Lake Titicaca: Between Water and Heaven

We took an 8 hour bus ride to Puno, the biggest city on the shore of Lake Titicaca. It has 200,000 inhabitants and thrives on tourism. People from all over the world come here to set sail on the famous lake. It is the highest lake in the world, second largest in South America (although it is the biggest if you go by volume), and shares its shore with Bolivia. The most important part about the lake is the islands.

The name “Titicaca” means mountain cat in Quechua, the indigenous language of the South American people. Some of the islands reach 6000 meters, or 20,000 feet. People standing on top of these islands could overlook the lake and see that the shape is basically that of a cat catching a rabbi, hence the name.

We took a tour of two different islands. The first is probably the most famous, called Uros, the floating islands. Our tour guide picked us up at 6:30, led us to an empty white van and left us alone while he went to pick up more guests. The majority of the people in our tour were Americans and French. Our tour guide spoke Spanish and English, although his native language was Quechua.

The boat ride to the Uros Islands was about 30 minutes. There are 60 islands in this community, each holding up to 10 families. If there are more than 10 families, they have to build a new island. Each island has a sort of chief, or person who is in charge of the families. The one we visited had 6 families living there, and we got to see their houses and how they lived.

When our boat approached the island, they were waiting for us, waving, in their bright colored skirts and long braids. When we each got off the boat, they helped us onto the island, made solely of reeds from the lake, and said one word in Quechua that meant, “good morning, welcome, how are you?” to which we replied “Waliki,” meaning “good, thank you, and good to see you.”

Standing on the island was an interesting feeling. It was sturdy enough, since all 20 people in our tour jumped at the same time and it didn’t sink. But it still moved with the waves of the lake, getting worse when other tourist boats passed. To build the island, they took 2 feet of the roots of the reeds, cut them into cubes, tied them together, and added several layers of criss-crossing reeds. Simple as that. It didn’t take very long to make an island, but they will last for 60 years.

Life on the islands is pretty simple. They have one main island where all of the kids go to school (they only have elementary school, and the teachers are from Puno), where they can buy some supplies (otherwise they have to go to the mainland of Puno and buy it there), and the dance club. They also have their churches here. Almost 80% of the community is Catholic, so the go to church on Sundays.

Their bathrooms are on a separate island, so you have to plan ahead if you need to use one, since it takes awhile to paddle there. They also have a cemetery island, which is closer to a mountain.

The people used to live in peace, but in the last 15 years, they have been exploited by tourism. I found it fascinating to see how these people live, but also very sad to see how we have completely taken over their lives. In some ways it helps them, because we pay a fee to get on the island, and then we can purchase their handy-crafts. So the money goes to pay for school, gas for boats, and supplies. But on the other hand, they have no privacy. They have no integrity in their way of life. They are preserving their customs and traditions just to sell it. I wonder if the floating islands would still exist today if tourists hadn’t invaded their lives.

I think they would be. They explain their lives as living between water and heaven. The people have a certain charm, a simple yet elegant life. The kids run around laughing and playing with each other, with no fear of falling and hurting themselves because the reeds make a soft landing. The kids learn to swim at 4 or before, so there is no fear of them falling into the water and drowning. They are always chewing on reeds or bananas of the lake, as they call them.

Then the people tried to sell us tapestries, jewelry, and hand-made toy boats. I wanted to help support them, but I didn’t bring enough money. They looked so disappoint, mad even, when I told them no thank you. This is when I realized their hospitality has been tainted by tourism. I don’t blame them, not in the slightest. But after years of rich Americans coming and practically handing them money, I would grow to expect that sort of treatment too. But then when they don’t get, they are bitter. I guess tourism in some cases is a necessary evil, and I am playing my part by fueling it. I wish there was a better way to see the world than falling into the tourist trap. I’m still working on that one.

When we left the island, the women sang us songs in Quechua, Spanish, and then “Row, row, row your boat” in English. We set sail in their hand-made boats to go visit the main island. (We also had to pay them an extra $5 before we got off). There wasn’t much to do there, except buy more souvenirs. Overall it was an interesting cultural experience, and I am very glad I got to see the people and their way of life, but I felt guilty for interrupting their lives.

