If you sat down with a piece of paper and tried to come up with all the things that would torture my faithful traveling companion, it might look something like this:

– no heat
– plenty of stairs
– uncomfortable bed
– carbohydrate-laden meals
– sketchy bathroom
– lots of noise at night to keep you awake

We’re batting a thousand on all of these except the last one, but fortunately, a storm rolls through about 4am bringing thunder and the always appreciated pounding rain on our tin roof. By breakfast (6:45am), Angela is channeling her inner truck driver, which I find very entertaining (although I don’t think my grinning is helping very much).

After a quick meal (no potatoes, thankfully), we say goodbye to our hosts and head down to our boat.

Our next stop is Taquile Island, about a hour away. This should be a piece of cake, but the storm has roughed up the water quite a bit, and our captain seems set on catching as many waves broadside as he can. Sam is getting a little green by the halfway point, and while he keeps pretty quiet about it, seems very happy to get his feet back on firm ground.

We have a few hours to kill before the boat leaves again (it is possible to stay a second night on this island, but I don’t have many takers for that), so we spend that with a bit of hiking and a tasty lunch (thanks to all our time at sea on the Tawny Port, the Roberts clan is one one of the few in our group even remotely interested in food). While we eat, our guide talks about the local culture and all the various rules and customs around who can wear what, how they wear it, who does what job, and so on. They’ve even devised a method of herbal birth control, as with limited resources, managing population is critical to their existence.

By the time we meet back up with the boat, the waves have calmed down, making for a much more manageable 3 hours back to Puno. Arriving around 4pm, there isn’t a whole lot for us to do besides check back into the hotel, and seek out some dinner. There is some kind of celebration in full swing, which is the perfect opportunity to sample a few street carts. I know from the guide book that the meat on a stick here is beef heart, but I keep that on the down low until we’ve all eaten it.

We also discover the polleria, where for three bucks, you get a quarter chicken (which is delicious), and a huge plate of fries. It’s a pretty common meal here, and after partaking ourselves, we can see why.

That’s pretty much it for our final night in Puno. We have some free time tomorrow, but fly back to Lima in the evening, where I’m pretty sure all these extra blood cells will allow me to leap tall buildings in a single bound (or at least walk up a flight of stairs without feeling like my heart is going to explode).

After dodging a potentially serious incident (upon finding no hot water for a shower last night, my better half threatened grave bodily harm if there was none in the morning), we meet our driver just before 8am to make our way to the harbor. Fairly quickly, we are shepherded onto a boat (that, not surprisingly, doesn’t really look like the one we were shown in the brochure) with about a dozen other adventurous souls and a bilingual guide.

Our first stop is Uros, which is a group of man made, floating islands, about 30 minutes from Puno. This part of the lake is full of reeds, so getting there means navigating through a series of channels, sort of like the Everglades. Eventually, we come into an open area surrounded by thatch buildings, with people wandering all over the place. It could be any other city on the waterfront, with the exception that there is no actual ground here, but layers of reeds stacked on top of each other to create platforms upon which everything else is constructed. According to our guide 4,500 people live in Uros, which also includes two schools, a hospital, and several other commercial buildings like restaurants.

A short presentation demonstrates how the islands are constructed, and talks about the importance of the reeds (called tortora) to these people. In addition to construction material, they also provide medicine, a kind of flour for making breads, the base for drinks (both alcoholic and non-alcoholic), and serve as a fruit-like snack that we get to try.

We also get a tour of one of the “houses” (it has a TV powered by a solar panel so Sammy is all good), and a ride to another island in a reed boat before meeting back up with our guide for the next leg of our trip. It is possible to stay the night in Uros, and while our tour doesn’t provide that option, it is a unique enough place that on a future trip I would probably give it a try (although one of my travel companions may not be on board with that).

Our destination for the night is an actual island called Amantani, about 40 kilometers (and 4 glorious hours) further into Lake Titicaca. After leaving the reeds, the size of the lake becomes much more apparent, feeling a lot more like being on the ocean. Our guide rattles off some statistics along the way (roughly 8900 square kilometers in size, over 250 meters deep, and with waves up to 3 meters in height), and with a few naps mixed in, we pull in to the dock around 2pm. There, we are assigned to our host family, who hikes us up our accommodation for the night.

Given the decor, I get the distinct impression that we are taking over the kids’ room, and I get assigned the puppy bed (until Goldilocks decides her bed is too soft and moves everybody else around).

