Bus, Lake, Bus, City, Bus, Canyon, Bus, City, Bus - Arequipa, Peru
Arequipa, Peru
Firstly, I think I can honestly say that this past week we have become experts at enduring a variety of difficult bus rides, for one reason or another. We started our epic Peruvian bus trip (with a few stops between for a little sightseeing!) on Sunday 16th. We’d luckily secured the front seats of the double-decker bus (though a cheap one this time, it was unfortunately minus air-conditioning) so we had a panoramic view of the landscape between Cusco and Puno. At Juliaca, an ugly transport town between the two more popular destinations, the streets were full of motorised rickshaws – we felt like we were back in Thailand! Six hours and a little scary driving after leaving, we arrived in Puno and were picked up from the bus station by our cheerful hostel owner, Freda. Puno, at an elevation of 3,800 meters, gets extremely cold at night, so we were glad to be welcomed into the hostel with a cup of hot coca tea. A group of Australians were already there, huddled in hats and sleeping bags to watch a DVD in the cosy common room.
The only reason we (and probably everyone else) visits Puno is to see Lake Titicaca, one of the highest navigable lakes in the world and the largest lake (by volume) in South America. The lake contains the incredibly touristy, but still fascinating “Uros Islands”, inhabited by the pre-Incan Uros people. The islands they are entirely manmade from layer upon layer of anchored reeds. The buildings, boats, seats and beds are all also made from the totora reeds, which are found in abundance on the lake. The white part of the reed can also be eaten – it’s full of calcium, apparently. We tried some whilst there and it was quite tasty, though a little chewy in a celery-like way. The islands themselves are based on 2-3 metre thick bundles of roots, formed by the reeds. Islands are crafted by the implanting of sticks into large sections of the root, which are then secured to other sections with rope. Our guide explained that his ancestors used a natural fibre rope, which only lasted a few months, but that the new ropes last for about a year. Islands have a lifespan of about ten years in total. Layers of reeds are placed in a criss-cross pattern on top of the root base, another metre thick, and as the reeds underneath rot away, the top layers are replaced - every two weeks across every island. Some of the islands are quite large and hold shops, schools and a hospital, made out of lightweight buildings (seemingly corrugated iron). Others support from two to ten families. A few hundred people live on the islands to maintain them and, of course, to hold court for the hundreds of visiting tourists, but most of the modern Uros people have moved to the mainland.
I was curious, as most people are, as to why this strange and difficult culture would be adopted when the surrounding area is perfectly habitable. History has it, though, that the Uros people always used reed boats to fish from the islands and created permanent, habitable ‘boats’ when the Incas arrived, as a form of defence and escape from the Incan expansionism. It seems to have worked, because although the Uros have lost their original language, today’s inhabitants can still trace their ancestry to pre-Incan times and many specific cultural ideologies and methods have been retained, despite the boatloads of gringos turning up every day to try eating a reed and stumbling over on the squashy reed floor. Indeed, it is thought that the culture may be entirely lost by now (considering the numbers of Uros people who had been emigrating to the mainland) if the destination wasn’t so popular with tourists. The families on the islands profit from agreements with tour companies, reed-boat rides around the lake and by selling the handicrafts they make by weaving reeds (the men) and threading tapestries (the women). Although there’s obviously no mains electricity on the islands, we spotted quite a few solar panels and TV aerials!
Our tour lasted three hours and, as I mentioned in the previous blodge, cost just £4.20 each! Although we’d heard that the tours were rushed and generally not great, our guide was really interesting and knowledgeable. Although the family on the island we visited put on rather a display for us, we didn’t feel like they were being forced into it, or that they resented our presence – more that, for a few hours a day, entertaining tourists was their job and they were happy to just get on with it! Although we didn’t buy souvenirs, others on our boat bought lots of things they’ll probably wonder what to do with when they got home, so the family did quite well out of the hour’s visit!
When we arrived back on non-reed land we had a delicious lunch in Puno town centre. I had kingfish, from the lake of course, with cherry sauce and cheesy miniature jacket potatoes, and Neddy tried alpaca steak with red wine sauce… and chips!
That afternoon I caught up the blodge (as I am again now!) and Neddy tried to carry on with his cross-stitch despite having freezing hands. Wrapped up in scarves, gloves and blankets, we watched a film before snuggling under a pile of blankets AND our sleeping bags to get to sleep!
On Tuesday morning we climbed back onto another bus, this one arranged for us by Freda (she was extremely helpful), ready for another 6-hour journey to Arequipa. This one was a bit of a nightmare. Whilst we had the excellent top-deck front seats again, this also meant we could see every near miss our reckless driver made as he careened around corners and overtook in the most ridiculous places. Fortunately the scenery was stunning, passing snow-capped mountains and calm, deep-blue lakes. Still, we were extremely glad to get off in Arequipa.
We weren’t really in the mood to deal with the taxi driver who tried to convince us to go to the hostel he gets commission for advertising, so we told him we had a reservation (we didn’t) and handed him the business card for a hostel we’d been given by Freda. On arrival, the driver took out our bags then waited while the owner came down. I quietly explained that we didn’t have a reservation but could we come in to see if he had a room, and he obligingly took us upstairs before telling us there was no space. This wasn’t a problem, as we had a short list of nearby places to try and the owner helpfully telephoned one of them to see if they had availability before we started trawling the streets. This took a good five minutes but, when we went down, the taxi driver was still waiting! It was obvious, as we were leaving the hostel, that we’d lied to him and we felt a bit silly but strode on past anyway, ignoring his pleas to come to the hostel he knew (which we are told are invariably grotty and overpriced!). Just up the road we found the hostel we were looking for, a lovely place with a sunny courtyard and a huge room with high ceilings and an en-suite bathroom.
