Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Underground Adventures - Potosi Mine Tour

The mine tour is the main reason travellers head to Potosi. Let me tell you now. It is definitely worth the bus ride there. After several recommendations from others we decided to go with The Real Deal tours. We chose them as the company is made up entirely of ex-miners, they know the mines better than anyone else would and they money goes directly towards helping out not just the guides, but other miners and their families. Our guide had been working in the mines for 21 years. First as a miner - starting when he was 13 - then as a guide for the last 11 years. He really knew his stuff.

The tour starts off with everyone getting into their miner gear. (Protective clothes. Hard hat with torch. Battery pack. Gum boots). Then it´s off to the miners market to buy gifts for the miners who you meet inside the mines. Appropriate gifts include coca leaves, ceibo (93% alcohol - surprisingly tasty), soft drinks and dynamite (with all the appropriate devices to make it active - all for just $2). To make us less nervous around the explosives we were holding our guide, Llama Face, decided to demonstrate to us how safe it was.....by holding a flame underneath them. Needless to say, I don´t care how many times he´s done it... it still made me nervous! Next stop was at the processing plant where we learned all about how silver is separated from the rubble.

I have to say, when it was time to enter the mine, I did become a little nervous. I reminded myself that in Brisbane I used to do this sort of thing for fun - without a  guide. Things will be ok. Take a deep breath. Turn on your head lamp and walk on in that mine.

Our guide explained to us that the mines are co-operatives, with no support from the government - hence the bringing of gifts. He also explained that the different groups working were all family groups. Brothers, uncles, fathers and cousins all working together in the mines. The miners were by far the happiest Bolivians we met. Due to being in family groups, they are constantly laughing and joking - with the motto in life ´anything is possible!´ Amazing people. Possibly also the only Bolivians we met that didn´t seem to openly dislike tourists - but were in fact happy to see us. We even had one group of miners who were on a brake share their ceibo with us.

The miners worship Tio, the devil and lord of the underground, as well as Pachamama (mother earth). The reason that they need to be friends with Tio, as he rules life under the ground. Due to this, there are many statues/shrines to Tio within the mines. When someone is hurt or dies within the mines, the miners say this is because Tio and Pachamama are thirsty for blood. To please Tio, and satisfy his need for blood, they leave offerings of llama foetus´ at his feet. Other offerings they leave include coca leaves and ceibo. Although it is common to give a small offering of these items every time you consume them - in or out of the mines.

Emerging safe and sound out the other side I felt like i´d really had my eyes opened. These men who work up to 15 hours a day underground, in what is considered appalling conditions had a better outlook on life than so many people who are much more fortunate. Amazing people indeed.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

12 Lessons learned in Bolivia

1) Bolivians don´t bargain - at least not with gringos - whatever price they tell you, that´s it. (With the odd exception of tour operators)
      - addition to said rule - you´re a gringo, you pay more. always.

2) Bolivians don´t queue. No matter where you are in line someone (or more likely many people) will push in front of you.

3) Soup is an amazing, varied and delicious food served before lunch and dinner. Generally it is much better than the actual meal.

4) Unless I am working in tourism, don´t talk to me - even then my friendliness is not guaranteed.

5) Bring toilet paper everywhere! Including hostels.

6) Never wait until you are really hungry to order food. You´ll be waiting a long time just to order, and even longer for the food to arrive.

7) If you have trouble crossing the road just look for your friendly local zebra at the zebra crossing - no kidding.

8) Brass bands are a must for every city. 5am is the perfect time for a street parade and fire crackers make the perfect accompaniment.

9) The perfection of the pressure Vs heat game in the shower. The less pressure the more heat - but if you have too little pressure the heating element stops. A fun filled sport for all players.

10) Bolivia is the only country in the world (of my knowledge) where you can pay with a note the is literally ripped in half (give them both halves) and they will accept it.

11) At altitude vacuum packed goods always explode (open away from you).

12) There is no sense buying agua con gas (sparkling water) at high altitude, as it only stays fizzy for 5 minutes, and then you´re stuck with odd flavoured water.

Have legs, will climb - salt flats tour

No matter where you are on the salt flats tour, you can bet that 3 people in your car plus half of the gringos in the other 4wds will attempt to climb on, through or over it. Maybe it is a case of restlessness caused by several hours of being trapped in a 4wd. Or maybe it is some primal desire, to explore and conquer anything new.

