The lake on top of the world

Lake Titicaca may not be the highest navigable lake in the world but there are not any bigger and higher!  Leaving from Puno we spent a day on the Peruvian side of the lake visiting the famous floating islands of the Uros.  The Islands were a sight to see, even with the shifting of the culture from isolationistic:- the original inhabitants moved to the islands to avoid imperialistic neighbors around 800 years ago and remained there though the rise and fall of the Incas, to the modern more tourist driven lifestyle.  The islands are made from large sections of reed roots 2m deep covered with many layers of reeds that need continual replenishment. The chunks of roots are tied together and also anchored to poles imbedded in the lake bottom.  Not only are the islands they live on made of reeds but so are their houses, their boats, and their souvenirs.

One aspect of their life which I found quite appealing was when a couple planned on marrying they were instructed by a special member of their tribe on contraceptives both natural traditional methods and modern condoms and the pill, after which they would live together for two years to ensure compatibility before permission would be given for marriage and children.  If they were not compatible they would go their separate ways with no ill regard from the community as they were never married.

We also visited Taquile island one of the four major islands in the lake, the community was very strictly run with codes of dress for the inhabitants ensuring that marriage status could be seen and if the individual was a leader of the community.  They are reputed to have the finest weavings in the Andes, but the work on display didn’t appeal to us the way the bright cheap works on the mainland did.  I will however give credit for their hats being woven close enough to carry water, though why not use a bucket I’m not so sure.

Crossing to the Bolivian side we looked out over the fleet of paddle boats and kayaks while relaxing in hammocks up on the hill.  If we were not at 4000m the temperature may have risen enough to venture in the water but instead we just soaked up the view.

 

 

 

Collapsed bridges, protests and swerving around rocks

We had delayed our departure from Cusco by a couple of days hoping that the protests we had been hearing about between Cusco and Puno would cease.  But, they didn’t.  From our research it appeared we had two options when it came to bus travel.  A day time bus that was taking an alternative route and thus avoiding the protests or a night time bus that took the main route, but assured us buses were being allowed through at night.  Eventually we bit the bullet, flipped a coin and purchased two tickets on the day time bus.  Our bus was due to leave at 8am so we dutifully turned up at 7:45am only to be told that no, the bus was not leaving.  We were informed that not only had the protests not resolved as we hoped but that they were ‘muy fuerte’ much stronger and the protestors had damaged the bridge that the alternative route buses were taking.

 

We ummed and ahhed and approached every bus company, only one was still running.  Not sure whether ‘Tour Peru’ was telling us the truth or just collecting money with no intention of running a bus we decided to risk the ‘Libertadad’ bus instead.  It was due to leave at 9:30am so not too long to wait.  We started talking to our fellow passengers, most of whom were gringos – was it a bad sign that the locals weren’t taking the route at all?  Ok, there were about 5 locals on the bus, but normally the ratio would be reversed.   Whilst we waited we held the annual Cusco balance bar championships of which Lee was the undisputed winner.  At 10am, half an hour after we were due to depart we finally spotted our bus easily identifiable by the graffiti plastered over the sides indicating it had made it through the road block at least once.  The bus promptly pulled up onto the curb 100m away and we watched as animated discussions between various staff members were held around the bus.  We can only assume they were debating whether to actually go or not… or how much extra ‘danger money’ the bus driver wanted to go. 

 

Eventually all demands were met and the bus actually pulled up ready for us to board and after only 3 hours or so of waiting we actually started moving.  2 minutes later we promptly stopped again and a rumour was passed around the Spanish speaking passengers that we actually weren’t going at all and were now heading back to the terminal.  5 minutes later the rumour had changed to we all had to pay a 1 sole bribe to get through the roadblock.  Neither of these were accurate and after filling up with diesel we actually got on the road.  Just as I was comfortably dosing off cries went up along the bus – are we falling off a cliff?  Are we being attacked by the protestors?  In reality the luggage was trying to make a break for it.  One of the doors had popped open as we turned the corner and our luggage was strewn for 100m down the main highway.  Luckily we picked it all up again and set off again, now not only worrying about the roadblock but about whether our luggage would still be there at the other end. 

