The Happy Couple

In the morning, before heading off on our floating islands tour, I had a small run-in with the weirdo control freak of a hostel owner. There were two small jugs of coffee by the rest of the breakfast things, which I thought was a bit odd since there were quite a few rooms, but I assumed he must periodically refill them. I helped myself to a cup of coffee, leaving behind maybe a third of one little jug, and before I sat down in my seat the owner was at my side saying “THINK!!” and tapping the side of his head: “Twelve breakfast and twelve coffees. Take only a small amount and fill up with hot water”. He looked like he was about to explode, so I just returned to the jug and slopped most of my cup of coffee back in the jug and dribbled in a bit of hot water. The coffee hadn't been very good the day before, so I didn't want to make it taste any worse. “You are crazy!” he continued ranting, “It's too strong! You'll make yourself ill! CRAZY!”. I wonder who the crazy one is. His coffee started off weaker than the espresso I normally have a mug of for breakfast at home, so I don't think I was in imminent danger of ill health from his pathetic microwaved filter coffee. Looney!

Native fish

Someone we had met in Asia, who was doing their RTW trip the other way around from us told us about the Islas Flotantes in Lake Titicaca. We had been told how amazing it was because these people were originally from some Pacific islands, but had experience xenophobia when they arrived in South America, so instead took to building entire islands made of reeds in the middle of the lake, to keep them safe from xenophobic harm, and the descendants of these same people are still living there more than a thousand years later; it does seem incredible, however I had read nothing since that corroborated this exact explanation.

On the (very slow again) boat on the way to the reed islands, our guide, who for once really was a bilingual guide and translated everything she said, whichever language came out first, started to tell us the story of these people, the Uros people. According to her they were living there, along with many other ethnic groups, before the Inca Empire arose around the Lake Titicaca area. As I listened I wondered how on earth the others had got the impression that they were from the Pacific islands. The guide went on to explain that the Incas wanted to charge high taxes on the land around the Lake, where the Uros had been living; it was for this reason, she said, that they moved onto the lake, simply because they could not afford to pay the land taxes. Then after telling us what a peaceful people they were, who didn't want conflict with the Incas, she said that they were able to continue their pacific way of life on the floating islands on the lake. Was that it? Was it the confusion between pacific and Pacific that led our friends to believe they came from Polynesia or somewhere? I wondered if they had taken the exact same tour, with the same guide and her preference for pacific over “peaceful”.

Main group of floating islands

Anyway, the Uros people are apparently still living the same lifestyle as many hundreds of years ago, although it is now being heavily influenced by tourism, and intermarrying with the surrounding Aymara people means that less and less are they a people in their own right, and more and more are they becoming absorbed into mainstream Peru, just another part of the tourist industry. Oh well, things change, and I'm sure they are better off weaving colourful clothes and making ornaments for tourists than they were subsisting on fish and reed roots. Also, I can't help thinking that an isolated population of only a few thousand must be a bit inbred, so mixing with the landlubbers can't be a bad thing either. Also, they have long stopped speaking Uros and now they all speak Aymara, but Spanish is beginning to creep in.

Nonetheless, there are still large numbers of people living on these bizarre man-made islands. They have floating schools, two floating hospitals, two floating churches, floating shops, and most other services you would expect in a small city. This is the real deal, unlike the Bolivian side. The guide had told us how these people look very different from people on the land, due to their genetic history, but I didn't really see it; they did have some different dress styles, but the only people we saw were on a couple of islands used exclusively, I suspect, for tourist visits, so even the difference in dress may just have been for our benefit. It would have been much more interesting to hire a boat and float among the real, working reed islands, but how were we to have known the tour would be so superficial? If only there had been a clue, like the word “tour”.

Unmarried girl

The first island we stopped at we were introduced to a few of the Uros, men in their shirts made of reed fibres, and women with different-sized pompoms in their hair: large for unmarried, small for married. The guide and an Uros helper built up a scale model of the island to demonstrate how it is constructed. It really is quite incredible: using specially designed (metal) tools, they cut a several metres thick layer of reed roots, which are very buoyant, to use as the foundation for the island. On top of this layer, which float below the surface of the water, they start layering and weaving the tops of reeds, until there is a three metre pile of these on top of the base. This is what we were standing on. Then, she explained, to prevent them from ending washing up on Copacabana beach, in Bolivia, they anchor the islands in several places using up to seven-metre-long reed stakes, one stake for each anchor point on the island and one into the lake bottom. Then they build their houses and so on made, also made of reeds.

