Monthly Archives: November 2005

Sucre Becons

November 9, 2005
Day 42

Early this morning, Matthieu, Julien, and I walked to the bus station to buy our tickets out of town. The bus we will be taking has seats that recline into full beds, and the 13-hour overnight ride will only cost $7.50 each. It's crazy how cheap things are here.

I was hungry when we were walking back from the bus station, so I grabbed some empanadas, which are basically just deep-fried pieces of bread with cheese, beef, or chicken inside, from a street vendor. Until that point, I had only eaten empanadas with cheese, but this place didn't have any of them, so I got one with beef and one with chicken instead. This would later prove to be a very bad idea.

I still had a few hours to kill before meeting the guy for the book exchange, so I decided to mail some stuff home. Matthieu and Julien figured they would want pizza too, so they agreed to meet me later at the same place. After walking down the extremely crowded main artery of La Paz, I found the post office. The guy who inspects the packages to make sure you aren't mailing bombs or coca leaves wouldn't be in for another hour and a half, so I left to torture myself at another Internet cafe. I went back to the post office and finished getting my stuff mailed at 2:45, only fifteen minutes before I was supposed to meet the guy at the pizzeria.

It would probably take thirty minutes to walk through the overcrowded streets from the post office to the pizzeria, so I decided to try and take a shortcut instead. I walked up a giant hill in generally the right direction, and thought about what a genius I was because the street was almost empty. Then, when I got close to where I thought the pizzeria was, I realized that I had no idea where I was. Nothing seemed familiar. The entire city of La Paz looks exactly the same except for the cathedral at the center of town, but that cathedral is only visible if you are a block or less away from it because it is at the bottom of a hill. I guess walking through random parts of a big city where you don't know any street names or even have a map is generally not the mark of a genius.

I thought about taking a cab, but I didn't know the name of anything in town, including my hostel, because it was a Quechua name that was impossible to remember. Finally, I remembered that my hostel was near the Solarium, another hostel. I got in a cab and told the driver to take me to the Solarium, but he didn't seem to know where it was. I told him that it was a few blocks up the hill from the cathedral, and he suddenly seemed to know where I was talking about. He drove around for about ten minutes and dropped me off. I still didn't know where I was, but he assured me that the cathedral was just a few blocks away. I started walking and saw a cathedral, but not the cathedral. I had no idea what to do, so I just kept walking until finally I saw something familiar: the post office!

I was right back where I started, but I didn't care anymore. I walked the long way to the pizzeria down the busy street and up the huge hill. I arrived almost an hour late in a ball of sweat, and the guy with the book was long gone. Matthieu and Julien had just finished their pizzas and were wondering what happened to me. When I told them I got lost, they chuckled but seemed to understand. Later, I borrowed one of their guidebooks and it actually said that it is nearly impossible to get lost in La Paz. Talk about adding insult to injury!

It was finally time to leave La Paz. The bus out of town was spacious and comfortable. It also stopped every five minutes, though, so it was very difficult for me to get any quality sleep. At one point in the middle of the night, we drove through a small town, and the people in the street started pounding on the outside of the bus. "Welcome to Bolivia," I thought. I probably slept for eleven out of the thirteen hours I was on the bus, but it was such poor-quality sleep that it was the equivalent of only about two hours in a regular bed. At least I made it to Sucre in one piece.

Ready to Leave La Paz

November 8, 2005
Day 41

Today, Diego, Lloyd, Matthieu, Julien, and I decided to go to the Tiahuanaco ruins. First, we got on one of the "combi" bus-vans which drove us for an hour to the general area of the ruins. Next, we walked about fifteen minutes to the entrance. We learned that it would cost 80 bolivianos, or ten dollars, to enter. It may not seem like much, but it's easily enough to last an entire day in Bolivia, a lot of travelers are college students on very tight budgets, and the locals only had to pay two bolivianos each to get in. This is one of the many issues of traveling that I have had mixed feelings about. On the one hand, the government is clearly gouging the tourists. On the other, at least the locals get to enter for a price they can afford. I think it's really sad, for example, that most Peruvians will never get to walk the Inca Trail because they can't afford the outrageous $300 price tag to do so. Anyway, Diego, Mathieu, and Julien decided that the price of admission wasn't worth it and agreed to meet Lloyd and I later.