 

Around 1 and a half hours outside of Cusco we hit the first rocks and continued to swerve from one side of the road to the other avoiding the boulders for about another half an hour when the bus stopped and the engine was turned off.  Then the rumour mill started up again.  We could walk for four hours to the next town where there may be a bus we could possibly catch.  Our bus was going to wait until nightfall and hope to get through the roadblock then.  We were all going back to Cusco to get our money back.  Most of the bus were voting for the 3^rd option, whilst the driver seemed keenest on option 2.  A few energetic types wanted to walk it, but when you’re only 2 hours into a 12 hour drive and don’t know how far it will be until you find another bus walking was not the top option for most people.  After a couple of hours though there was excitement, movement and we were all told to grab our bags and start walking. 

 

This is the moment when we found out Tour Peru had told us the truth – the bridge was damaged.  Although that seems a little like understatement to me.  The bridge in question was just before the main roadblock and it was obvious the protestors were not letting anyone through.  To prevent the use of the alternative route they had taken the simple measure of ripping up the wooden planks that made up the bridge.  The metal struts underneath were still there so that’s what we walked across with all our baggage in tow.  Feeling like laden donkeys we tight-roped across.  It turned out our bus driver had made a deal with another bus driver from Copacabana to swap passengers and pay some compensation.  So after only about 1km of walking we were able to jump on another bus and wait to see how far it would get us.

 

After 5 minutes we passed a bus that had not made it, turning one of the tight corners the undercarriage had separated from the rest of the bus and as we listened to the rattles and remembered that the front of our bus was missing we were not filled with confidence.  The alternative route was not able to be used by the bigger buses and we soon found out why.  The conductor was in and out of the bus helping the driver do three point turns around corners, dodge rocks, dodge the edge of the cliff and avoid driving into the 2m holes that the protestors had dug in the road.  By 5pm we were stopped again.  We thought just to pick up passengers, until we saw quite how many engine parts were being removed by the local mechanic.  We spent a couple of hours watching the drunks in the pub, buying some extra food supplies and trying to find a bathroom to use.  We watched as tour buses went past on their way to Cusco, with particular trepidation for the ‘Time Seniors Tour’ – picturing old ladies with walking sticks trying to maneuver across the metal struts of the bridge in the dark. 

It was also starting to get cold and we appreciated the bag with all our clothes we had put on the bus.  By the time we arrived in Puno we were wearing 4 jumpers each, a beanie, gloves and using our sarongs for blankets – we were still cold!!  It felt like being back in Banff but without appropriate clothing.  So after a delayed start, roadblocks, escaping luggage, a broken down bus and 9 hours of driving along bumby, windy dirt roads occasionally going over some of the rocks or into a ditch left by the protestors we arrived in Puno at 4am.  So what should have been a 6 hour journey under normal circumstances took a chilly 20 hours.  Now, we know we’re in South America.

 

Qosqo

You might know it better as Cuzco  but Qosqo is the Quechua spelling and finding your way around is made all the more complicated by the spellings varying between differing brochures, guidebooks, names on buildings and street signs. Cusco is a very nice city at least the old town or tourist district, enough so that we kept coming back between trips to Manu and Machu Pichu.  We got to experience some different moods of the city, once we got used to the fire works that are used for any large gathering or just to startle the pigeons we relaxed a lot more in our rooms particularly when trying to go to sleep, or when woken up by a particularly loud firecracker.

Cusco we saw as a sleepy town on a Sunday where many of the shops were closed and there wasn’t much movement around.  We saw the city bustling about it’s normal business of trying to sell the tourists, tours, massages, a quick shoe shine and enough paintings to fill the art galleries of Europe. 

