Around Lago Titicaca: Part Two

Bolivia and the Isla Del Sol
Early one Puno morning, I was shuttled by minibus out to the bus station where a retro old bus filled completely with foreigners set off for Copacabana and the Bolivian frontera. The journey was short and sweet, skirting around the edge of the Lake, the morning sun scattering blue sparkles across its suface. I met a Gothic Metal band from Mexico on this bus. Really nice people. They were en-route to La Paz for show two of their vast three-date South American tour, having just played the previous night in Lima. "Sleep, who needs sleep?" they joked. The sun was shining and people were smiling. Welcome to Bolivia, I thought. It felt like I was finally leaving behind the occaisonally ugly vibe of Peru and entering a better place. Consequently, I felt pretty damn good.


My first stop in Bolivia proper, and a place imbued with the magical creation myths of the Incas was the Isla Del Sol, or Island of the Sun. The Incas believe that the first Inca, Manco Kapac, emerged from the Island as well as the Sun god Inti. They also believe the Sun was reborn out of the waters of the Lake. Whatever the legends, I felt it to be a pretty powerful and stunningly beautiful place. The light was certainly fantastic here and my little replacement Lumix performed really well.

These days the main industry in tourism, however many of the 800 families or so that inhabit the island still practice fishing and farming as I would later observe on an off-path ramble.

To get there, you board a tiny little boat at the docks in Copacabana filled with bulging rucksacks and other backpackers. The boat made its way slowly across the Lake, reaching the tiny harbour of Yumani where you are met with the undeniably difficult task of hauling your increasingly weighty pack up the Escalera Del Inca, a stone stairway that goes pretty much straight up to the to of the hill. You are already at a rather high altitude as the lake itself sits at 3812m, and this was one tough walk, but I summoned up some strength and pushed onwards to my hostel reccomendation, Inti Kala, which just so happened to be on the other side of the hill! A nice and tranquil place, despite the slightly immature staff, it had gorgeous views acros the lake to Peru though and I sat down with a well deserved beer on their terrace to take it all in.




I spent three days here soaking in the beautiful landscapes and walking across the Island, on a clear day you could see the snow-capped mountains rising majestically in the distance. On one of the these walks I met a local lady herding her donkeys along the shores of a small inlet, she was really nice and thinking I was lost told me how to get back to the path (people generally don´t wander from the main North\South route across the ridge). Of course I just wandered where the wind took me, pausing to skip stones with three local kids who came past with their cow. They sang really distinctive songs at the top of their voices that could be heard from the top of the next valley, echoing across the scrub.





The Island is definitely immersed in the tourist trade and in the main settlement it seems every house operated as a restaurant or cafe. Yet, if you walk a little out of the way, up to the top of a hill decorated with effigies, you are rewarded with panormamic vistas all around. You feel like you are on top of the world. Or head down to a quiet bay to watch the famers going about their day and you won´t see other tourists. Its such a quiet, simple existence and the ambience was very calming and focusing. Just the place I needed to be after the ups and downs of Peru.






Next: Getting to La Paz, the highest capital city in the world and biking down the "Death Road".

Around Lago Titicaca: Part One

After the last bus ride in Bolivia turned out to be one of the most testing and shitty, I have finally made it over the southern Bolivian border to the "promised land" of Argentina. I felt sure there would be steak and champagne on plush buses, served by beautiful latin strippers, and all would be imbued with a warm and sunny glow, leaving the smelly, will-we-actually-get-there vibe of Bolvian transport far behind.

Puno and the Floating Islands of the Uros
So after the hard slog of the trek and plenty of "pinch-yourself-to-believe-it" moments at Macchu Piccu, I took a bus for a few hours south down to the town of Puno. It sits on the Peruvian side of Lake Titicaca and apart from a tiny little courtyard cafe that was playing some soothing One Giant Leap when I walked in and sold the best organic coffee I´d had in Peru (its rather difficult to find), isn´t really anything to write home about. This shop got me excited before I realised what it actually sold:


There is a little lagoon by the lake that has some rather weird looking pedalos with all sorts of different creatures tacked onto the front, and nearby is the most characterful peruvian museum ever based in th shell of a worn-out old bus.




I walked along the promenade and around the coast to where the SS Yavari is moored whilst ongoing repairs are performed. The Yavari holds th title of "the oldest ship on Lake Titicaca" and has a remarkable story attached to it. In 1861 the Peruvian government ordered two gunships from James Watt & Co in England. They were shipped in 2766 pieces over the seas to the port of Arica (now in Chile), then by train to Tacna and finally and most amazingly by men and mules over SIX YEARS to Puno! In-fcuking-credible! There they were reassembled and the Yavari was finally relaunched on Christmas Day, 1870.