We then took another 2.5 hours to go to the island of Tequile. It is one of the bigger islands in the lake, housing about 2500 people. It’s elevation is about 13,000 feet, so you can imagine how hard it was to climb up to their main village. It should have only taken about 15 minutes to get there, but with the altitude, we hiked for about 45.

The people here also speak Quechua and are farmers. They rotate the land, growing potatoes, corn, then potatoes. After that they would take a break for 3 years so the soil could regain nutrients. About half of the island was being farmed at one time, but everyone worked together without wages. They knew that if they helped their neighbor today, next year when they needed help, their neighbor would do the same for them. They live by the motto, “do not steal, do not lie, and do not be idle.” Because of this, there is no police and no jail. They seem to have life figured out.

The island is known for its good quality textiles. I found it interesting that knitting is down exclusively by the men. Women make the yarn and weave.

Women also cook. We had lunch on the island: quinoa soup, trout, rice, and mixed veggies. We drank hot coca tea to help with the altitude. It was all very good and very fresh. I usually don’t eat fish, and while I didn’t necessarily enjoy eating, I’m learning to like and appreciate different foods. No better place to eat trout than where it was caught that morning.

We had some time explore the island and look at the textiles. It was a very interesting community, with a church, hall council, and other gathering spaces. I wondered about the government, and if they even needed one.

They made some money from selling their crops. 90% went to the people and 10% went to the island. This percentage was for the boats to get to Puno when they needed extra supplies. They have a house in Puno where they can stay for free when they visit. The students who go to University in Puno also stay there for free.

There is no divorce in Tequile Island. They live together for 3-5 years before getting married. But if the woman becomes pregnant, they must get married. Some of the people choose to marry someone for another island, so as to avoid genetic problems. The kids here go to elementary, middle, and high school (unlike the Uros).

Although this community has also been influenced by tourism, I felt like it was more secluded still and parts were untouched by it. Since the island is bigger, there is more privacy for the people. Tourists were kept to a certain part of the island, and we were not invading their lives completely. I felt more like a guest here, welcome and wanted, instead of an intruder.

We finished our tour by walking around the island. It took about 45 minutes to go around, and it was cool to see all sides of the lake. Bolivia was in the distance, and there were several mountains and islands within sight.

We had another 3 hours in the boat back to Puno, and I talked with a lot of the other travelers. We got advice on Machu Picchu and where to go, what to eat, where to stay. We met this family from the US, a brother and sister and their dad. It was funny because they looked like they were married at first, and our tour guide just assumed they were a couple. But they were taking their dad on a vacation to starch off Machu Picchu from his bucket list. He had to have been in his late 60s, and I was very impressed that he could keep up with the altitude and other stresses of travel. Of course they were traveling in a lot more luxury than Dorothy and I, but it was cool to talk with them hear their stories.

We also ran into them later that night in the main square. Puno the actual town is not very big, most people come for tours of the islands. There was one cathedral and one main street that had all the shops and restaurants. Since they flew back to the States the next day, they gave us their coca leaves to help with the altitude. I felt connected to them, and to the world in general. It’s crazy how small the world is, and how you can always find a taste of home. I also met someone who went to college with a girl I went to high school with.

After that we went back to our hostel and made ramen. Money is going way too fast here, and eating out costs a lot in the tourists zones. Our hostel was not very good. The bathrooms were outside, and although they usually had hot water, the pressure was so low that I couldn’t get the shampoo out of my hair. The rooms were also very dirty and the beds uncomfortable. We had a pet spider, named Edmund, who we unfortunately had to sacrifice ceremoniously, involving a flip flop and slight scream.

I tried to keep a positive attitude about the sleeping arrangements. After all, I’m in Peru, a fairly poor country where hot water is a luxury for most. But I’ve been on the road for a long time. I’m tired, mentally exhausted and ready to be home. Home: where I can sit down on the toilet, throw the toilet paper in the toilet, and not worry about whether or not it’s going to flush when I take a dump.

But then I think of the people on the floating islands who have to paddle to another island just to pee, so I grit my teeth and deal with it.