru. The soundtrack is that of nostalgia, those songs we all know and reminisce what they all meant to us at their times of popularity. It is sometimes hard when yourealize how no one has a shared memory, because no one knew each other back then. Or with some people even just a month ago. At these points you start to long for those people with whom you share a past… a memory… a story friends and family we all grew up with and know so well. Sentimental moments aside, as usual the night is great fun and we return to our hostels slightly apprehensive with our early morning start at the harbour to meet our boat. We quickly realize how impossible sleep is going to be, as our hostel is conveniently located right next to a major disco. Oops. Lots of salsa beats later we finally drift off to sleep, our feet probably all still tapping away to the rhythms flooding our rooms.
Early morning breakfast of the usual Pan y mantaquilla (literally bread and butter) and our cup of mate de coca to push away those lingering twinges of altitude sickness (or other causes of headaches also likely) was not a special affair. We scrambled aboard our boat and off we went, leaving the dirty and rather ugly city of Puno behind, the fresh air and blue skies and water offering a much more attractive alternative. The islands of Uros were our first stop. These islands are perhaps the most famous of lake titikaka, yet somehow I couldn’t quite connect to them. They are made out of layers and layers of reeds, as they rot away from the bottom they are replaced on top. Everything is made of these reeds. Boats, houses, archways, fences etc. Apparently the locals still live here as they have for all time, yet it is somehow hard to believe. It was very touristy and seemed staged. Maybe if we had visited different islands deeper into the community of floating islands we would have experienced something different. It was however still spectacularly beautiful, the yellow reeds contrasting brilliantly with the blue of the sky and reflecting water.
Back on the boat and onward for a few more hours to Isla Amantani, a larger and less touristic island of the lake. The weather is perfect, and it is hard to not simply sit on the deck of our boat with a massive content grin on my face as everything is simply so perfect and just the way it should be. I had forgotten how much I had missed water and the ocean. Although still landlocked, lake titikaka was big enough to bring back many beach time and water memory. I had missed the bright blue clear skies and radiant sunlight that was becoming more and more rare as the rainy season creeps into Cusco and the Andes.
We arrived in Amantani and were greeted by the locals. The captain of our boat divided us all up and sent us off to follow different locals. Sidsel (my jungle buddy from denmark) Laura (housemate in Cusco) and Stella (Volunteer from finland) ended up in a little house overlooking the endless blue of the lake. Lunch was simple but delicious. Our host mother, prepared the freshest trout, potato and rice on the simple wood fire stove that was our kitchen. A dash of lime juice and some salt, it was impossible to not enjoy. Too tired to do much, we walked around the island a little and then returned to play many a round of cards. There are only so many sights you can take in a day, and it was time for a rest.
Nighttime came slowly and we enjoyed the sunset in clichéd style. Beer and good company. Life was good. As the sun disappeared the cold set in reminding us we really were at around 4000 metres. Lake titikaka brought back many memories of my time in Russia and lake Baikal, another lake of immense volume. I thought about how much things had changed since I was 16 and naively decided to follow my exchange class on a trip to Russia and a lake I never knew existed before. Now, a few years later, here I was, again at a lake, again an opposite side of the world, but this time a entirely a product of my own choices, decisions and actions. It was a nice feeling to have, sitting in silence and staring across the lake and setting sun, thinking just how happy I was to be where I was at exactly that moment in time.
After dinner we were given an assortment of Peruvian traditional dress and shown how to put them on. The next few hours were spent with the other volunteers and all the locals in a hall with live Peruvian music and muchascerveza. We all danced and laughed our time away and had a lot of fun. Highlight of the night was when Jimmi and Pierre ended up wearing the many layers of the quechuan skirts and floral shirts and then proceeded to dance as well. Classic.
Sleep that night was bliss. With only candle night, we hardly had many options for night time activities. An early night was just what was needed. Bundled up warmly in many layers of Alpaca blankets not even the coldest high altitude titikaken wind could get to us. I awoke early that morning and decided to climb up to the top of the island. With no one else keen I began the climb by myself. My heart was beating incredibly fast even after the first few metres up. I hate how the altitude has such an affect. It seriously feels as though every breath isn’t enough. My body takes a long time to adjust, and I think I am still slowly adjusting from when I returned from the jungle a few weeks back. Altitude aside, this walk was by far my favourite moment of the weekend trip. Over my whole time in Peru everything has always been about being around and with people, from working in the kindergarten to my family or spending so much time with other volunteers. This was again intensified when traveling in the jungle with a close group of friends. Walking up this mountain I felt as though I finally had a moment to myself, to think many things over.
Surprisingly I was very content with this solitude, and I sat on the top of the mountain overlooking the lake from every angle as the sun intensified. One direction there were mountain ranges smouldering into the distance. Ancient giants simply resting and waiting. Another angle, by far my favourite, offered a view across the lake to a smudge of Bolivia in the distance. Snow capped mountains lined another edge of the lake. I sat there and simply breathed in the beauty and the tranquility. I thought a lot about my traveling plans and some important choices I have to make, the main on being whether I should travel alone or not. I came to the conclusion that while I will try to have a base, a contact in every country or place, I will try and make the trips from one to another by myself. So far my plans are slowly shaping up to start by going south again to Bolivia, from there fly up to Colombia to spend Christmas with my dear Colombian chicka Laura, fly to Brazil for some beach and summer fun and after that make my way by bus through to Argentina where I eventually fly out of back home. I like the thought of traveling by myself for some time, meeting who I meet but most importantly just going exactly where I want to go and doing as I feel.
We then all boarded the boat again to visit another nearby island, Isla Taquille. More steps and a steep climb greeted us, and we huffed and puffed all the way up. Blaming the altitude of course!!! Isla Taquille was delightful. Very mediterranean, the deep blue water stretching out in all directions, paved little streets and so many stone archways. We sat up the top and took the obligatory group shots and then had to dash back down for out boat back to Puno, so we could then get the long night bus back to Cusco. The boat trip back was a lovely affair of falling asleep on the decks and waking up delightfully sunburnt…. All in all a wonderful weekend with wonderful people, could not have had a better time!
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