Guide with Uro guy and scale model of island

Then they talked for a bit about the food they eat. They use the reeds for everything and sure enough this includes food. We were each handed a piece of reed shoot which we were told was an “Uros Banana”. It tasted OK, very fresh, but you would get bored of it very soon. Before the Spanish arrived, she told us, the delicious trout and king fish that the lake is now full of, were not here; the only fish were some really small unappetising fish, and one of the poor things was shown to us by an Uros lady. This was their staple until the bigger fish were added, and it was also the basis of their economy, because this isn't really enough to live on, and they have always traded extensively with their neighbours, particularly for things like alpaca wool and potatoes. The guide told us that until recently the Uros never used money, despite the Incas bringing it to the region, and barter was done on a basis of volume for volume: one armful of fish for an armful of potatoes. I'm sure the Spanish must have loved that system when it came to gold!

Solar panels

We were then invited to have a look around the island and try on their clothes in one of their houses. Joanne and I declined to try on the clothes, but we had a wander around. Beside one house a French couple, in the same subgroup I had been separated off into, had spotted solar panels, so they asked our subgroup Uros guide what it was for. Electricidad the woman replied, and the couple seemed satisfied with the answer, which I thought was nothing more than a statement of the obvious, so I continued and asked what they use the electricity for: television seemed to be the most important thing. At least they are not ashamed of, or hiding, the modernisation of their culture from the tourists, so maybe this will allow their way of life to continue for some time, but I'm still sure their days must be numbered. You may be able to get all the benefits of modern life on the islands, but it's just so much more convenient on the land.

Us in the reed boat

Next we were invited to take a trip to the next island in a “traditional” reed boat, which would cost us a further S10 each. Joanne was keen so we did it, but then noticed that none of the large group of Peruvians who had got on the boat paid anything. Joanne pointed this out to the couple sitting next to us and we all stared at the Peruvian end of the boat until, embarrassed, their apparent leader handed over S5, which I suppose was meant to cover the cost for all of them; there must have been about eight of them! Joanne was very unhappy with the unfairness of it and tourists being ripped off, but she really should have been used to it by then! We were treated to short songs in Uros, Aymara and Quechua as a farewell from the ladies of the island, then bizarrely they went through Spanish and English versions of things like Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. When we arrived at the next island and were invited to pay for various traditional foods, we boycotted!

Singing to us

Leaving first island and our boat behind

Approaching the second island

Joanne not impressed

Cooking

Bigger better reed boat

Outlying tourist islands

Then it was back on the main boat and we chugged slowly off towards the next part of the tour: Isla Taquile. What we hadn't realised when we booked was that this island is two-and-a-half hours away on a slow boat like ours. The guide told us all about the unique culture and history on the next island, but I just drifted off. I couldn't believe we had five hours more on this torturously slow boat. I can tell you that, unlike the rest of the area around the lake, it is and always was a Quechua speaking group of people on the island, and the economy of the island has always been organise on a completely communal basis: everyone earns the same amount of money, no matter what job they do, she told us. Everything is shared among every occupant of the island. And they've been doing this since long before Lenin or even Marx, and their society is still functioning fine about one thousand years later. She then went on to tell us in more detail, then about their clothes and other traditions, but this was when I drifted off. Joanne later told me that most of it was about the different headdress they wear: men wear floppy hats, one type for married and one for single; and women wear cloaks over their heads.

One married man, one single

Taquileñas

Alighting from the boat, I re-ripped my recently repaired trousers where they had been stitched back together. The clothing was moderately interesting, but not worth a five hour return journey to see. Likewise, the island itself wasn't particularly attractive, not a patch on Isla del Sol. I wondered why on earth the tour included it and now I had to walk around with my pants on display. It was a bit of a hike up to the top of the island, where the guide had told us to go and wait in the main plaza. There were some fairly old people in the group so we had to wait a while in what is undoubtedly the ugliest main square I have seen on this trip. Even Japan didn't have one this ugly, although they don't go in for plazas much. The buildings round the square are all made of reinforced concrete and have rusty corrugated iron roofs, just like the rest of the ugly little island. The only building that was a bit different was a super-modern mayor's house, but it wasn't very nice either. Then the guide revealed what must be the real reason for bringing us all this way: UNESCO had declared the island's weaving the best in Peru in 2005, and we were all invited to browse the goods. To my eye it was nice, but no different from weaving we had seen in Bolivia or in Puno, except that it was about ten times the price. Nobody bought any. Another example of bad business sense in South America. Maybe if they had dropped the price a bit, a few people would have bought some.

