After coming back from our trek, Annie and I spent an afternoon at the Pisac markets (buying waaaay too much. We are bad for eachother in that way). On Monday I ran into the Colca Canyon crew and we wandered around town and sampled fresh juices at the market. They were heading to Puno that night, and Annie and I had been thinking about doing it but weren´t sure if it would be worth the trip. We figured we might as well, even though Annie was feeling less than stellar, and jumped on the bus with them for the 7 hour ride (which was more like 9 including a few hours broken down on the side of the road).
We hadn´t had high expectations for the city of Puno, and we weren´t disappointed. Pretty grungy and congested in areas, abandoned in others. We walked down to the Lake (or the Cake as the hostel sign misspelled it) and at one point Ian commented that it felt like we were walking through the Apocolypse. Apparently April saw a guy pooing in one of the sites we passed, but the rest of us missed this.
The part of Lake Titikaka we saw was pretty scummy and surrounded by cheap markets and super sketchy fair rides. The one upside to Puno was the Bothy hostel where we stayed with really nice people and super comfy hammoks, where we ended up spending most of the day. We cooked a delicious feast of nachos with fresh guacamole and salsa with hot peppers and lots of cilantro, and nacho Doritos for lack of any other corn chips.
The following morning Annie and I set out on a one day trip of Lake Titikaka. Our first stop was a floating reed island of Uros. Apparently people fled to the lake and decided to build their own islands out of blocks of roots and reeds that they piled on top. They have to keep adding reeds every week as the bottom rots. The houses and boats are also made of these reeds, and they weave and even eat parts of them. This all would be pretty cool, but the whole place has been turned into one giant tourist experience. It is questionable whether people even live on these islands anymore, and after a group demonstration of how the islands were made we were split up and taken into individual houses so the ïnhabitants¨ could show us their clothes and try to sell us expensive tapestries and miniature boats. When it was time to leave the women were gathered and they sang us songs in the native Amaranti language, in Quecha, and then twinkle twinkle little star in English which was a little unnerving. The whole experience was quite uncomfortable.
The second island we visited was a few hours further into the lake. Taquile is a proper island of rock. It is known for its weavings, and especially the men are always busy making their hats that indicate their marital status. We climbed up and over the island, stopping near the top for lunch of trout from the lake, and then down the other side. It was quite pretty, but none of the locals seemed very happy to see tourists. I can´t blame them- a lot of people pull out their fancy camera gear and think because they have a big lens it is appropriate to get in people´s faces and take portrait shots of them and their children. While I am sure some of these photos are very nice, it seems like an uncomfortable situation for everyone involved.
We finally returned to Puno and ate cake and coffee for dinner. I wouldn´t count the venture as a strike against Peru, but it is nothing I would recommend or voluntarily do again.
After coming back from our trek, Annie and I spent an afternoon at the Pisac markets (buying waaaay too much. We are bad for eachother in that way). On Monday I ran into the Colca Canyon crew and we wandered around town and sampled fresh juices at the market. They were heading to Puno that night, and Annie and I had been thinking about doing it but weren´t sure if it would be worth the trip. We figured we might as well, even though Annie was feeling less than stellar, and jumped on the bus with them for the 7 hour ride (which was more like 9 including a few hours broken down on the side of the road).
We hadn´t had high expectations for the city of Puno, and we weren´t disappointed. Pretty grungy and congested in areas, abandoned in others. We walked down to the Lake (or the Cake as the hostel sign misspelled it) and at one point Ian commented that it felt like we were walking through the Apocolypse. Apparently April saw a guy pooing in one of the sites we passed, but the rest of us missed this.
The part of Lake Titikaka we saw was pretty scummy and surrounded by cheap markets and super sketchy fair rides. The one upside to Puno was the Bothy hostel where we stayed with really nice people and super comfy hammoks, where we ended up spending most of the day. We cooked a delicious feast of nachos with fresh guacamole and salsa with hot peppers and lots of cilantro, and nacho Doritos for lack of any other corn chips.
The following morning Annie and I set out on a one day trip of Lake Titikaka. Our first stop was a floating reed island of Uros. Apparently people fled to the lake and decided to build their own islands out of blocks of roots and reeds that they piled on top. They have to keep adding reeds every week as the bottom rots. The houses and boats are also made of these reeds, and they weave and even eat parts of them. This all would be pretty cool, but the whole place has been turned into one giant tourist experience. It is questionable whether people even live on these islands anymore, and after a group demonstration of how the islands were made we were split up and taken into individual houses so the ïnhabitants¨ could show us their clothes and try to sell us expensive tapestries and miniature boats. When it was time to leave the women were gathered and they sang us songs in the native Amaranti language, in Quecha, and then twinkle twinkle little star in English which was a little unnerving. The whole experience was quite uncomfortable.
The second island we visited was a few hours further into the lake. Taquile is a proper island of rock. It is known for its weavings, and especially the men are always busy making their hats that indicate their marital status. We climbed up and over the island, stopping near the top for lunch of trout from the lake, and then down the other side. It was quite pretty, but none of the locals seemed very happy to see tourists. I can´t blame them- a lot of people pull out their fancy camera gear and think because they have a big lens it is appropriate to get in people´s faces and take portrait shots of them and their children. While I am sure some of these photos are very nice, it seems like an uncomfortable situation for everyone involved.
We finally returned to Puno and ate cake and coffee for dinner. I wouldn´t count the venture as a strike against Peru, but it is nothing I would recommend or voluntarily do again.
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