Tiahuanaco is probably the most important archaeological site in all of Bolivia. Built over 3500 years ago, it represents one of the oldest cultures of the area. The problem is that it is still being excavated, so there isn't a whole lot for the layman to look at. Lloyd and I walked around for awhile, looked at the pillars, the faces on the walls, and the subterranean temple, and called it quits when it started to pour.

Also included in the price of admission was the museum, which was more interesting than the actual ruins. The museum was full of ancient artifacts including pottery, textiles, and deformed skulls. Of course, I wasn't allowed to take pictures of anything there except the mural at the entrance that represented what Tiahuanaco originally looked like.

When Lloyd and I found the others, we headed back to La Paz. Even though the site was very important to archaeologists, I don't think it was worth the effort of trying to find a bus to drive us an hour there and back and paying the admission fee. Maybe in a few years when it's done being excavated it will be better, though.

When we got back into town, we went for a long walk through the markets. Every day, farmers from the area bring their crops and animals to the city to sell to the local people. You can buy anything at these markets, including fruit, flowers, and freshly-killed chickens. A lot of vendors on the street buy this food and cook it up right there for passers-by to eat.

We kept walking to the seemingly endless streets aligned with electronics and clothing shops. Bootleg DVD's, stolen CD players, off-brand designer clothes, and brand new digital cameras were being sold everywhere. After seeing the same stuff for sale over and over again for half an hour straight, I began to wonder how every shop could possibly stay in business, yet somehow they all do.

After doing so much walking and looking at food, we decided to get a real meal at a pizzeria. A guy eating at the restaurant happened to be going toward Peru and had a Bolivian guidebook, so we agreed to trade our books tomorrow at the same place. Until this point, I had been relying on the word of mouth of other travelers to figure out where to go and what to do in Bolivia, so this will be a welcome trade for me.

Internet cafes are absolutely everywhere here, and unlike Copacabana, they are reasonably-priced, so I decided to go to one on the way back from lunch to get my website updated. That was a really bad idea. Not only did my computer still use Windows 98 (which makes it very cumbersome for me to upload photos), but I think it was made around 1988. I couldn't believe how slow the system was. After two hours of getting absolutely nothing done, I figured I had tortured myself enough and left. On my way back to the hostel, I passed by some more Internet cafes, but their computers looked equally crappy, and it was about to get dark (and therefore dangerous), so I decided to wait until at least tomorrow to try to use the Internet again.

At night, a bunch of us just basically hung out and exchanged old photographs. Lloyd gave me the photos from his trip so far. He has only been traveling for five days and already has taken over 500 pictures. And I thought I overused my camera! Also, Matthieu, Julien, and I decided to get the hell out of La Paz tomorrow night. We will take a 13-hour bus ride to Sucre, which is supposed to be much nicer than La Paz. I've heard way too many stories of tourists getting robbed and murdered here to want to stay any longer.

The photo album for this entry is here.

Just Another Big City

November 7, 2005
Day 40

Today I headed out of Copacabana with Matthieu and Julien from France, who I had met on my two-day island tour around Puno. We rode on a small bus with only tourists. This was not the type of luxury bus to which I had become accustomed in Peru; our luggage had to be put on top. At least nobody had to stand, which is the norm in Peru.

After riding the bus for an hour, we reached the ferry. I had been told about the ferry when I bought my bus ticket. We had to cross the lake to get to La Paz, so the bus would have to be loaded onto a boat to make the crossing. I had pictured something like what I had ridden across the Irish sea a few years back: a huge ship that could carry hundreds of buses and thousands of people. Man, was I ever wrong. When the bus stopped at the lake, I couldn't believe my eyes. The "ferry" was just a flat boat barely big enough to carry the bus, let alone any people. The bus drove forcefully onto the boat, causing it to disembark and causing the military that was overseeing the operation to scramble to jump onto it. I was told that there was an accident a few years back, so the passengers had to be taken across separately. Somehow, I still didn't feel too safe riding across the lake in a tiny, overcrowded boat powered by a 55 horsepower motor.

When the bus and its passengers all made it safely to the other side, we began our two-hour journey to La Paz, Bolivia's biggest city and current capital. When we were almost there, the bus driver stopped to let us take pictures of the city from above. La Paz is the world's highest capital at over 3800 meters, and looking onto it from even higher up, it actually looked rather serene. There didn't seem to be much personality to it, but it still seemed like a good place to spend a few days. I would soon find out how silly that thought was.

