Olympics at sunset in September

Olympics at sunset in September
Wedding Reception on Camano Island

2007-06-01

Island Time Part 1

As previously described, it was my destiny to be called back to Puno, despite attempts to pass through so quickly. I heeded Dante's advice and took a two-day trip to the local islands of Lake Titicaca (elev. 3810 meters- highest in the world.) The Uros are floating islands made of reeds. Though originally grounded in the lake (25 feet deep easily in the bay), the Uros islands break loose from the bottom during the rainy season when the lake (8560 square km- big!) rises up two meters (quite a bit of water, according to my mathematician friends). The Aymara-speaking Incan descendents then stack more reeds on top and the island becomes inhabitable. There are about 40 of these small floating islands, housing five to ten families with as many reed houses.

From that touristy stop, where I managed to learn a little bit of the Aymara language, we drifted to Amantani where the folks still use Quechua. (Remember, Quechua is the language reminant of the Incas who lived north of Puno- Peru and Ecuador- but Aymara is for places south of Puno- and into Bolivia). I was able to pratice the language another time as we arrived on an island for a homey experience. I stayed with Miguel, from Valencia, Spain , in Emiliana and Ruben's quaint island home. We ate the island-grown carrots and potatoes, eggs and breads in the forms of soups, stews and sandwiches, without any meat. Healthy and real describe that place- No wonder Ruben told us his uncle has been living for 130 years!!! Beautiful sunsets and sunrises left me in awe as I climbed to the tops of both Pachatata and Pachamama (Mother Earth and Father Earth)... The second day I had an amazing, fresh, Titcaca trout after a small tour of the island called Taquille (no, not the drink!)... and then the arrival in Puno. I finished up the investigation with the police and they encouraged me to continue the journey...

So, I tried crossing the border again... except this time, it was closed when our bus arrived. It was because the border and customs officials insisted on playing a soccer (fútbol) game... an international one. And it was impossible for anyone to pass until this happened. I joined up with three Brits, an Israeli and a Canadian to earn our way (and four busloads of people) across the border. We won 1-0 with the sheer determination to get to Copacabana that day... if we hadn’t won, who knows how long we would have been delayed. And, chalk one up for me... for the assist on the only goal! But running around at 3830 meters nearly killed me.

Hikichinikama (see you soon, in Aymara)

1 comment:

Traveling Wayne said...

Breath...

Futbol...

Traveling...

David Strich...