Lake Titicaca Home Stay
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.