As soon as I got off the bus in the center of the city, I noticed how polluted it was. The car exhaust was almost unbearable, garbage was laying all over the place, and everything smelled bad. It turned out that the city was also very dangerous.

As Julien, Matthieu, and I walked to try to find a hostel, a police officer insisted on accompanying us. When we got to the hostel, she gave us a lecture for ten minutes about how we should never walk alone, never carry anything valuable with us, and basically never leave the hostel because the whole city was too dangerous to see. When I suggested that I would take a taxi instead of walking, which I thought was a good piece of advice, she gasped in horror. She said I should always write down the number of the cab, never get into a cab that already had passengers, and never allow more passengers to join me or I would surely be murdered. I had broken all of these rules in the more laid-back cities I had visited, so this was a big change of pace for me. Suddenly, I wanted to get out of La Paz as soon as possible.

It turned out that several other people from my bus were trying to score rooms in the same hostel. After some haggling, Diego, from Argentina, talked the owner into a group discount of 30 Bolivianos(about $4) each per night. Once we were settled in, we all decided to get dinner together.

One of the people in the group was Lloyd, from Thunder Bay, Canada. He wasn't afraid to take his camera out for all to see in the middle of the street and take lots of pictures. Every five minutes, somebody would remind him to hide his camera, but he kept taking pictures anyway. I thought he was crazy at the time, but later he showed me his results. Many of the pictures of Puno and La Paz on this website were actually shot by him.

On the way to dinner, we passed the witch's market. The main item for sale was llama fetus, but there were also plenty of other folk remedies available. Everything was clearly displayed for all to see, and none of the locals reacted with any degree of surprise upon seeing any of it. Clearly, we weren't in Peru anymore.

Eleven of us went out to dinner together. Between us, we represented six countries: France, Argentina, USA, Singapore, Peru, and Canada. We also represented a wide range of ages: 25 to 70. It seems like a diverse group, but traveling brings together people from all walks of life.

Later at night, I basically just socialized with several people at my hostel. One guy had just bought two new guitars for less than $100. He was so excited at the great deal he had gotten that he played for us the whole night. It was a bit difficult for me to communicate with others, though, because of the massive amount of French people who were there. I think I'll need to learn some French at some point. I've already missed out on many conversations because I don't know the language.

Photos of the journey to La Paz
La Paz City Photos

The Island of the Sun

November 6, 2005
Day 39

My hostel is the cheapest place I've stayed at so far ($2.50 per night), but it's also in a bad location. There are several bus companies nearby, so people continuously shout "La Paz" right outside my window as soon as the sun rises. Also, the curtains in my room are highly translucent, so the sun shines right into my eyes very early in the morning. Well, at least breakfast is included.

As I was packing up my stuff for the day, I accidentally dropped my already-broken small camera on the ground. "Oh no," I thought, "I probably broke the LCD screen and now it will never work." Much to my amazement, when I turned it on to assess the damage, it worked! I guess the lens just needed a jolt to get going again.

Today I decided to see the Island of the Sun, the only major attraction around town. When I got onto the boat, I noticed that several people from my Peruvian island tour and my Inca Trail trip were on the same trip, which probably shouldn't surprise me considering how often old friends reunite here. It was another long, slow ride of two hours to the island.

When we got to the island, we went through a small museum and walked to some ruins. One of the highlights of the ruins was the stone that was used for animal, and possibly human, sacrifices. The other highlight was the rock that supposedly looked like a puma. Our guide literally risked his life to show us the parts of the rock that represented the eyes and mouth of the puma. After we started saying "OK, OK, we believe you. It looks like a puma," he finally climbed down and told us about the mysterious energy the rock emitted when touched. I put my hand on it, but it just felt cold. We must have looked like a bunch of idiots trying to draw energy from a rock.

After the ruins, we were on our own to walk three hours over the center of the island. It was a somewhat difficult walk at 4000 meters altitude with some decent scenery, but we were really rushed to make it back on time. I walked at a fairly fast pace, and I still only got to the boat a few minutes before it left.

