I actually slept the whole way to Puno, awaking only as we were coming down into the city limits
Puno is a relatively small seaside town, which many tourists use as a jumping off point for trips to the islands made of reeds in the lake that many of the natives live on. Unfortunately this has become a very touristy activity and the islands seem to wait until tourists boats come near, and all the people assume their positions and pretend to live the life of a good native, creating bowls and boats of reeds. I chose to skip this event and opt for a trip down the peninsula that juts out into the lake.
Here is a link to some of the pictures you would likely see from most tourists visiting Puno
Here is a map of where I headed
The peninsula is just north of Puno in the lower Left corner of the lake, starting at the town of Capachica.
When I got off the bus I got in some sort of rickshaw that took me to a van that was scheduled to leave for Capachica in 30 minutes. I sat by the van for about an hour, waiting for more passengers to arrive as they did not follow a time clock, but rather a full bus clock. I talked with a young man who was an architect who was married to a doctor and spoke limited English. I was surprised how lower-middle class he appeared vs what his family’s careers would provide him in the States.
I passed out some bracelets to the kids and soon the bus driver decided to take us on our way. The bracelets along with my agreeing to buy up some of the empty seats seemed to get the wheels turning.
It took us about an hour and a few vans to get to our destination.
Gorge, the architect, was heading to a meeting in the small village to discuss building a community center. We spent the time discussing the politics of various countries of the Americas. After getting sheep and donkeys to vacate the dirt roads we arrived, only for Gorge to find that that the meeting had been moved back to Puno. He was surprisingly much calmer than I would have been. We parted and I found a hike out to the tip of the peninsula.
I sat at the edge of the water for a bit but had to keep moving if I was to make the only bus back to Puno, which easily could leave early. I came upon a woman and her sheep. I took some pictures as they were coming up the road. She approached me, staring and throwing a couple dirty words I remember from highschool Spanish and moved on. The people in Peru were much less friendly then other parts of Latin America. Either they had yet to appreciate the change that tourism can bring to a country or they did not care. Not to say that I blame them. They would just blankly stare at you, as if saying, “Take your picture gringo, and move on”
I caught the last bus and it became a sort of clown car. With every mile that passed we would stop along the road to pick up a weary traveler. I would look out the window and mutter, “That sucks, we have no more room for them”. Then the door would open and they would jam in. By the time I made it back to Puno, we had 21 people in a 12 person van, including the 3 people holding onto the roof (this was not a roof built for luggage or passengers, it resembled your everyday SUV, with 1 aesthetic luggage rack running down each side). Ralph Nader would have had a field day with this one.
Back in Puno I walked the streets with 5 hours to kill before another night bus to Cusco; the capital of the Inca civilization and gateway to MP. I headed to the beach, but stopped at a market to find a local toilet. I walked into this bano with my hand over my nose as it consisted of just a row of holes in the ground with feet marks for where you were to squat. I popped some immodium and decided to lock my intestines up for the foreseeable future.
I stopped at a tavern and had a great meal and a few glasses of wine. I asked the waiter where the bathroom was so that I could wash my wands. After I got back to the table I realized I was getting cocky. When in the US would I ask for a bathroom and go on to tell them I needed to wash my hands? I was beginning to lengthen my requests to incorporate more Spanish words. I thought back to earlier in the day when I asked a vendor for some bread that I could eat and satisfy my hunger. Who does that? I had become a Spanglish snob.
I returned to the bus station and boarded the bus along with a throng of tourists with all their fresh North Face gear and hired guides. I knew my trip was about to get really annoying.
Until Tomorrow
Darren
