Islas Urcos

The floating Islands of Lake Titicaca. 75 floating islands made of totora reeds floating in the worlds highest lake where hundreds of people live and have been living for thousands of years. How could a tourist not want to see such a thing? 

I now know the answer to that question.

Everything about our tour made me feel uncomfortable. 

For starters, it was all very artificial. Our boat pulled up to the first floating island and handed some money out the window to the islanders as they all simultaneously greeted us in their native tongue. We disembarked on the island of reeds and sat in a circle as we were taught how the islands were made. Undeniably, this was very fascinating but our guide was just barking commands at the islanders and making them speak their native tongue though they were very obviously fluent in Spanish.

The next thing that bothered me was the societal structure that I curiously inquired about. I was talking with the 20 year old president of the small community, Johnathan. He informed us that they usually get married around 14 or 15 years old and those who do not have enough money to go to school stay on the island. I asked his wife who was sitting in the doorstep how old she was and she shyly looked away as her husband spoke for her. She was 18. I asked if he likes tourism and if he thinks it has a positive impact on the island and his response was as if he were programmed to say yes. Of course, without tourism these islands would have no source of income. 

We then were supposed to walk into their houses (also made of totora reeds) and try on their clothes. This felt extremely uncomfortable because it seemed invasive. It all seemed artificial as well because when my friend asked what they do when it rains, they informed us that they just drape some plastic over their roof.

Later, we were asked if we wanted to take the "traditional reed boat" (the pontoons were stuffed with tarps and plastic bottles) to another island. Little did we know, we had to pay and board the boat even if we didn't want to. As we were being towed across the water, the little children all sang songs to us. Our guide, once again, was treating them as though they were monkeys. Raising his arms in the air, conducting them. "Look!" He said, "They can sing in English too! Ladies! Sing! Louder!" 

I had had enough at this point but when the kids finished singing they swarmed us and asked for coins, fighting over each other. In one minute, the cute little children had completely changed and it was terrifying to see such greed in such little beings. To look into the small girl's eyes was heart breaking. The innocence in her pupils stared at my sad eyes; I was completely aware of this little girl's future.

The whole tour was disturbing and I'm still not exactly sure how to feel about it all. On one hand, everything I saw- the exploitative nature of the tour guides and companies, the poverty, the insincere "act", the apparent patriarchy- it all contradicted my personal beliefs and opinions. On the other hand, I feel confused because I am in no position to judge a culture. Who am I to say what is right and what is wrong? 

(This is a photo of a photo but I think it captures the mood well)

Just Laugh

When everything that could possibly go wrong does, it seems that our most natural reaction is to simply laugh in disbelief.

Last night we left on the night bus from Cusco to Puno, Peru. This afternoon we visited the floating islands of Titicaca. An incredibly strange and uncomfortable tour of the two islands was enough of Puno so we got back on the bus and headed to Bolivia. The landscape was absolutely beautiful as we drove past the coast of Lake Titicaca and hundreds of small farms. 

I began to get a bit nervous as we neared the border because I had read about how difficult it is for US citizens to enter. I read and re-read the visa requirements a dozen times and continually counted the documents in my travel wallet. Once we got to the border our worries were confirmed and the four American people from the bus quickly bonded as we scrambled to obtain missing documents. On an old computer in the back of the immigration office, we tried to log into our gmail accounts to print itineraries and plane tickets. We went back and forth between the immigration office, searching for a new document each time. The guys in the office were no help at all when it came to questions and apparently the other 25 people on our bus were not happy with waiting. Our final list of requirements to enter the country from Peru ended up being this:

-passport

-copy of passport 

-official health immunization record of yellow fever

-$160 USD (without rips tears of folds)

-hotel or hostel reservation

-airplane or bus ticket leaving the country

-5x5 passport photo with red background

-Peru immigration form

-bank statement or credit card 

-emergency contact info

-written itinerary of your trip

-visa application form (which you are supposed to print out on your own)

Soooo... Long story short it is hard for us to get into Bolivia. My friend from the Netherlands simply handed her passport and immigration form over to get a stamp and she was done. Putting this into perspective though, the US makes it so incredibly hard for so many citizens of third world countries to enter. I have met so many people that have been waiting months and even years to get a visa. They have spent hours trying to apply and hundreds of dollars with each application. I may be complaining of my simple troubles with entering Bolivia but in reality, it was doable and I was granted access at the end of the day.