When the boat left, it immediately started rocking violently back and forth. The lake water was extremely rough. Water began crashing over the sides. I kept thinking that I could probably swim to the side if the boat sank, but my nice camera would get wrecked. We were supposed to visit another monument before going back, but it was impossible to dock, so we made the long, rocking journey back to the mainland. We made it back safely, but it got scary for awhile, especially considering that the entire time, the boat was being driven by a ten-year-old with a 75 horsepower Johnson.

In the afternoon, I took care of laundry. In the process, I found out how hard it is to wash clothes here. The first place I went to wouldn't take my clothes because I didn't have enough. The second place couldn't get them done before noon, when I had to leave for La Paz. The last place said at first that they couldn't get them done, but finally agreed to take them. I was skeptical, but I wanted clean clothes, so I gave them up, hoping they would be done in time.

Tonight, I went out to dinner with some of the people from my Puno islands tour. We had a great time chatting away and drinking our free piña coladas before checking out a band that played traditional Cuban and Columbian music. They were amazing, but they stopped playing shortly after we got there. I found out that the band's main member was a guy from France who also owned the bar. Moving away and opening a bar suddenly has a new appeal for me.

The photo album for this entry is here.

Copacabana

November 5, 2005
Day 38

The bus to Copacabana left early, so I only was able to get three hours of sleep last night. Luckily, it was the most comfortable bus I had ridden in so far with nice seats and plenty of legroom, so I had no problem falling asleep almost as soon as we left.

When we got near the border, I filled out a customs declaration form and changed my money to Bolivianos, the Bolivian currency. There was a short line at the Peruvian customs office where I received my exit passport stamp. Next, I had to walk 100 meters or so through no man's land across the border and wait in line for the Bolivian customs. It was a very simple process as nothing of mine was searched and I didn't have to deal with needing a return ticket. Unfortunately, however, I only got thirty days to stay in the country, whereas Peru had given me 90.

Copacabana is a small tourist town near the border of Bolivia and Peru on the shore of Lake Titicaca. As soon as I got into town and found a hotel to stay at I took a long nap as I was still tired from last night's festivities.

After my nap, I walked around for a bit and discovered that the Internet costs seven times as much here as it did in Peru because they have to run a phone line into town from La Paz. This also means that it is a lot slower than I'm used to, so I think I'll avoid using it for a few days until I get to La Paz. I also stopped by a few camera shops hoping to get my small camera fixed, but the consensus was that nobody in town would know how to fix it, so that will have to wait until La Paz, too.

Late in the afternoon, I walked around a bit more and watched a nice sunset over the lake. Bolivia is an hour ahead of Peru, so the sun sets at around 7:00 here, which is a nice change of pace for me. I was far too tired to do anything at night, so I just went to bed early in preparation for another long day.

The photo album for this entry is here.

Questions Answered

About a week ago, Rohit asked some interesting questions. I don't think everyone will see the answers if I responded by commenting, so I'll create an entry just for the answers.

1) what people(hostel and places you visit) think of US of A?
Generally, most of the travelers I have met don't have a problem with Americans. They understand that it's a very big country with lots of people, and they don't judge you by where you're from. I've learned to do the same with them.

Local people seem to like us too, but of course, we also support them with tourist dollars. However, I don't think they differentiate much between western cultures, either. I have a really hard time convincing them that I'm not rich, though. They see someone who could afford a plane ticket so South America and assume that they are made of money. Still, it's a touchy subject. In many ways, we are rich. We have so much more than most people I meet. People just don't understand how expensive our country is and that most people in the US are barely getting by.

The thing I don't like is how a lot of people dress up in traditional clothes just to try and make a living when tourists take pictures of them. I worked hard at a real job for several years to save up for this trip, and a lot of people think that I somehow owe them money just because they are dressed a certain way. I actually have caved and payed off a few of the people in some of my pictures, but usually I avoid taking the photo altogether. Once again, it's a touchy subject, one that I don't normally discuss with people I meet, but most tourists seem to resent paying for photographs when so many people here work so hard doing real jobs.

2) What people think of George Bush
This may come as a big surprise, but most of the locals I have met don't really talk about him one way or another. They'd rather talk about their own country's politics.

The few who have talked about Bush have said that he's crazy. One taxi driver in Arequipa told me that a private company in the USA was contracting with Peruvians to go to Iraq and help out. They were offering work Visas in the USA if they stayed in Iraq for a year. A lot of local people were killed because of the temptation of a better life. Of course, a lot of it might not be true, but it was still an interesting discussion.