We spent a full day in Arequipa, exploring the city famous for it’s white volcanic stone buildings (very Gondor) and backdrop of towering, snow capped volcanoes: “Misti”, “Chacani” and “Pichu Pichu”. See the soon-to-come photos! In the evening we fancied a bit of England so went to see Robin Hood at the cinema.
On Wednesday, the 19th, we reluctantly boarded another bus, this one headed for the small Andean town of Cabanaconde, the access point for Colca Canyon. We’d booked a hostel online the night before and were lucky enough to have the young owner, Luy, sitting behind us on the bus! He pointed out various interesting things along the way, though we didn’t need his help to spot the groups of Vicunas (a wild camel, like a skinny alpaca) on the mountainous plains. This was the first time we had seen camelids in large numbers – huge herds of llamas and alpacas, as well as the wild type – in South America as, though they’re iconic of the Andes, they are herded only at altitudes over 3,000 metres. The bus ride, though long, was much less scary and spectacular. We dropped down from the mountain passes into the valley at the head of Colca Canyon. Colca is the second deepest canyon in the world - at 4,000 metres from top to bottom it is twice as deep as the Grand Canyon (though the sides aren’t as vertical).
At Chivay, the small transit town for the area, a couple of official-looking people got on the bus and tried to persuade us to buy the ‘tourist ticket’ for the canyon. However, the LP and other sources had told us that, unless we were going to a specific site (we weren’t) we didn’t need this ticket, so we stood our ground and refused to buy it. A bit scary, but it was obvious in the end that they couldn’t make us, as they eventually accepted our refusal and got off. Again, I don’t want to seem stingy, but we couldn’t see what the 35 soles (just under £9) for the ticket went towards, so we weren’t happy just handing it over. The canyon hardly needs maintenance, and we were helping the locals (rather than the tourism office) more by taking their buses, eating their food and staying in their hostels.
In all honesty, on this trip I have slowly realised what it’s like to be on the sour end of frankly rather racist assumptions, especially in South East Asia and South America. Because we’re white, we’re assumed to be both rich and gullible. Whilst we are comparatively extremely wealthy in terms of possessions and lifestyle, we’re actually on a very tight budget and certainly don’t want to pay over the odds for things. And we try very hard not to be gullible. We’re not disrespectful, we speak the language (albeit poorly, but we try!) and still we get charged three times as much as locals for everything, including the toilets, because we’re clearly foreign. Political correctness might be overdone in the UK, but at least everyone has to pay 20p for the toilets at Paddington – not 20p for the Britsh, £1 for foreigners! A toilet is a toilet, for heaven’s sake!
Rant over. So, we got past the scary ticket people and arrived at Cabanaconde in time for dinner and a glass of wine before bed.
Thursday was my birthday! I did get to open one present as a surprise – Neddy bought me an English/Spanish dictionary for those awkward moments, as well as some earrings from Cusco that I’d chosen myself. We spent the first day of my 24th year on a mission to the Oasis at the bottom of the canyon, a two-hour walk down Colca’s imposing flanks. It was sunny and we laughed and joked on the way down, chatting to the locals carrying supplies up and down the steep, winding path and taking photos of their mules and donkeys as they plodded around the stony corners. At the bottom, we were slightly disconcerted by the lack of people, but eventually found the toothless owner of the ‘Eden’ resort (don’t get carried away with resort, it had a beautiful swimming pool and not much else) and paid a little for a deliciously cool swim and a rather interesting lunch of avocado salad, mashed potato and rice.
At about 1.30 pm we thought we’d better start back up the old hill, considering how far it was and how steep, and we bought a second bottle of water to help us on our way. It was a long way. At first, the sun was out and it was hot and thirsty work – we finished the first bottle of water in 15 minutes! We hid under a rock for another ten, and when we emerged the sun was thankfully heading behind a large bank of cloud. We struggled on, playing word games to keep our minds from the curving, crumbly path. Halfway up, we were joined by an exhausted-looking American, Rob, who we’d met the night before. He’d powered up so far, having started after us, but now had cramp and was also running out of water. The three of us slowly climbed the rest of the way, checking our position against the power lines at the top. I can honestly say it was probably the most physically demanding hike I’ve ever done, stamina-wise! We were elated on reaching the top and have a lovely ‘mountaineering’ photo of the three of us to prove it!
We had a huge dinner and Pisco sours, the local cocktail, to celebrate my birthday. Luy made me a chocolate crepe with a candle in, too!
Yesterday morning we decided to break up the 6-hour journey back to Arequipa by stopping at the 3 hour halfway mark, Chivay, for a muscle-soaking dip in their hot springs. We also met some absolutely gorgeous baby alpacas in the town square, and have decided that we want one! The second leg of our journey was especially interesting as we were entertained with a film, which was in Spanish, but seemed to involved the storyline of two young lesbians and quite a lot of nudity…the men were certainly most intrigued! We arrived back in Arequipa at 7pm, just in time for a dinner at a local Turkish restaurant, where we reminisced about Jordan whilst eating falafel and kofte wraps!
Today we’ve just relaxed as tonight we’re off again, on another epic bus journey (overnight, 11 hours) to the coast. We’ve sensibly booked the big, slightly more expensive seats on the ground floor of the bus and will let you all know how it goes in another few days!