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Greetings from Peru!
Well, actualy from La Paz, Bolivia, just outside of Peru. The border crossing was the easiest yet, with a minimal of hassle and just a small sea of people to negotiate. I was a little nervous, being solo (when there were two of us, one would go in the customs or immigration office and take care of business while the other waited outside to watch the stuff) so I paid a kid a few soles to watch the bike. He helped me find the proper offices, told me what papers to bring where and watched everything while I was there. I saw him fiercely keeping the passersby from getting close to the bike, which was possibly a little overkill, but certainly better than the alternative. Not a bad deal for about a buck!
The last time I wrote I was in Cusco, where I parted ways with Phillipe. While there I managed to get yet another cold/flu (urghhhhh!), so I spent a few more days recovering there. I don’t know why I have spent so much time sick here, but I suppose it is due to the bacteria and germs I am exposed to here. Who knows? Anyway, I packed up on April 2nd, and headed for Puno, on Lake Titicaca. It was a challenging, but beautiful ride across the altiplano. I still had a cold, so that took a lot of the fun out of it, and being at such high altitude made it more of a challenge. Whatever, I got there.
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Downtown Cusco
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Puno
Puno, a small port town founded in 1668, was busy and noisy, with rickshaw taxis buzzing around like knats and the diesel fumes from the many busses thick in the air. The town was not pretty, for the exception of the lake front, which other than the little restaurant street which I called “gringo row”, seemed to be it’s only calling card. I did the hotel dance, going 1st to a place that got a good mention in the lonely planet guide book. They were really nice, but didn’t have any place to park the bike. So I opted for their recommendation, which was a multi story tourist nest, with separate pay parking, but it had hot water 24 hours. I believe it cost about , and it was clean, so I took it.
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That evening I booked with a tour operator to go see the islands of the lake the next day. They picked me up at the hotel at 6:45am (not exactly my favorite time to get out…) and shuttled me, along with the other tourists, down to the lakefront where the boat was waiting. Titicaca is just over 13K feet, one of the highest lakes on the planet, and it was really cold. The first stop was Uros, the first of a series of floating islands off the Puno coast. The “Islas Flotantes” are quite interesting; many centuries ago, in an effort to isolate themselves from Incan attacks, the Collas built an island, constructed of totora reeds, which grow plentiful around the lake. As the reeds rotted from beneath, they were replaced with fresh ones from atop. As the tribe grew, so did the number of islands until there was an entire “floating” community. A few of them still live there, partially for the benefit of the tourist, and they sell their crafts as the tour boats file in. The “ground” was kind of squishy to walk on, I couldn’t imagine living like they did.
From Uros, we took a 2 hour ride to the isle of Tequile. Tequile, inhabited for thousands of years by Quechua speaking Indians, felt more like an island in the Medeterian than one in Peru. Uros is an interesting situation: the Indians live a cooperative life, where the main industry is tourism. So each person does the job of entertaining the tourists, cooking, weaving and farming the island, building the buildings and in return gets to live there, as they have for thousands of years, with the uninterrupted traditions that seem so foreign to westerners. For instance, the men wear colorful hats that resemble old timy knight caps. If there are only two colors, then they are single, more colors represent married. Another odd custom was the women who whisper. Little girls, dressed in their colorful Indian garb would approach the tourists and ask to have their picture taken, in exchange for a small tip. The amusing part, however, was that they would whisper. I began to notice after a while that it wasn’t just the children, it was all of the women of the island. It was explained to me later that it is required of all of the women of the island to whisper when speaking to a man as a sign of respect. Guess the woman’s lib thing hasn’t quite reached that island just yet…..
The next morning, I packed up and headed out, for yet another border crossing (see above). I made it to La Paz with a minimum of hassle, which was surprising considering the size of the city. It is nestled in the valley, between two mountains, at a very high altitude. The view while driving in was quite nice, as the road was carved into the steep slopes of the mountains, offering an amazing view. I made a wrong turn, however, and got a unexpected tour of El Alto, which once was a suburb of La Paz, but now is one of the fastest growing slums, uh, I mean cities in South America. It wasn’t very nice, and I fought my way through the traffic as quickly as possible and got back to the road to La Paz.
Once in La Paz, I found a hostel not far from the centro. There I met some folks from Canada (French speaking part) and some folks from Isreal (for some reason, Israelis seem to flock to South America after the mandatory service in the army) and spent some time going to dinner and hanging out with them. I also did a walking tour of the cities markets, which was quite interesting. Not quite as hectic as the markets of Guadalajara, they were a little more diverse with things like the “witch’s market”, where one could purchased bat tails and the like, for the evening spells. Afterwards I found the music stores, where I purchased a small guitar like instrument called a churango. I had it shipped to my parents house for safekeeping, as I couldn’t possible carry one more thing on the bike.
Next I will be heading down to Uyuni to the worlds largest salt flat. Stay tuned!
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Grass Huts on Uros
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