You can visit the ship as the restoration work continues with th aim of turning into a fully working tourist boat in a year or two. There is even a letter from dear old Prince Phillip in the cabin saying what a good cause it is, though I bet he didn´t squeeze many shillings from the bulging royal coffers to help out. Its a great project and the story alone was worth the trip to see the boat.



In the afternoon I took a short trip out into the Lake to the famous Floating Islands of the Uros people, which unfortunately have become rather commercialized of late with the islanders setting up stalls and politely hassling visitors to buy souvenirs and take the "Uros Taxi" which is a ride in one of the traditional boats while the women sing and dance. I declined, to wander round and check out the actual islands themselves, and they were a bit perplexed. They had made a little model to demonstrate how the reed matter is processed to form the floating blocks and how they have to be anchored down. They told us that when a strong wind came a few weeks previous, one island was blown almost 2km out into the lake!




Its hard to know quite how much life has changed for them since the influx of so much tourism, however they continue to collect the reeds and create more islands (72 at the last count) and catch fish from the Lake and cook them in a traditional fashion between hot coals, although I spotted one hut actually had a nice solar panel attached - certainly not cheap!





Next in Part Two: I hopped around the coast to Bolivia, Copacabana to be precise, and took the boat over the mythical Isla Del Sol, where the Incas believed the sun was born and that their gods emerged out of the Lake. I may have got that the wrong way round but still, it was seriously beautiful!

Up in the mountains and down by the sea

This latest post comes to you full of the joys of the pure mountain air of the Cordillera Blanca, gets thrown into stark contrast by the brash metropolis that is Lima and spends a day or two navigating the the war-zone vibe of earthquake ravaged Pisco. Unfortunately, it is also tainted by the sadness of loss. I know, its a tad heavy for a blog post but there is a reason why there will be no pictures associated with the next couple of posts.

At a Nazca bus staion I popped my smaller backpack down on the floor for a few seconds, turned around and... GONE. Rather gutting to say the least, as I had been very vigilant about such things up till that point. One tiny slip up and some dodgy Peruvian was there to capitalise. Needless to say I was rather upset for a day or two, losing a couple of almost-full journals, my Ipod and a few books, not to mention my camera and a couple of weeks of photos. Ah well. One to learn from I guess and roll on the insurance claim.

Let that smidgen of darkness not cast a shadow across my experiences though, for my week spent at The Way Inn, a gorgeous farmhouse-style lodge nestled right up close to the grand Cordillera Blanca mountain range became one pof the best experiences of my trip. It is a shame I cannot share the imagery (and there were some really fantastic photos, you´ll just have to believe me) except for one single picture that escaped via facebook, but I am already of the mindset that I shall return there one day.


This was taken on a really quite exhausting hike up to Laguna Churup, a gorgeous azure lake right at the foot of a glacier. It sits at around 4500m above sea level, about then highest I´ve ever been on land and was a real sight to behold. The landscape around the lodge is all about gigantic rock faces that hover either side of winding rivers, strewn with boulders and grasses. Snow-caped peaks seem within touching distance and dotted across they valleys below, small families of Andean famers work the dry land for all they can get. It was bright and sunny every day, with views across the valley to the mountains beyond and down below Huaraz was just a small twinkling of light in the dark of night.

It was probably one of the most beautiful places I have ever had the pleasure to spend time in, made all the more special was some amazing, inspiring people, delicous home-cooked food and beds composed of orthapedic matresses with proper down duvets and pillows. Sounds luxurious, but believe me you need it, it gets REALLY cold at night. I left feeling better than I have ever felt, very at peace with the world. Leaving took me from one extreme to the other however, as I was to find out.

Lima is big, foggy and loud. I walked around Miraflores, undertook some essential purchases (hair and beard trim and a new thermos - pretty rock n roll) and found a well stocked high-end supermarket called Vivenda that rather resembled a Whole Foods or a Waitrose. Walking back I got talking too long to a dodgy guy who said his name was Ricky. Long story short, he was a shady con man who tried to extort me but I gave him five soles (about a pound) and he left. Weird. Still, not exactly nice. Decided to leave Lima straight away the next morning to meet my friend Adrian who I met up at Los Cedros down the coast in a small town called Pisco. The one good thing about Lima though, the beautiful tranquil hostel run by a young Peruvian girl named Melissa, One Hostel. It was a great refuge from the chaos outside and just being there reminded just why I never feel comforable in such big cities. Give me green rolling hills and the English channel any day!

