Lago Titicaca

January 19th, 2009 by Leilah Feinstein

Friday night I left for Puno with Joe and Rebecca, some of my housemates. After an 8 hour bus ride (bus sans-baño), we arrived at the break of dawn to see the beautiful Lake Titicaca shining out of a mountain framework. It would have been so incredible had I not been literally about to pee my pants.

After a breakfast of salt with eggs, we set off at 8 a.m. on a boat ride to the Floating Islands of Uros. They were really amazing; tiny islands made of reeds, about 35 people live on each one. We took a handmade boat from the first island to the second. Saturday afternoon we arrived to the bigger island of Amantaní, where we bunked in the house of a local family. We hiked up to the top of Papachata, where we watched a beautiful sunset and chilled.

That night I plunged out to a “fiesta” in a violent rainstorm with the family’s youngest daughter, Yolanda. She dressed me up all in traditional Quechua clothing, which the people of Uros wear every day year round. It was wonderfully comfortable and very warm. And beautiful! I got to the “fiesta” which turned out to be a hall full of drunk Australians. I did dance with the locals, though; we spun in huge circles really fast and forcefully. It was totally fun, but at that altitude, and having been up for about 24 hours, I was done. I went to my host house and knocked out to the sound of an angry donkey serenading me from outside.

Sunday morning we got up and headed toward the island of Taquile. We hiked to the Plaza and ate lunch. Afterwards, me and a few friends jumped into Lake Titicaca! You should all be proud of me, knowing my extreme fear of deep water and fish. I just felt it was too ridiculous not to go in. I mean, how often do you swim in Lake Titicaca?? Never, because it’s the coldest water I’ve ever felt; my body immediately started to shut down and I nearly went under on the way back to shore. I have never felt cold like that. Another 30 seconds and I would have been bubbles.

On the bus home from Puno, at about 1a.m., we stopped and cops came on to search for something. After about 25 minutes roaming the isles and looking into the overhead compartments, these dudes got out a ladder and climbed up onto the roof. What are the odds that my window was the one by which they proceeded to pass down BAGS OF LIVE CHICKENS? I kid you not, some insanely smart people decided to stuff about 200 chickens into about 20 bags and tie them to the roof of a speeding bus through the freezing mountain air. There was a lot of “Buh-GAWK!” happening outside my window, as we watched a whole family slam their bags of chickens into wheel barrows and roll them off into the night. It was somewhere between PITA’s worst nightmare and the funniest (apparently this website edits my right to freedom of speech) I have ever seen in my life.

I wish I could show you all the pictures from my trip, but at the last stop, the taxi ride home, I managed to somehow forget my backpack, in which sat my brand-new Cannon Powershot. Yay.