Oh no, I´m a Tourist

So, after a couple of days recovery in Cusco after the Inca Trai, we headed down south to a town called Puno, on the banks of Lake Titicaca. Loads of signs proclaiming it to be the highest navigable lake in the world, but at 3900m or so, there must be mountain lakes higher that you could get a rubber dinghy out in, surely.

Anyhow, looked quite impressive as we rolled down the mountains into town. We were there to take a boat trip out onto the lake (or lago, as my now almost fluent spanish would have me say).

So, after a dodgy Chinese meal that layed Troy and Lianna low, we set out on a chuggy cabin cruiser to first off visit the floating reed islands of Uros. The guide book had somewhat prepared me for the rampant tourist commercialisation, but even so, this was the shammiest part of South America we´d encountered so far. Very interesting seeing the reed islands (where Thor Heyadal got the nouse to build Kon Tiki) but it was all for show. I guess without tourism, the skills would have been lost some time ago, but even so, the closest I´ve felt to this before was on a package tour to Bodrum in Turkey; an experience I vowed never to repeat.

Hey ho, still two islands to go. Next on the list was Taquile island. We were set down at a small port with the promise of a lovely hour long walk along the coast. And it was. Lovely. Then we got to the main village, where exhorbitantly priced handcrafts and poor value lunches awaited. This was also the first place where all the kiddies when they said hallo (common all over) also held out their hands begging.

Still, we still had the highlight of our trip to come. A homestay on Amantaní Island. A short boat trip took us to the landing spot, where we were greated by a band and dancing girls. Really. We were then divied out among the islanders, and Mike and I got billeted with Maritsa. Home was guest quaters separate from the main home. We took a trip up the main hill on the island to watch the sun set, which was great. Then back home for dinner.

We thought we´d be eating en famille, but no. Dinner was brought to our humble aboad, and we eat alone. The main man of the household (can´t remember his name) came and had a chat in spanish with us after, which was quite cool as I understood most of what he said, and could add a few pertinant comments myself.

Then it was on to the fiesta. Fuelled by some of Mike´s premixed vodka orange, and a large beer, it was onto the dancefloor all night. Ok, for an hour or so. Which is about all I could have managed anyway. Energetic dancing to say the least, and at around 4,000m it takes your breath away I can tell you.

An early breakfast, and then we were away back to Puno. And that was that. One or two good bits, with lots of tourisy stuff I hoped I´d be avoiding along the way.

I´m in La Paz now, highest capital city in the world. And I´ve been ill, so sypmathy please. Not heaps to do here, but we´re off tomorrow to look at silver mines on the Altiplano, then on to the salt flats.