Back to the story though, while we were rushing to print and copy and find these things, our bus decided it would leave and not only that, but it would leave without telling us or giving us our backpacks. Once we realized it was actually pulling away we ran for a bit until it was pointless and tuned back to look at each other. Now what? we all thought simultaneously. 

Eventually we were all approved and found a taxi to take us the rest of the way to town. Somewhere down the road I remembered reading something in my Lonely Planet book about making sure you get the necessary stamps and that you get all your documents back. I suddenly realized that I was missing my yellow health records paper so we turned the confused taxi driver around and went back to the immigration office once more. As we rode in the taxi towards town, we hypothesized about all the things and scenarios that must have happened to our packs. Well, there's no tags on our bags so anyone can grab them from the bus, or, no one knows that they are ours so they are going to stay on board until La Paz... We worried about all the things we probably lost and managed to laugh in between because we didn't really know what else to do. 

Once we got to town we found a driver of a different bus who directed us to a bus station and then directed us to a hotel where our bags supposedly were. How relieved we were to see our correct backpacks sitting behind the counter at this foreign hotel on the beach of Lake Titicaca. It had been a crazy long day and relief had finally reached us. 

Next, came the confusion with our hostel reservation and paying way more than we should have and walking up way too many stairs with our big packs. We threw our things into our beds and were so excited to take a hot shower in our nice, big, private, overpriced, room with a view. Once we read the sign about the water shortage and lack of hot water we shared a quick laugh then decided to go out to dinner. 

Upon looking through my wallet I realized that amidst the confusion and stresss of applying for my visa, I had never received my credit card back. Even when I returned to the office for my immunization card and asked several times if there was anything else that belonged to me, the man behind the desk looked me straight in the eyes and said no. I felt disheartened to have been deceived and though this was not the first thing I've had stolen, it was one of the more important. 

Thanks to last minute phone calls with my dad and the credit card agency, all has been taken care of. 

Our day was rounded off with some cheap and disgusting pizza and many many laughs as we sarcastically joked about how "great" and how "perfect" everything went today.

Traveling just wouldn't be the same if it were all so easy and effortless. All in all, it's hard not to smile because we are in an absolutely beautiful place. We're 12,600 feet up on the bank on Lake Titicaca in Copacabana, Bolivia and things just couldn't get any better.

...or worse :)

Navidad Abroad

Last week we celebrated Christmas in our school. It is always strange to celebrate holidays like this in places without snow and or pine trees however, the sparkly plastic singing tree that we set up in the school was pretty special to say the least. We decorated it´s synthetic branches with llama ornaments and flashing lights.
Each spanish class prepared a different dish and at the end of the night we had a multi-cultural feast, making a toast with a glass of pisco sour or chicha morada, classic peruvian drinks.
Being my first Christmas away from home, it made me feel a bit nostalgic but I was very grateful to have some celebration and to be surrounded by so many new friends from all over the world. 

El Camino a Urquillos

My friend Lotte and I woke up early this morning to go on a proper adventure for our day off of school. 

We ate breakfast and set out in city, looking for a street called Pavitos. Once we found the street, we also found the cars and buses and vans that take people anywhere and everywhere in the surrounding area. We asked our driver to take us to Chincheros, and once he dropped us off on the side of the road in this foreign village, all we knew was that we needed to somehow find el camino a Urquillos (the trail to Urquillos) a town which, surprisingly, we also knew nothing about. We stopped every few minutes to ask various shopkeepers and pedestrians the way and eventually we found the grassy green trail, el camino a Urquillos.

The trail starts at the base of the plaza of Incan ruins in the city of Chincheros. From there, it winds through farms, forests, mountain passes, herding pastures and villages.

The trail was grassy at first. The entire hillside above was carved out by terraces  of stone; once farming land for the Incans. We climbed up a big rock and admired all the perfectly cut squares missing from the Boulder. Sitting in what looked to be a chair, we pondered if this is a place where they used to make sacrifices to Pacha Mama, Mother Nature. 

We continued down the trail and passed a few people working on their farm, and a few women carefully watching over their goats, pigs, and donkeys as they grazed on the vibrant vegetation.

For a while we saw no one and appreciated the beautiful silence and occasional bird song. It was a stark contrast to the constant city buzz and bumble.

We continued descending the mountain, sometimes walking down stone steps, until we eventually rounded a corner and our eyes immediately met the jagged, snowy-covered peaks across the valley. It was stunning.

