The boat ride out to our first destination, Taquile Island, took around about 3 hours and we spent most of it enjoying the rather fresh breeze over the lake, and taking in some sunshine. Our guide for our trip was a man by the name of Juber, although we nicknamed him "Papa Surf" cause he had a hat like Papa Surf wore in the cartoon. I didn't get any pictures unfortunately. The island itself is rather small but it was nice to see the local village, sample some cuisine, and check out the views from the top of the island. One of the funniest things here was these little girls that looked like nuns, as they have these long black head shawls, with tassles at the end. We called them "Evil Nuns" cause they would just swarm you and try to sell you local crafts and textiles. I am not a craft fan at the best of times, so I was a little short with them and made a dash into the cute little local church for sanctuary. Some locals were replacing statues of the Holy Family that they had taken out for recent Easter parades, as is the custom all over Latin America.
After spending a few hours walking around the island, we hopped back onto our boat for the 1 hour journey to Amantani Island and our overnight homestay. There was just a hint of anxiety amongst the group as to what we would experience and the conditions we might have to endure. We were all split up into groups of two for and were randomly "assigned" to a local family to stay with. Prior to our departure from Puno we had a big shopping expedition where we bought items for the family we were to stay with. Mostly it was things that were difficult to get on the island, like pasta, rice, and fresh fruit and veges. Good healthy stuff too. As was the tradition, Simon and I once again were roommates! We went to stay with a girl called Nancy and her family. I couldn't quite work out the definite relationships of the people that were living in the house we stayed at, but I think there were Nancy, her three sisters, Nancy's nephew and niece, Nancy's mother, and her grandfather. Because there are not many economic activities on the island, most of the men go to Puno or further afield to work. Others leave for more selfish reasons, ie getting a girl pregnant and then skipping off. As a result there was a distinct lack of working age men on the island. Chaco, Nancy's nephew, was this cool little four year old kid. We started to play soccer with him, but the game quickly turned to volleyball as he seemed to prefer this. The people on the island speak some Spanish, but mostly they speak Quechua, so the conversations were a little limited.
The island had electricity and running water, although the home we stayed in didn't have the power hooked up. The house was quaint and traditional. It was multi storey, but with various external doors so that the set up wasn't a normal flow through style we are used to. The house was built on three sides of a small court yard, the "kitchen/dining room" being on the opposite side of our room. I think Simon and I had Nancy's room, cause there were pictures of her on the wall. We felt bad for kicking her out! Almost forgot, the toilet was separate from the house also, and long drop styles, so it was back to basics!
We were all supposed to go for a walk up a nearby hill at the back of the village to see some ruins, but a soccer match against the locals put an end to that idea. The centre of the village has a large concrete area, roughly the size of a basketball court. It is surrounded on one long side by a terraced wall and on the opposite side by a long town hall. One end of the concrete area is bordered by small stores with homes on the top, the other end was open with a bank dropping away. It was in this concreted area that the battle commenced. As you can imagine, there was plenty of fetching of the ball from the end that wasn't closed in. The first game pitted Sam, Mitsi, Kike, Simon, two Canadian ring-ins, and I against some of the locals. We ended up winning 4-2 which was great, although we lost the next game by the same margin. Man those kids have some skils! The altitude was definitely a big factor as I was breathing like a fat man at times. A few other gringo sides challenged the locals but they were all soundly beaten. There must have been about 100 tourits that had descended on the village for the evening. The final game I was back on the pitch. Our random collection of nationalities played well in the very fading light. I had the dubious honour of being the goalie while it was almost pitch black. Needless to say, with my pitch black goalie skills, we lost on golden goal to a ball I had NO idea where it was coming from. It was all heaps of fun though, and a definitely random highlight of the whole trip.
The match had given us a big appetite so we all headed back to our respective "homes" for dinner. Simon and I had a "romantic" candlelight dinner in the small kitchen that consisted of a maize soup, and some vege-type main that I really can't describe. It was all really tasted though and we got waited on hands and feets. I felt a little embarrassed, but I guess they wanted to treat us as welcomed guests. After we were fed and watered, the family dressed us in local garb, complete with the standard beanies and ponchos, and then it was off for beers and a boogie in the village hall with the locals and bucketloads of gringos.
We had so much fun dancing around and drinking some Cusquenas (local beer). The local boys we had played against in the soccer match, had a band and were playing some traditional music that everyone danced to. I managed to get quite warm with the heavy wool poncho, and the hat, so it was a good excuse to have more than one or two beverages. Most of the other gringos stayed for a token dance and drink, but our group were there right to the end, with Simon and I the last ones, cause we were still drinking, at about 10pm. Sounds early I know, but when most houses don't have power/lights it's late. I guesss in NZ we are used to waking and sleeping when we want cause we have electricity, but in places like this the rise and fall of the sun dictates the pattern of life.
That night I had a great sleep, but was still a wee bit tired the next morning. Overnight I had to make a torch-lit trip to the outhouse after filling up on Cusquenas! We had a delicious breakfast of pancakes with Fanny jam (sounds gross, but it's the brand name!) and a few cups of coffee to wash it down. After saying our goodbyes and thanks to Nancy and her family, we got back on our boat to continue our visit around the Lake. Next stop was with at the famous Uros Islands, which are these amazing floating totora reed islands. Way back when, the local population was sick and tired of getting caught up amongst warring neighbours that they permamently upped sticks so to speak, and moved out on to the lake. Isla Tupiri was the particular island we stopped off at. It was funny walking on the reeds, that had some give but we all in all quite sturdy and well put together. The process works by just piling reeds upon reeds on top of each other. Every few years they put new reeds on top to further solidify the pile. Juber gave us a talk on how important the torota reeds were in Uros life, from the "ground" they walk on, to housing, to clothing, and even to food. I tasted one of the reeds and they weren't too bad. A bit like a tastier and sturdier celery! Merryn even got to try on some local garb, luckily I wasn't forced to. I found it hilarious though that the people lived in these reed huts, but had a solar panel that was hooked up to many appliances, including a stereo! Our brief visit was then topped off with a short reed canoe ride out on the lake. The catamaran type structure worried me a little, but it floated fine and got us back to "land" safely. Perhaps it was the Kermit the Frog looking figureheads!
After some initial apprehension from the group, we all ageed that the trip out to the islands, and particularly the homestay, was a lot of fun. Everyone enjoyed themselves, and I am sure we will take a lot out of the experience. I know I will. For a people who don't have much, the Amantanis really give a lot, and it was the least I could do to give them some money for my hat (as you can see in the photo with Nancy and in the other snaps). The whole experience, as with many similar experiences throughout the whole of South America, has made me conscious of how lucky I am to have the things I have.
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