Days 46 and 47: Dirty Dancing

Day 45 (cntd)

Another two stamps in my passport and I arrive in Peru. We may still be on Lake Titicaca (indeed I can still see Copacabana), but Peru is noticeably wealthier, more lively and, dare I say it, more friendly than its close neighbour. Arriving in the port town of Puno, we were charmed into staying at a family hostel in the center with a fantastic vibe and amazing internet (hence my blog update). The surrounding streets are packed full of interesting stalls and the people sport everything from Western fashions to native knitware. Most importantly, there is a whole section of the local supermarket dedicated to fake English candy. Personal favourites are Old England Toffee and Big Ben Fudge.

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Day 46

Today was election day for the new Peruvian president and, with five candidates in the running, it was sure to be a divisive day. This, combined with the 3-day national prohibition on alcohol imposed for the election, suggested it may be a good time to go on a two-day tour of the Peruvian lake islands. We began at the incredibly touristy and tacky Disney-wonderland that is the ´Floating Islands´. These are a community of about 50 islands constructed out of the local totora reeds populated by the Uros people. I was particularly amused to wander inside one of the huts and find a computer, state of the art music system and mobile phone. 

The reeds making up the Islands are edible and I enjoyed having a good nibble. 

The highlight of this two-day tour though was our homestay with a local family on the Amantani island. Due to a slight administrative cock-up, seven of us were placed with one family which meant that our stay was a little less intimate than expected. Nonetheless, our host ´Damiana´ (below) was utterly welcoming to us all and happy to answer our naive questions (such as ´do you always dress like this or is this just for show´). The answer by the way was always´. Indeed, the people of this island together with its neighbour Taquile have a long tradition of weaving , there barely being a moment of the day when they do not have needles and thread in their hands. For women a black shawl over the head indicates that they are married, whilst one on the shoulder shows they are single. Similarly the colour, length and number of a man´s hats indicates his social position.

The house was lovely, full of chickens and little children. Somewhat disconcerting though was the meat left to dry out above my bedroom door.

The Quechua-speaking islanders maintain lives largely unchanged by the modern world and you can understand why when you appreciate just how picturesque and tranquil their island existance is. Everywhere you look there are bright colourful flowers, neat rows of quinoa and cute baby lambs. At nighttime the stars were brilliant and the air so quiet that you could hear the waves on the lake. Even the squat toilets had a romantic glamour of their own.

The family cooked us lunch, which consisted of quinoa soup, followed by three types of potato, corn and an omelette. Simple food maybe, but expertly done. We offered to help cook, but I can´t help but feel we slowed things down as we destroyed some rather fine vegetables in the peeling process. I am a particular fan of the local tea we were served which is made by pouring hot water onto ´muña´ leaves. A subsequent wikipedia has shown me that these are a local aphrodisiac and I now wander at our host´s motives!

A locals vs gringos football game was conclusively won by the latter. A particular highlight was when Tom demolished a poor 60 year old man with a vicious  tackle.

The island boasts two hills, one dedicated to Pacha Mama (Mother Earth) and the other to Pacha Tata (elderly men). We climbed the latter for a spectacular view of sunset over Lake Titicaca before returning to our house for dinner.

After dinner Damiana dressed the guys in ponchos and the girls in the colourful pleated skirts of the community and took us to the town hall for a night of dancing. The 60 year old women of the island threw Tom and me about like we were mere playthings on the dance floor such was their dancing vigour. Dancing, like all forms of exercise at altitude, left us red in the face from exertion as well as embarassment, but thankfully we were given respite when the locals told us the story of the colonisation of the islands through the medium of dance. 

 

 Day 47

A goodbye pancake breakfast with our family culminated in the announcement of the election results and the giving of presents. We then boarded the boat to visit the sister island of Taquile. The children on this island were utterly adorable and I had to be restrained from putting a few in my backpack as keep-sakes- 

Thankfully I was distracted by a trout lunch at a local restaurant.