At the base of the mountains we spotted a town, quite possibly the one we were going to.

As we finished our descent of the steep mountain, we arrived at the valley floor and met the river below. There, we made a picnic in the grass, where we ate our avocados, bananas and peanut butter. We walked through dozens of small little farms, constantly guessing which type of vegetable was growing. Once, we came to an intersection so we asked a family traveling with their child and donkey the correct way. They kindly pointed down the valley, "el Camino a Urquillos" they said "está por alla."

We continued to follow the river. We walked through a beautiful Eucalyptus forest. With each inhalation, our nostrils were filled with a wonderful aroma and our air-deprived lungs thanked us. 

Eventually we started to enter a village of mud and straw brick houses perched on the side of a mountain. There was a stone canal in the middle of the trail that directed the water to the various 

farms. We walked further until we were around people again and Lotte and I took turns saying "hola" and "buenas Dias" to everyone we passed. We walked through the town, on the dirt road and eventually across a bridge to another town named Huayllabamba. There, we miraculously found a bus back to Quito and gave each other a high-5 to celebrate our victory in navigation. 

Watching out of the bus window, we passed dozens of small farms and villages in the Sacred Valley. There are reasons it is called the Sacred Valley and those reasons become immediately understood upon visiting. 

It was a wonderful adventure in nature. It was as if today, we went back in time.

A Day In The Life

I wake up and take as deep of a breath as my lungs will allow me at this altitude. The air is chilled but refreshing, this mountain air reminds me of home. I finally untuck myself from the heavy stack of alpaca blankets that are piled on top of me. I walk down the open hallway to the kitchen and eat some fruit and a piece of fresh baked bread. After chatting with some of my friends who go to school here, I make some tea, grab my notebook and pen, and seat myself in the small classroom filled with natural light from the ceiling window above. For the next several hours, we have discussions with our teachers and learn about the future perfect tense in Spanish. To keep the lessons interesting, every once in a while our teacher will do a magic trick with his cards or show us a funny video in Spanish. We take a break half way through to drink some mate de coca, a traditional tea made with coca leaves that gives you energy and helps with adjusting to the altitude.

After class is done we disperse to various places until lunch. We eat warm soup, vegetables, pastas, or meats, finishing our meal with more hot tea.

At this point, it is pouring rain outside and beginning to hail. I watch as the rain falls from the different levels of the roof, eventually tumbling off the edge. 

Once the rain has subsided, some friends and I walk down to the plaza and stop at the various shops looking at the beautiful crafts. We stop at a coffee shop then walk up the steep sidewalk to the San Blas district of the city. 

We walk home on the narrow cobblestone streets. Glancing across the way, the women dressed in bright, tradition clothing ask if we want a picture with them and their llama or their baby goat.

For dinner I go out with a different group of friends and a teacher from the school. We walk to a fancy restaurant and stare with wide eyes as they bring out our beautiful plates of Peruvian cusine. We sit and talk about the country with our teacher, practicing our Spanish as we go. 

Later we walk around the Plaza. It's getting late but the park is bustling with life. The lights of the houses stacked in the surrounding hills morph into a painting of blurred, colorful dots.

We walk to a bar and try pisco sours as a band begins to play. It's a famous group from the area and their music is so lively it's impossible not to move your body. The lead singer has long black hair and a big tattoo on his forehead. 

Eventually we wander to a different club and continue dancing until about three in the morning, at which point we decide we should get some rest so we're not too tired for classes later that day. We walk home under the street lights and ring the bell of our school. Raul let's us in and we make our way back to our room. Pulling the heavy alpaca blankets back over my head, I fall into a deep and wonderful sleep. 

Content in Cusco

From the moment I saw the Andes out of the airplane window, I knew this is exactly the place I wanted to be. For some reason, I have always wanted to go to Peru. It was the country I wanted to see the most when I started to plan my gap year so as I watched the huge snowy mountains out of my window, I was struck with disbelief that I was actually here. I felt nostalgic because the mountains reminded me of home but simultaneously I was overwhelmingly happy and excited. I couldn't stop smiling.

It was a wonderful feeling; the feeing that this is exactly where I want to be right now, this is exactly what I want to be doing. It is one of the best feelings and it has been happening more and more frequently lately. 

My eyes were fixed on the landscape the entire plane ride. We landed in Cusco and the energy of the city just got better and better. Granted I haven't spent much time here yet, I know it's a special place and I am very excited to explore the city throughout the coming weeks.