Pisco, a few hours south of Lima by the coast is rather a sorry-looking place. Famous for the drink that bears its name, it was mostly destroyed by a powerful earthquake in 2007. It is slowly recovering (not helped by evidence of millions of dollars of goverment aid mysteriously dissapearing) and there are piles of rubble, bricks and the ruined shells of buildings everywhere. Not exactly a tourist destinaton, except for the Ballestas Islands that lie a few km to the south, famous for the vast numbers of birds and sea lions that live there and cover the place with their guano(read: shit). It´s so thick in places all the rocks look white and fishermen have traditinally gathered it up for fertilizer. I did a boat ride to the Islands, and the rocks were so thick with birds blackness almost covers the white. They take to the air in their hundreds and the noise and sight is impressive. Some big daddy sea lions were lazing on the rocks amidst the avian chaos, oblivious. Again, shame there are no pics, but dust off that imagination and try to see.

Next: sandboarding down the bizarrely massive dunes of Huacachina, a woozy afternoon flight in a five-man Cessna over the famous lines (and one shitty robbery) in Nazca, and mixing a big fiesta with visits to the police station, a fascinating monastery and the worlds deepest canyon in and around Arequipa. Rollercoaster ride or what.

Colonnial Chic and Valley Heaven

My last week or so in Ecuador, sob sob... It´s been a fantastic time in this little country and I´ve really grown to love it for all its quirky, ramshackle charm and gorgeous natural beauty. I spent a few very pleasant days in the refined city of Cuenca, taking in its relaxed pace of life and slightly more cosmopolitan inhabitants, before heading south the the muy tranquilo town of Vilcabamba which turned out to be just the haven I was looking for. A place I could live I reckon, as a few other gringos have discovered over the past twenty years or so. Thankfully, this hasn´t taken away too much of the slow-paced charm, as the town remains pretty small and the local influence strong.

Cuenca
I really liked Cuenca. It has a sense of pride and style that seems seperate from the rest of the country. There is lots of great colonial architecture and its very nice and clean.





The Mercado 9 De Octobre was spotless and the produce of better quality than than most places back home! The city is also perfectly safe to wander around during the day (and I never had any problems at night either) and that was rather refreshing. It has a massive cathedral in the centre of town, the Neuve Catedral, which was built in the 1800s and manages to be pretty damn grand inside as well as out:



Across the way there is the Viejo Catedral, yes, thats the ´Old Cathedral´, build originally in the 1500´s and a little run down but fascinating inside. Unfortunately you can´t take pics. As I emerged from the Nueve Cathedral though, there was some sort of protest march going on, led by a full-on military marching band and consisting almost entirely of older locals, many in traditional Andean dress carrying placards and waving flags. I was really happy to see them out on the streets, demonstrating and taking issue with events. It struck me you wouldn´t see the old out marching in England, it takes alot to get more than the die-hards out on the streets these days, myself included. Most of us are happily tucked up in our houses in front of the TV moaning, sure, but actually getting out there and making a point? Doubtful. And that I find to be a rather sad state of affairs. Makes you think.


Some of these people here must be pushing 80 too (though obviously its hard to tell) and their passion for their cause was palpable. My favourites however were the old timer musicians playing in the back of a Jeep following the whole march. Complete and utter dudes, the lot of them:


There is supposedly a church for every week of the year in Cuenca and I went to a couple of the best ones, outside the Asunscion there is a very colourful flower market:


I also found a really fantastic exhibition by the Ecuadorian painter Jorge Chalco at a little Museum by the river. I´d not heard about him before and his stuff really is great, wild and fantastical with a real sense of place, kind of like if Gabriel Garcia Marquez was a painter if you know what I mean:



The Museo de Art Moderne was also worth a look with a good selection of exhibits, covering all sorts of different media:



I also went to Ecuador´s only Inca ruins, Ingapirca, which is certainly no Machu Picchu but was still worth a look:



With a great place to stay (La Cigale on Honorato Vasquez for those that might be interested.. Andrea ;) and a couple of cheap and tasty veggie rstaurants (coconut milkshakes made with soya milk, coconut bits and served WELL cold = blissssssss) I was set up perfectly for my last few days in the country, hiding away from it all amidst the drop-dead gorgeous scenery of Vilcabamba.



Vilcabamba
What can I say about this little place that would do it justice? I guess it just has to be experienced. Its probably one of my favourite spots I´ve been to on the trip so far, amazingly tranquil but with just enough going on to keep things interesting. From friendly locals and mind-blowing views to yes, another fantastic and cheap vegetarian restaurant, it was the perfect end to Ecuador. I even got a full body massage for the equivalent of a tenner that had me floating around for an afternoon feeling like a little fluffy cloud. And no, San Pedro was not involved. At least not that day.

A quick mention for what must be one of the most most bizarre rave scenes ever. Pretty much the whole town had gathered in front of the main church which had two sets of large speakers either side blasting, and I mean BLASTING, out a really really bad blend of reggaeton of hard house. Yep, that bad. Everyone just sat around the place silent and motionless, all apart from one little girl who took it upon herself to dance in the middle. It was really weird.


As if I don´t post enough, here´s a load more lovely photos to end on, including some hot Ladybird sex, some seriously good views and a sunset so beautiful... well: