December 28th, 2005

We heard from other travelers that it might be possible to actually spend a night on the islands staying with a local family; yet, the book warned us that this experience might be very touristy and quite cheesy. However, nothing prepared us to how kitschy and prearranged this excursion was.

At 8am we were piled up into a boat along with 22 other travelers and taken to the island of Amantani where we would spend the night with a local family. Our bilingual guide seemed to have just that — two tongues. You wouldn’t really hear where the Spanish ended and English began. It was clear he had a rehearsed monologue into which he would occasionally throw in an “excuse me” when people got bored and would talk over him. The ride to the Amantani took us about three hours, so we had plenty of time to fraternize with other travelers. I am always interested to see who the people that travel are. There was a Canadian couple, David and Sarah, who teach English in Mexico and travel whenever they have a chance; a German guy, Jurgen, who has been traveling solo for the past nine months; and my favorite pair—a New Zealand mother and daughter team whose names escape me now. I wish my kids would consider me cool enough to travel the world with.

When we got to Amantani, we were taken straight to our host families to have lunch. We all were curious what sort of food each of us would get, but it turned out we all got the exactly the same menu – vegetable soup, rice, potatoes, and some fried cheese that made loud squeaky noises when you chew it. The kitchen was quite authentic, but our accommodations surprised us; it turned out we were staying in what looked like a very nice B&B with several big rooms to accommodate more travelers during the high season, I guess. After lunch, we hiked up to Pacha Papa (Father Earth) temple, where our guide continued his never-ending bilingual monolog. We gave up on listening, but did hear that we may not enter the temple itself as its sacred ground is off limits to everyone but shamans, but if we walk around it three times, we may make a wish. Thrilling.

After dinner the guide had a “surprise” for us. Apparently, that evening, we were to dress up in typical local outfits and come to the main hall of the village for a grand fiesta where there will be drinking (for a fee) and dancing. Can’t say we were all very excited about the fiesta. It was clear as day that this sort of “celebration” was held pretty much every night tourists were on the island. Nevertheless, we dressed up and went through the dark village streets to the main hall. The boys had it easy; they only had to wear a big poncho and a silly hat. The girls, on the other hand, had to gear up with a long white shirt, about three skirts for volume, and a very wide and thick belt that went around the waist several times. To say the least, I didn’t feel very attractive or festive it this whole getup and to make things even more interesting, I was to wear a shawl on my head that kept sliding down like it was running from something. When we reached the main hall, I saw everybody else had the same problem. The girls tried to joke about their awkward appearance, and the guys were eyeing the drink stand wondering how much they will need to drink to feel comfortable in their own outfits. When all twenty four of us arrived, the fiesta began. Our guide didn’t even bother to show up, but each person or couple came with a representative of the family they were staying with. At first, we all were shy; but the locals, who have done these parties more times then I would like to know, quickly grabbed us by the hand and taught us the very simple dance steps: walk to the music three steps forward and then three steps back while turning torso from side to side. The music ended up being not free as well. Every few songs the youngest member of a very bored looking band would stroll through the crowd for a small donation to the musicians. Fortunately, in a few hours it all was over and we all went back to our warm beds.

We were sort of hoping the cheesy touristy part of our island visit was over, but in fact it has just begun. In the morning, we were piled up in to the boat once again and were taken to the island of Taquile, where, we were told, the best weavers around do their work. We took a short hike from one side of the island to the other during which the guide kept telling us that we are going to see the workshops of the handicapped people who are very shy and so have tags with prices on their merchandise and do not bargain. According to the guide, the people on the island also had some sort of hat system to mark/identify the single, looking, and married men in the community. Married men’s hats were all covered in a red pattern, while the single men had the top of their hats white. There was also a difference in the position the hats were in. A position for a single man who is not ready for a girlfriend, a position for one who is looking, and even a position for a man who has a girlfriend but is not against looking for a replacement. I bet that gets complicated sometimes… It also turned out that the multicolored rainbow hats represented the position of authority such as a policeman or a village elder .Finally, we got to the village where the great handicapped weavers were supposed to be. We drifted in a steady pace from workshop to workshop, but no matter how hard we looked there were no such people in sight. It’s not like we craved to witness some misfortune, we were just interested to observe their exceptional work. Finally, we asked around and the mystery was solved. Our guide with his exceptional English kept mispronouncing “handicraft”, and so many others like us were convinced we were going to see the “handicapped”.

Finally, after Taquile, we visited the floating islands of the Uros tribe. This was supposed to be the highlight of our Titicaca trip. It is quite amazing when you think of it. Floating islands made entirely out of reed with people living right on them for ages. Alas, the trip to the floating islands turned out to be nothing, but a shopping expedition. We were dropped off on a 200 square feet area that was half covered by about five stands with locals who were once again selling everything from tapestries to straw boats and dolls. It took us about two seconds to cover the area we were allowed to explore, when we were called back into the boat. This was a disappointing and a bit frustrating experience, but for me there was one thing that I would go back to the floating islands for in a second. The tapestries made by the Uros people, or at least the once we saw sold by them, were of such exceptional design, that I am now biting my elbows for not buying one. Upon our return to mainland we spent countless hours trying to find something something as good, but failed miserably. The quality of work and design details didn’t even come close.

Tags: market
Posted in Places»South America»Peru | No Comments »

Comments

Comments are closed.