Puno & Lake Titicaca, Peru
December 7 - 9
Days 37 - 39
I’m on a train. A luxury train, with white tablecloths and big comfy chairs. There’s a gold colored lamp on my table and pink flowers in a little vase nestled between little salt and pepper shakers. It’s 7:21 AM; the train departed Cusco at 7:10 on the nose because trains run on time. I drink chamomile tea. Andean flute music plays softly in the background. Chitter chatter buzz around the car accompanies a gentle clatter of teaspoons on saucers.
As we leave the urban sprawl of Cusco, the scenery changes to gentle mountains of burgundy earth scattered with buildings and corn fields. I love the richness of the earth here and how the same colors are present in native textiles, clothing, building materials, and artwork. It helps create a sense of place when the colors of the earth are echoed in what the people create.
2,600 meters above sea level, clouds form on hills just beyond the tracks, nearly within arms reach. The train travels through the high plateau, crossing mountains, cow fields, and snowy grasslands. Through rain, wind, and sun, we go.
At 5 PM, approximately 10 hours later, the train arrives in Puno. I check into my hostel, meet some people, and join them for dinner in a nearby, British-style restaurant. It’s nearly Christmas and we are all excited to have mulled wine and a roast dinner.
I struggle breathing in Puno, an additional 500 meters above sea level from Cusco. I sleep lightly and wake early to eat a simple breakfast of bananas, ham, and cheese. I walk in the direction of the port. A brisk breeze chills my skin while the sun beats down from above. The city is far from glamorous - businesses catering to locals advertise window installations, kitchen renovations, and car repairs. The port has tourist attractions and ice cream carts. Children run around and adults take pictures with historic attractions.
Onwards to the main market, although it is 4 PM and many stalls have closed for the day. I buy a banana and a papaya for tomorrow’s breakfast and continue back to the hostel. I pass through a square and decide to sit down. “Esta ocupado?” I ask a woman on the bench. She smiles and I join her. We end up talking for over an hour. She asks me about my travels, and I ask her about life in Puno. She has children but they’ve moved to larger cities. Puno is slow and quiet, a good place to raise a family but no economic opportunities for young adults. I ask about the protests breaking out in the cities over the change in presidents*. She says the whole thing is corrupt but she wants to support the old president. She wants change but doesn’t believe it will happen. She has seen many presidents make promises they do not keep. Behind us, a bride and groom exit a church into a crowd of cheering friends and family.
The next day, I’m signed up for a trip to Lake Titicaca, the highest navigable lake in the world at 3,800 meters above sea level, and, in Andean mythology, the birthplace of humanity. The lake is sacred and mystical.
We drive to the launch pad and load into tandem kayaks. I share the kayak with another girl from my hostel dorm, Almendra. We paddle through the polluted lake near the city. The further out we go, the clearer the water becomes. It’s very shallow. We eventually make our way through a path in the weeds and arrive at Uros, the reed city that floats on the lake.
We disembark the kayaks onto a plot of “land” on the floating island. The man who lives here tells us the history of the lake and how the reed island is built. The island is completely self sufficient, using solar power for electricity, natural building materials, and water from the lake. Their main economy is tourism, however they only need money on the mainland.
They show us inside one house, then set out their handmade crafts. I buy a small blanket with blue birds and fish embroidery. Then we are off to the next island, an hour away in a speedboat. The ride is calm, and Almendra and I lay in the sun on the top deck, wind blowing through our hair and sun kissing our faces.
We eat a divine lunch of vegetable soup and local fish and then walk up hill to see a traditional dance performance. Our guide takes us on a walk to the other side of the Island. Most people love living here. There are no cars and therefore no pollution and health problems. There was not a single case of COVID on the Island. The youth go to the mainland for education but most choose to come back and live here full time. It seemed like a happy place to enjoy a beautiful environment and live off the fertile land. They even rotate crops over the Island to avoid depleting the soil.
As I doze on our boat ride back to Puno, I think about the sacred stories of the spirit of the Lake. One such story says that the Incan Emperor hid the golden sun statue of manifestation in the depths of the Lake when he heard the Spanish were coming. No one knows where it is but some people have seen its spiritual manifestation while visiting the Lake.
According to those who know, Lake Titicaca is the manifestation of feminine energy and the Himalayas are masculine energy. I’m not entirely sure I understand what that means, but I like the sound of it.
I leave Puno via a night bus to Arequipa, the border city to Chile, where I will continue my journey south.
*Puno is now the site of the largest political protests in Peru, where many rural and working class people are protesting the newly elected, conservative president. To read more about these protests, here’s a really long article about what’s going on and the social/political context. Note that this post is about a month after my time in Puno and I left Peru before the protests became serious.