Ugly main square

Mayor's house

Most attractive part of the square

Expensive weaving

Then it was time for lunch. We were told we had to eat at one specific restaurant, for reasons that were unclear. We assumed that this was just another ploy to overcharge us, but in fact the prices were the same as tourist restaurants in Puno. It was trout, which we was very please about, and when the waiter came out to our table with one massive trout and two small ones, I thought oh goodie! a massive trout for me, especially once he had given Joanne a small one, because apart from us it was only some old ladies sitting at the table. But no! The idiot of a waiter gave me the other tiny one and proceeded to give an old lady the giant one! I couldn't believe it. What a fool! The next round of fish he brought out included one almost as large as the giant one and a couple of medium-sized ones a bit bigger than our minnows. I was furious. It reminded me of the wine-tastings in New Zealand, where we were given much smaller samples than the “respectable” people there, even though we spent as much money in the end. Do people just look at us and think we don't deserve good things – instead of the waiter thinking “he's a big lad, I'll give him the big fish”? Predictably the old ladies left about half of their fish; the giant one was probably only one third eaten. We were pissed off and just wanted to home. On another 150 minute boat ride.

Rusty-roofed houses

The Islas Flotantes were interesting, albeit totally touristy, but I deeply regretted having gone for the option including Isla Taquile, and was glad to be able to warn Lucy and Zdenek when we discovered they had now arrived at the hostel we were about to check out of. We went out for dinner with them before the owners veins exploded because we were spending time inside after checking out. Dinner was nice, but beautifully finished off with pisco sours. At least, we get to taste the real thing instead of the Chilean copies!

The only attractive thing on the island

written by

The Happy Couple on November 4, 2009 from Taquile, Peru

from the travel blog: Michael's Round-the-World honeymoon

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In the morning, my food-poisoning seemed much less severe, but I was starving, having not eaten much the day before. Unfortunately the place we went for breakfast gave us only five little hard bits of bread between us and a smidgen each of the disgusting red jam and industrial-tasting margarine (always called “butter”) that are so widespread in Bolivia. We bought a packed lunch each from the place we had eaten the night before, since the food had seemed OK, and got on the boat to Isla del Sol.

Pathetic packed lunch

Once we were chugging our way out to sea, very very slowly as it happened, we had a peek into our packed lunches to see what we had to supplement our meagre breakfast. It was terrible: the “fruit” we had been expecting was actually just a sugary fruity drink like a froot shoot and the rest of it hardly made up a meal substantial enough for what we ha paid. This was the last straw for me and South American food: it is awful; the only thing to recommend about it is the steak in Argentina, but then it's just meat meat meat, which gets rather tedious. Mostly the food is fried rubbish; I think the influence of their fastfood-loving neighbour to the North has destroyed any idea of a traditional cuisine. Or maybe the food has always been terrible.

Lazy captain

Pathetic engines

The boat took an incredible amount of time. Instead of having a decent-sized on-board engine and large propeller attached to the hull, they were powering this passenger boat, at least the size of a small fishing boat, with two outboard motors, presumably after realising that one wasn't going to do it.

Incan terracing

On the trail

Finally we got to the island, in Inca mythology as the birth place of the Sun and the Moon, it was an extremely important location to them. We paid for our ticket which, they told us, would cover entry to the museum, the ruins, and todo, then we set off on the path towards the ruins. On the way we passed Puma Rock, which in Quechua is titi kala, after which the lake is probably named. We passed a table, reportedly used for sacrifices. The island was very dry, though very pretty with the Incan terracing and surrounded by clear blue water.

Looking back at the port

"Sacrificial" table

Funny angled islet

When we first approached the ruins, it just looked like a few uninteresting stone houses and I felt the disappointment of Tilcara rising all over again, but when we got closer I realised that these houses were linked into other houses further down the slope, in an interconnecting network of tunnels and passageways. It must have been quite a busy little village at one time, but how absent privacy must have been, when every house is connected directly to several neighbours; in effect is was really just one big building with a large complex of rooms. Much more interesting than the Tilcara ruins an in much better condition, though these ruins are probably a few hundred years more recent.