The travelers I talk to, including the Americans, almost universally hate him. It's almost become such a given that he's a horrible person that it doesn't even come up in discussions often. The only thing that bothers me is that a few people I've met have said that they won't travel to the USA anymore because they don't agree with the politics there. Of course, they still are willing to go to Peru, where Fujimori, the country's last president, is now in exile in Japan after getting caught stealing millions of dollars. I just don't see how you can exclude ever going to a country simply because you disagree with its politics.

3) Iraq war comes to discussion?
The answer is almost the same as the Bush answer, except there is more of an "I told you so" attitude among the Europeans I talk to. The Brits sometimes say something like "What's done is done, leaving now won't help," but almost everyone I talk to is against it. This doesn't exactly mean that everyone in the world is against it because I haven't met a microcosm of the world. People who travel to South America for several months at a time generally have a more hippie-like attitude towards world politics than people in general.

So generally, the answer to the first three questions is that most people don't have a problem with Americans in general, but they do hate Bush and are very against the Iraq war.

4) Any regrets, yet
I wish I would have started in Ecuador instead of Peru. Apparently, Ecuador has everything Peru has, and it's in a lot smaller area. Also, I completely missed out on the northern part of Peru, which still has a lot to see and is less touristy than the south. Still, I had a good reason for choosing to start with Peru: I had to be in Cusco a month after I started my trip for the Inca Trail. I didn't want to be too far away and risk missing the deadline, so I started in Lima to be safe.

I also wish I would have visited Ica between my visits to Pisco and Nazca. I thought it was just a desert town without much to see, so I skipped it. However, everyone I've talked to who has been there has loved it. Riding the dune buggies and going sandboarding have been the highlights of most peoples' trips. I guess you can't do everything, though. Or, maybe I'll still get a chance to do those things at the end of my trip.

5) Any light bulb or aha moments? something like intresting thats what they do because….(I agree may be I overread some of this, but some stuff you run into that is just different and you will remember)

The biggest thing I've noticed is how labor-intensive this culture is. What I mean by that is that a lot of stuff that would be automated in our society is done manually here. For example, in the bus-vans they have here, there is always one guy driving and another guy shouting where they are going out the window and collecting money. This guy wouldn't exist in our culture, but labor is so cheap here, you might as well have him.

Another example is the number of police officers whose only job is to change the traffic lights from red to green or even to stand still and watch people walk past them. The only times cops direct traffic in the US are when the traffic lights fail and at very busy intersections during the busiest time of day, but here they are everywhere, all the time. I don't think it has to do with crime, either. Sucre, Bolivia, where I'm writing this, feels as safe as anywhere I've been in the US, but there are still traffic cops all over.

A final example of human labor being important is doing laundry. There are no laundromats here; there are only "lavandarias." Instead of having a big room with lots of washers and driers, there is just a lady who has one washer and one drier who does your laundry for you. All you have to do is drop off your clothes, and the next day, they are washed, dried, folded, and neatly put into a bag for you. All of this only costs about $1 per kilo, too. Of course, you have to wait up to a day to get your clothes back, but you don't have to do any work, either. Once again, I think it comes down to cheap labor. In the First World, we'd rather cut back on labor costs by automating jobs, but in the Third World, automation would mean less jobs available, and it wouldn't save much money because labor is so cheap.

Now that I've answered those questions, I'm going to take the liberty of asking and answering a few more questions.

6. What is your favorite part of the culture you are in?
I love how available everything is. On every block in every city I've been to, there are at least two general stores, one restaurant, and one Internet cafe. When I need something, I can almost always find it quickly. And if I need to go further away, taxis are everywhere. I've never had to wait more than thirty seconds for one, and I rarely have to pay more than $1.

7. What is your least favorite part of the culture you are in?
There are two things that I equally can't stand. One of them is the difficulty in changing money. When I get money from an ATM, it gives me all 100's, and maybe a few 50's if I'm lucky. Then I try to buy a bottle of water:

Him: "That'll be one sol."
Me: "Here's fifty."
Him, with disgusted look on his face: "I can't change that."

My business has actually been turned away several times because the cashier couldn't make change. I've even had trouble paying with a ten sol note a few times! It's also very difficult to spend flawed money, especially in Peru. If there is even a small rip, crease, or smudge in the bill, it becomes worthless. That goes for American money, too. Spending money has become such a problem that every day, I go through a painful guess-and-check process of trying to spend my worst bills first.