But two events stick in our minds most, the first being a protest on the first day we were in the city, there were no taxis, but the police were present with large numbers from the traffic, the municipal police, the tourist police, and even the riot squad, all dressed very formally but with their gun holsters empty (Batons were still equipped however)  The rioters were seemingly without end as they stretched down the main road, businesses that were open firmly shut their doors before the mob reached them, the one store that failed to do so in time had fists of dirt and small stones thrown at them and protesters forcing their way in until the police stopped them.  But once the protest was over all the extra security disappeared quickly, except for the riot squad who had engine trouble, so after posing for a few photos while the engine was tinkered with ended up pushing their vehicle. 

The other event was the celebration of Cusco, of which we saw the first two days, the elderly dancers, and the under fives.  It appears that the majority of the inhabitants are required to learn their traditional dances as children many of which show themes that we guessed the meanings of, some we suspected demonstrated how they saw the Spanish when they arrived, others the relationship between men and women –men thinking they have control then ending up on their backside. 

Discovering the lost city of the Incas

Of course, Machu Picchu can hardly be considered lost anymore, rather the expensive city of the Incas.  There is no direct road between Cusco and Aguas Calientes (the town closest to Machu Picchu) which means getting there is either difficult or expensive or both.  You can pay $500 to walk there, $60 to catch a train or we met a few real budget travelers who were taking multiple buses probably over a few days then walking a few hours to get there.   After paying $60 for the 1 and a half hour train journey we arrived in Aguas Calientes which is described as a horrible overpriced small town by the guidebooks.  Surprisingly we liked it and didn't actually find it that overpriced (double room with private bathroom for $13).  It is in a valley surrounded by mountains with a beautiful river filled with huge boulders.   We then paid an extortionate amount for our entrance tickets ($40 each) and a totally ridiculous amount for the 20 minute bus ride up to the actual site ($14 each).   

The actual day didn't get off to the best start.  We woke up at 4:45am to make it to the bus stop by 5am where we got in line behind the 100 or so people who had been lining up since 4am to get on the first bus at 5:30am.   At the top we joined the line to get into Machu Picchu which opens at 6am.  There are a whole host of rules for entering Machu Picchu - the problem is some of them are so ridiculous you know they can't be enforced and it's impossible to know where the line will be drawn.  You are not allowed: water bottles, walking sticks, food, backpacks over 20 litres and the list goes on.  Jason went to the bag storage section to store our food and checked that our bag would be allowed in, he was told it would be fine.  But the guy on the gate was not having a good day.  Not only did our backpack get rejected but so did bags clearly labelled 18 litres, 14 litres and some that could not have been over 10 litres.  Whilst Jason tried to argue his bag through and then went to join the growing line of those checking their bags in I did not see him let a single backpack into the ruins.  People argued, cried, cajolled, attempted bribes but nothing worked, he was in a shitty mood and determined to spread his mood around the visitors.  Part of the reason that this was all quite so distressing is that most people arrive that early to obtain one of the 400 tickets to climb Waynapicchu.   After finally getting into the ruins with a water bottle, wishing we had grabbed the food bag (most people carried in a plastic bag with food) we sprinted to the other side of the ruins to get in line for Waynapicchu.  We were about 230th in the line, but luckily 150 people wanted to climb at 10am so we were able to climb at 7am.  

On the hike up Waynapicchu we bonded with the other climbers as we struggled directly up hill, on steps with a cliff face plunging to the valley below.  The views were absolutely spectacular though and we marvelled at the workers that had originally trekked up the hill carrying the stones to build the grain storage at the top of the hill.  After drinking in the view of Machu Picchu and the surrounding mountains we returned to the bottom for a closer look at the ruins.  We didn't have our own guide but with the multitude of tour groups wandering around the ruins we would have been hard pressed to avoid hearing bits and pieces from various different tour groups.   The site is quite spectacular, both for the actual ruins but more for the location.   

Down into the Amazon basin

From Cusco we decided to do a week long journey into the jungle.  Manu national park is supposed to be one of the best places in South America to go to the jungle if you want to see wildlife.  This is mainly because it is primary rainforest (not stuffed up by man).   We were also traveling with the cheapest tour we could find so the accommodation was definitely rustic - lots of cold showers and surprisingly it was cold in the jungle, particularly after dark.  