Ruins

Joanne sitting in ruins

After the ruins we decided we would walk the seven kilometres to the South end of the Island rather than retuning to the port to get a lift there in the boat. The guide book said it was the only way to truly appreciate the island and we thought we needed a bit of exercise to get us in training for Machu Picchu, which was now only a few days away. It was hot and the altitude meant that we found it quite difficult (the summit of the island is over 4000 metres above sea level), so I took out the bag of coca leaves I had bought on the Salar de Uyuni trip and started chewing. Ever few hundred metres, a few people would be standing with a bundle of tickets, claiming that we needed to pay 5 Bolivianos to continue down the path; no we don't I explained, our ticket is for todo, but none of them cared, so we just told them that we didn't have any money and kept walking. I was fairly sure it was a scam, but I wasn't sure until we passed a South American guy who was waving away the ticket vendors and shouting something at them in a very irritated voice. Did you pay them? he asked and said he was very pleased when we told him no. We really didn't have enough money for all the tickets, since we were leaving Bolivia that day and had been running our funds down. We could have bought a few, but we needed money for a beer when we got to the end!

Modern stone work

The long path ahead

The interior of the island

Inca Steps from top

Joanne keeping the sun off

The island had been getting progressively more green as we headed South, until the end of the walk where it was very green and much less dry-looking than the North. There was much more development at this end of the island too, and the highlight seems to be Incan Steps up from the harbour to the plateau of the island. We rewarded ourselves with the beer we had been waiting for, and sat on the grass and chatted to an Irish couple from the same boat. They had paid every one of the rip-off 5Bs tickets, though now they said “I knew it! I knew it was a scam!”.

Inca Steps from bottom

Last chance to photo Bolivian ladies

Joanne cold

On the way back we had to endure the super-slow boat even longer than necessary because they stopped off at a “floating reed island”. We had heard about these islands on the Bolivian side, but hadn't realised our tour included it; the genuine reed islands are on the Peruvian side, and we knew that these ones were fake, recently constructed for tourists. They were charging 2Bs per person to get off the boat and wander around, but the only people who did were two Bolivian ladies. You can tell Bolivian ladies by the fact that they all wear unusual hats, like tall bowler hats. Nobody else seemed interested; presumably everyone else knew they weren't the real thing.

Silly floating "reed" islands

Bolivian ladies the only one to get off

Copacabana

Back in town, we had a few hours to wait for the bus and only enough money for one more beer. Everyone around us was ordering food and it looked like the food there was really good, especially the pizzas some people near us ordered. I called the waiter over and asked if they would take US Dollars, since we still had some left over, but he told us that they would accept Dollars, but only on bills over a certain amount that just two people could not easily have spent, and we certainly didn't want to. We were starving though, so not long before our bus was leaving, after we had paid our bill and not long after the people with the pizzas had left, we made a quick exit, passing the table where the girl had left half of her pizza untouched, and I lifted two of the large pieces off her plate. It was only one piece each, but we reckoned it would be enough to keep starvation at bay until we arrived in Puno anyway.

The border crossing into Peru, not long after leaving Copacabana, was nice and easy, but someone got on the bus at the border who had the smelliest feet I've encountered since India, and we had to move one row back to avoid vomiting. We would have moved further back, but the rest of the bus was full, because even where we were it was still slightly stomach-churning. I love bus travel.

written by

The Happy Couple on November 2, 2009 from Isla del Sol, Bolivia

from the travel blog: Michael's Round-the-World honeymoon

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Trips:

Shorthand link:

Buddy List

Alpaca: clothes and food

Cusco, Peru

Floating Islands and Reed Bananas

Taquile, Peru

Not Puno Day

Puno, Peru

Birth Place of the Sun and the Moon

Isla del Sol, Bolivia

South America plan - latest

Puno, Peru

Peru

Joanne

England

Scotland

Michael

Ecuador

Colombia

Panama

Costa Rica

Nicaragua

El Salvador

Guatemala

Belize

Mexico

USA (it's OK now 'cos of Obama)

Good Food in Bolivia!

Copacabana, Bolivia

Good Food in Bolivia!

Copacabana, Bolivia

More Bolivian Misery

La Paz, Bolivia

Road of Death

La Paz, Bolivia

Dried llama fœtus

La Paz, Bolivia

Heading South?