There is no English spoken here, so in very bad Spanish, we fumble through introductions (mom, dad, three kids, and grandma), and sit down in the dirt-floored dining room for some lunch (potatoes, rice, and some squeaky cheese that I end up eating multiple portions of to be polite). Sam then heads out with the kids to play some ball, while we get ready for a hike to the high point of the island.

Lake Titicaca is marginally higher than Cusco, and even though we have been at this elevation for about a week now, climbing still quickly wears you out (yes, I know it’s probably not really the altitude, but it makes for a great excuse so I’m taking it). Even more humbling is the barefoot lady, who must be at least 60, blowing right by me with a big bundle of stuff on her back, that she will have neatly spread out and available for sale by the time we get to the top.

As we make our way back down, the wind starts to pick up, and along with the setting sun makes for some very cold travelers. Mom is not happy, and back at the house, for the next 30 minutes one can hear sporadic muttering coming from a wool-encased lump (note the shoes pointing forward in the pic below). The words are hard to make out, but I pick up a few fragments, like “this is ridiculous”, “stupid homestay”, and “I can’t just freeze all night.”

We are saved by some hot soup and another plate of rice and potatoes, and rally to prepare for the fiesta at the local community center. All gussied up in our traditional party attire, we head out for a few hours of dancing, or as an observer might describe it, running in around in a big circle holding hands. Sam loves it, even though each song seems to go on forever and the heavy wool poncho has him breaking out in a sweat. It is a fun finish to a very eventful day, and even though there is no chocolate on the pillow when we get back to the room, it looks like we’ll make it.

Pretty uneventful day today. With a few hours to kill before our flight to Puno, we wandered around town a bit, stopping long enough at the tourist market for Sammy to pick up the present for Penny he has been talking about for days (I can’t post a picture in case Penny is reading this blog).

The flight is a short one, and we seem to have hardly reached cruising altitude before we are headed back down (I’m not sure what the rules are on using electronic devices when you never get below 10,000 feet, maybe you get to use them all the time). The airport is in a town called Juliaca, about 45 minutes from Puno, so by the time we finish the cab ride and check in, we barely have time to grab a quick dinner and find a travel agent to book our next tour. After some prodding, Sam and I convince Mom to a 2 day/1 night home stay on one of the islands in Lake Titicaca. She may have just heard the “H” in home stay and assumed I said Hyatt, but she’s committed now, so hopefully it will work out.

Our day begins at 4:45am. I figure if we have come all the way to Peru to see Machu Picchu, we may as well go the extra distance and get up early to be in the first group there. The first bus rolls out at 5:30, so I leave Sam and Mom to get breakfast while I squat a place in the line, which by 5:05 is already nearly a block long. Out spot gets us in the back row of bus number two, but after a 20 minute ride up a sometimes harrowing, switchback road (full props to the people walking up the stone steps from town), we are still in pretty good position before the gates open at 6:00am.

So, was it all worth it (not just the early morning, but coming all the way to Peru for this)? Absolutely! Machu Picchu is spectacular, and easily amongst the most amazing things that we have seen anywhere. On a perfect day, as the clouds move up from the valley past the ruins, it is almost magical. The pictures won’t do it justice, but short of being there, it’s the next best thing.

After a full day on the mountain, including a 1 hour hike along the Inca Trail to the Sun Gate, we still need to make our way back to Cusco, so from Aguas Calientes, it is the train back to Ollantaytambo, and then a couple hours in a cab to our hotel. Even so, our day isn’t over as traffic in the center of town is at a standstill because of Halloween. Rather than wait it out, we bail on the cab and head off on foot the last few blocks. Walking through the main plaza, it is just packed with families out trick or treating (although here they simply say “Halloween. Halloween”, and hold out a tiny plastic pumpkin). It is irresistible, so we buy a couple bags of candy from a street vendor and start handing it out. Big mistake. I am soon mobbed by pumpkin-waving Peruvians, forced up against a wall as they all push to get their share of the candy they see in my hand. Eventually I manage to stuff the candy bag in my pocket and hold my empty hands up to the crowd to show them I am all out, and as quickly as they appeared, the rag tag group of Spidermen, princesses, Smurfs, and fairies melt back into the crowd.

Somewhat smarter for the experience, we keep the candy we have left carefully hidden, pulling a piece or two out at a time and dropping it directly into individual buckets. As we hand out the last two pieces, we find ourselves right back in front of our hotel, and with that, wrap up a completely unforgettable day. I’m not sure what we’ll do to top this one, but tomorrow we head off for Lake Titicaca, so we’ll keep trying.