It is however a bit of a trek to get there.   The journey was broken up visiting pre-Incan tombs, spotting the 'cock of the rock' and seeing our first monkeys.  After the first 7 hours on the bus we reached the edge of Manu National Park, but it would be nearly 2 more days (mostly by boat) before we entered the reserved zone (which is pristine rainforest, whereas the buffer zone is an inhabited area).  That's not to say we didn't have a lot of fun on the way.  As well as spotting some birds, monkeys, frogs and bugs we went white water rafting and canopy zip lining.  In fact the zip line was so fun we went again the next day!!   There were four zip lines in total getting progressively faster as you went.  The second time we went I was feeling a bit more confident and even went upside down!    

During the week in the jungle we saw 77 species of birds, 9 species of monkey, giant otters, black and white caimans, 3 snakes, frogs, toads, beautiful butterflies, a rhinocerous beetle, spiders galore and of course thousands of mosquitos and sandflies.  Unfortunately we weren't able to get photos of everything we saw as the animals were generally a fair distance away (the canopy was at least 40m up in the air) and under the canopy it was very dark and difficult to get enough light for photos.   There were also interesting plants to be seen, such as the walking palm (that can walk up to 10cm a year), the penis tree (yes, we have a photo of that one, so you know where it got it's name),  the garlic tree which grows totally hollow and amazing fig trees that create labyrinths of roots.  Then there were the ants, like the bullet ant which is an inch long and can paralyse a limb if it bites you or the army ants which native people use instead of stitches - getting the ant to bite them and then ripping the body off leaving the head and pincers to hold the wound close, or the leaf cutter ants which use the leaves to farm the fungus that they eat.

Lima

By far and away the most interesting site we saw in Lima was the monastery.  I never knew that they could be so interesting!  Much to our dismay no photos were allowed anywhere within the monastery... this physically hurt when we were in the library.  But let me start at the beginning.  You are given a 'free' tour of the monastery (probably to make sure you stay where you are supposed to and don't take any photos), on our tour were us and a New Zealand guy who had been travelling around South America for 7 months.   The library houses around 24000 books, dating back to the 1100s and it is like every ancient library you have imagined.  In fact we suspect it has been used in a few movies.  The ancient texts, the spiral staircases leading up to the higher shelves, shafts of light coming in through the skylights with dust spiralling and the whole library built out of carved cedar polished till it shone. Ah.... beautiful.  From there we headed through the  elaborately carved chorister section, past paintings, through courtyards until eventually we reached the catacombs, where bones are piled in 4 meter deep pits.  What seemed very odd to us was that the bones were in coffins until the 1950s when they were taken out, according to our guide, to make it into a tourist attraction.  Weird.

Colca Canyon Condors

We left Ariquipa for a couple of days to do a quick trip to the Colca Canyon.  Which ever company we went with would likely prove irrelevant as here as elsewhere in South America there are far more tour booking offices then actual tour companies (despite claims by every agent that the bus is theirs!)

The tour involved a long bus trip to Chivay with a couple of stops to medicate ourselves with Coca (yes that’s coca not cocoa) in the form of sweets, tea or just chewing the leaves.  This is meant to help alleviate the symptoms of altitude sickness (and if you believe the hype stop you needing to eat, sleep, drink, keep you alert and any number of other side effects.. of course that sounds more like the effects from the processed form to me).  As we approached the high point on the road, marked by the thousands of small cairns of rock, each of which represents a wish made, we discovered one of the members of our party wasn’t handling the altitude very well.  We reached 4900m  the highest point we have ever attempted to walk  and we were both out of breath after just a few steps. We were a bit worried for the woman as she was planning to continue upward after the tour to do the Inca trail.  We were  grateful that we had spent the last 3 days at 2600m in Areiquipa so we had acclimatised a little.  (We suspect we went higher on the bus trip between Salta and San Pedro de Attacama but we sat the whole way for that.) 

From there we made our way down into the township of Chivay a spectacularly green valley after the barrenness of the road that we had journeyed along.  We were fortunate enough to see some of the local dancing in the town centre that we suspect was put on for one of the more expensive tours, (our organised dancing for dinner was somewhat less inspired).