Me: "Will you take this perfect, crisp, new 100 sol bill?"
Him: "No, I don't have change."
Me: "How about this slightly used fifty?"
Him: "It's barely in good enough condition, but I still don't have enough change."
Me: "How about this twenty with a tiny tear on the bottom?"
Him: "I can change a twenty, but I won't take that one."
Me: "Fine, take my last five sol coin. Now I'm completely screwed for the rest of the day."

Luckily, this problem is not nearly as bad in Bolivia as it is in Peru, mainly because the Bolivian 100 is only worth $13 or so, and because Bolivia doesn't have as big of a problem with counterfeit notes as Peru has.

The other problem I have here is that it seems like every doorway, table, and chair are designed to destroy my head and knees. I can't enter a room without having to duck considerably. I've hit my head on doorways countless times. Tables almost universally have a bar underneath them whose sole purpose is to break my kneecaps when I sit down. Seriously, you could remove the bar and the table would be just as stable. And buses are the worst. On almost every bus I've ridden on, my knees are already pressed against the seat in front of me, even under the best possible conditions. But that's not enough. The seats all recline, and everyone takes advantage. I either have to put my knees in the isle or press them against my face, but they still end up getting smashed. This society has a secret hatred of tall people.

The runners up for the award of "Things I Don't Like Here" include how loud it is, and how the concept of standing in line has not yet emerged.

So, what other questions do you have for me? I'll try to answer anything you ask as I get time to do so. Just post a comment in this, or any future blog entry.

Lake Titicaca Island Tour Day 2

November 4, 2005
Day 37

After sleeping so much yesterday, I woke up shortly after sunrise. I had a small breakfast, said goodbye to my host family, and got back onto the tour boat. Amantani was a tranquil place with a great view of the lake, but I was still glad to head back toward civilization.

We still had one more stop on our tour: the island of Taquile. It was clearly visible when we left Amantani, but it still took over an hour to get there, which made it seem like we weren't moving at all.

Taquile seemed a little bit bigger and more modernized than Amantani, but it was still a long way from the mainland. We took a three-hour stroll over the center of the island past many farmers working in the fields and moving their animals across the island. At the center of the island was a small plaza consisting of a few stores, a church, and a museum that exhibited some local photography.

We continued walking to the other end of the island, where we ate lunch at a nice restaurant with a spectacular view of the lake. On the menu that day was fresh trout, which were introduced to Titicaca from Canada. The Canadians in my tour group suddenly had a great sense of pride when they heard about that one.

After lunch, we passed through an arch indicating that it was time to walk down 500 steep steps to the shore. We got on the boat and rode three hours back to the mainland. Several of us decided to get together later in the evening as it was Puno Week and there were lots of festivities in town.

The town was crazy that day. At 3:00 PM, a parade was going through the main streets. Thousands of people dressed in traditional costumes, as well as a few gorilla suits, danced through the streets toward the Plaza de Armas. I learned that it was Puno's birthday and people had come from all over Peru to celebrate. At 9:00 PM, when I met the others from my tour, the parade was still going strong. After celebrating Halloween, the Day of the Living, the Day of the Dead, and now Puno's birthday on successive days, I didn't think the party would ever end. When I finally got back to my hotel at 3:00 AM, I knew that I had ended my stay in Peru properly.

Taquile Photos
Photos of Puno

Lake Titicaca Island Tour Day 1

November 3, 2005
Day 36

Today I started my two-day-long tour of some of the islands on Lake Titicaca near Puno. Not really knowing what to expect, I stocked up on water, packed a few essential supplies, and took a short bus trip to the lake, where I boarded a boat with twenty five or so other people.

We rode on the very slow boat for about half an hour through the marshy area of the lake before arriving at the floating islands of the Uros people, who created their own islands out of reeds to flee from the oppression of the Collas and the Incas. Immediately upon stepping onto the first island, I noticed the unstable ground. The entire island was made out of reeds from the surrounding marsh that need to be replaced every few months before they rot through. Still, the island was strong enough to support several huts, an observation tower, and some other buildings, including a school. A lot of people rode to the next floating island on the same reed boats that the local people use in their everyday lives. The second island looked roughly the same as the first, except it also sported a public telephone hut! So much for maintaining the traditions of thousands of years.