Waking up for the second time the next day (our five o’clock wake up call was actually delivered at 1am!!!) we bundled into the bus to the Colca canyons.  We played the part of tourists on the way even paying to hold a hawk and take some photos.  Arriving a little early we walked up the path to the Condor view point that most tours take on the way out,  having it to ourselves was beautiful and relaxing.  Reaching the view point we were given two hours for the main event.  We hadn’t expected much as the photos in all the tour agents led us to suspect the condors wouldn’t come within 30 meters of us,  We were incredibly surprised as the morning went on different groups of condors would rise up on thermals out of the canyon some of which came well within 2 meters of us.  We spent a very happy two hours snapping pictures and enjoying the flight of the condors and other birds, the only disappointment was the “Traditional music” that a group of locals would play for the tourists disrupting the tranquillity of the place far more than the quantity of watchers would have.

Nuns... with servants

The highlight of Arequipa is the Monasteria de Santa Catelina.  The convent was founded in 1579, 40 years after the arrival of the Spanish to Arequipa.  Initially most of the nuns came from rich families and so the convent is a little more elaborate than you might expect as the nuns weren’t quite willing to give up their previous life.  There was however a pronouncement by the bishop sometime in the 1600s limiting each nun to only one servant.  The convent is absolutely beautifully and a warren of small streets and smaller rooms, with kitchens littered around everywhere.  Different sections of the convent show different periods of architecture as the convent has been built in sections, and occasionally destroyed by an earthquake.  There are currently 30 nuns still living their and the section they are in was built in the 1960s and is completely different to the sections that are open to tourists.   The nuns agreed with us in terms of where to eat, as on our last night eating at our favourite restaurant in Arequipa, there was a group of 6 nuns eating at the next table!

Explosions and Buses

We have now journeyed from Iquique Chile to Arequipa Peru, deciding that doing the trip in stages would preserve our sanity a little better we paused a night in Tacna. We departed Iquique early on a bus of the standard we had become accustomed to, but this would only get us to Arica. At the bus terminal we were deluged with offers from  taxi drivers to go to Tacna and beyond. The trust between Chile and Peru could be seen by looking around the town with its large military bases. 

We braved finding a colectivo (a shared Taxi) and made our way to Tacna, a contrast in technique occurred, the Chile officials had bare offices with a computer that they scanned the passports while Peru had a huge shiny building but the passports were entered manually and we suspect the metal detectors and xray machines were just for show (ellen walking though the metal detector with her backpack on containing scissors, cables, laptop - didn’t trigger a beep – although she was asked to put the bag through the xray machine, nor was our organic food noted on the xray machine.)

We spent the night in Tacna where we were awoken by something that sounded distinctly like a bomb going off.  A short while later the sirens that you associate with air raids started.  Followed by the sound of army marching songs.  “Has there been an invasion… Should we hide in the hotel?” but no much later in the day we found our that a gas plant exploded.  The departures terminal of Tacna we discovered where the people hoping to become auctioneers go.  The rapid loud, and astonishingly clear call of “Arequipa” by those trying to attract customers was incessant.  After a very uneventful (but much getting out of passports) bus trip we have arrived in Arequipa.

Here we did a most unusual thing for us.  Not feeling like traipsing around the second biggest city in Peru at 8pm with all our gear we went to the tourist information bureau and picked one of the three hotels they had on offer and got them to organise a taxi for us (the taxi paid on commission rather than by us).  This turned out to be an excellent move.  The hostel was one of the nicest hostels we’ve stayed in.  It was an old colonial house and our room had 14 foot ceilings covered in incredibly ornate moulding.  There were even some very nice touches, like the speakers for an MP3 player with the sign “Because music is important in life please attach your MP3 player or iPod.”  The only downside was that they had no free matrimonial rooms so we didn’t really want to stay there for more than one night.   So this morning we went for a walk and found another place to stay, not quite so nice but still a big step up from our Chilean accommodation, or that in Tacna.