Next, we road to Amantaní­, a real island that took three hours to reach in our slow-moving boat. Upon arriving, each person from the tour was assigned to a local family to stay with. I walked with the mother of my family to her house through several makeshift pathways that weaved their way around the various crop fields that covered the island. The house was made of mud bricks and the doors were only five feet high. I was lead into a simple room with three beds and a light. I would later find out that the house didn't have electricity, so I guess the light bulb was there to improve the room's Feng Shui.

There wasn't much for me to do, so I took a nap for a few hours and was awoken to find that lunch was ready. The soup I had was typical Peruvian: potatoes mixed with a few vegetables. The main course was a bowl of two different types of potatoes, followed with a cup of mate de coca, which had become a staple of my everyday diet. The lunch wasn't too bad; I just wished it contained something non-tuber-based.

After lunch, I met the other people in my group in the main part of the town and we walked to the ruins of Pachamama and Pachatata (Mother Earth and Father Earth) at the top of the island. With no roads or cars, the walk to the top was nice and quiet, but the altitude of 4000 meters made it a little bit difficult. The view of the lake from the top was great. We might as well have been the only people on Earth. We watched a cloudy sunset and made our way back down.

My host mother was waiting for me at the bottom. She walked me back to her house in the darkness. Luckily, she had a flashlight, something I hadn't thought to bring. I had a bowl of rice and more potatoes for supper as we chatted about life on the island. It turned out that the couple was only 24, and they already had three kids. They had no electricity, no running water, and few possessions other than the house itself and a donkey. It really made me appreciate what I had.

Next, my host father walked me to the dance at the center of town. On the way, he lent me a traditional hat and poncho to keep warm. I thought it was a nice gesture, but I later would find out that all of the tourists wore the same clothing. The dance hall was a basic room with a few lights, some chairs, and a makeshift bar stocked with Cusqueña, the local beer. Soon after I got there, a band walked in and started playing. Everyone began dancing and having a good time. After an hour or so, the locals were all yawning. I don't think they were used to staying up much past dark. When the dance ended at 9:30, I was once again led back to my room, and I went straight to bed.

The photo album for this entry is here.

On to Puno

November 2, 2005
Day 35

After waking up and packing up all of my stuff, I said goodbye to Cusco this morning. I had been in the area for almost two weeks, so it felt good to move on.

The bus ride to Puno was really long and slow. I went during the day because I thought it would only take six hours, but it actually ended up taking eight. The bus kept moving extremely slowly, like 20 MPH down the open road. I knew we were on a slight incline, but I still didn't understand why we would be going so slowly. Then I saw a sign that listed our altitude: 4100 meters (13,451 feet). I didn't even realize they had roads that high! Cusco sits at 3300 meters (10,827 feet), so I guess the incline was a little steeper than I thought. After spending most of my day in the bus, I finally arrived in Puno.

As soon as I got into town, I found a place to stay and set up a tour of the islands of Lake Titicaca for the next two days. I will be staying in a local islander's house overnight, so it should be an interesting experience. I will continue to Copacabana, Bolivia on Saturday.

More Rest

November 1, 2005
Day 34

It's impossible to sleep here. For the last two nights, there hasn't been any room at my hostel except in the big dorms. I didn't think it would be too bad, but I didn't realize that people never sleep here. Every day, lots of people have to get up at 5:00 AM to go on the Inca Trail. This alone would be no problem except for the fact that every night, lots of people go out partying until 6:00 AM or later. This means that there is no time where everyone is sleeping, so it is always noisy here. I guess I shouldn't complain because there are million other places in town I could move to, but I really like the atmosphere here. It's a tough trade off. Luckily, tonight I can move to a room with only four beds, so I should be able to get more sleep.

This was another day spent on catching up on everything other than sleep. Among other things, I took my camera to several places to get looked at, but none of them had technicians handy, and I'm planning on leaving town tomorrow, so I will have to wait some more before it gets fixed.

I took it easy tonight and played cards with some people at my hostel. At some point tomorrow, I'm going to attempt to travel to Puno, which will be my last stop in Peru. It's hard to believe that I've been here almost five weeks already, but I guess I've also done a lot in that time. I will definitely miss Peru, but I feel like it's time to move on, and I'm excited to see Bolivia, the next country I will go to.