Rusty old trains. Climbed
Rock canyons. Climbed
Rock formations. Climbed
Abandoned rusty buses. Climbed

Ok well the last one was only by me and B while we waited at the Bolivia/Chile boarder crossing.


The salt flats tour definitely gave a lot to this explorer fairy. Aside from climbing on many different objects, we experienced: lagoons of many different colours - mostly frozen; flamingos/pariwanas (although more dead than alive); hot springs; volcanoes; geysers; the Salvador Dali desert; salt flats; salt piles; salt hotels; cactus islands; photographic fun times; snow covered everything; beautiful sunrises and star filled skies.

Definitely a highlight. Though something much better described in pictures (to be added at a later date.... )

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Operation: Be Brave, Get Naked!

Name of Experiment: Be Brave, Get Naked!

Introduction: During my time in La Paz, I happened to have a conversation with a girl about the methods of being warm in a sleeping bag. She enlightened me with a theory that had been shared with her. It entailed the following: The less you wear inside your sleeping bag, the warmer you will be. The theory behind this being that the sleeping bag reflects the heat off your body, thus wearing clothes disables this process. The words of encouragement that came with this advice were "Be brave, get naked".

Bianca and I decided to test this theory during our time in Uyuni, Bolivia. We discovered upon that you could indeed be very cold inside your sleeping bad whilst wearing warm clothing - no less than 2 pairs of thermals, winter jackets, socks and jumpers. Both of us were quite shocked at this revelation.


Hypotheses: Sleeping in a sleeping bag naked will provide a warmer nights sleep than wearing clothing.


Equipment:
1 sleeping bag
1 cold night
1 private place to sleep (preferably)
1 set of warm clothes


Method:
1) Wait until one night that is exceptionally cold

2) Take off all of your clothing (underwear is permitted) and get inside your sleeping bag

3) Make sure the sleeping bag is completely closed up. Tighten the elastic ties around the hood and neck of the sleeping bag so that cold air cannot enter and warm air cannot escape.
NOTE: Do allow enough space so as not to disrupt breathing or circulation!

4) Proceed to sleep as normal

5) Observe results via comfort in body temperature levels throughout the night.
NOTE: Do not wake up purposefully to observe temperature. Allow this to happen naturally.

6) Repeat exercise wearing warm clothing

Process & Results: We tried this theory twice during our time in Uyuni and the surrounds. The first night of the experiment we stayed in a hotel entirely made out of salt - including our beds. It was indeed a very cold night. Gingerly we took off all the warm clothing we were wearing - to say the least it was unpleasant. Quickly we jumped into our sleeping bags and silk liners, shivering and waiting for the bags to warm up.

After the initial warming period it was indeed warm inside the bag. Although my skin was cool to the touch. I chose to continue to wear my socks, B however did not - which she highly regretted. In the morning we awoke to find that yes, we had been warm all night. Well, B was warm after she decided that socks were in fact a good idea.

The next night was considerably colder. We were in a very basic hostel at around 4300m above sea level surrounded by snow. We repeated the process and achieved similar results.

Conclusion:
This experiment proved the hypothesis that "Sleeping in a sleeping bag naked will provide a warmer nights sleep than wearing clothing". However, there are a few potentially confounding factors that need to be acknowledged.
1) We had been drinking rum both nights we trialed the experiment, but not on the day we were trying to sleep with our winter clothes on. However the amount of alcohol consumed was not significant.


2) Both nights of the experiment we had a few thin blankets on top of the sleeping bags, however not on the control trial.
Antagonising the confounding factors is the fact it was considerably colder the 2 nights of the experiment than it was during the control trial.
To be sure of the results this experiment would need to be repeated with fewer variables. However I hypothesise that the results would be similar.
So next time you're spending a cold night in a sleeping bag, remember this motto. Be Brave, Get Naked!
Editors note: To avoid embarrassment and possible arrest: Avoid trying this experiment on an overnight bus or company camping trip.

The Pampas

Our time in the Pampas seemed to be another point in our trip doing things that never seemed to happen. This time it was mainly due to the abrupt cold and wet snap that the pampas experienced upon our arrival. Regardless of this it was still an amazing and fun 5 days.

 Upon our arrival to Rurrenabaque (or Rurre' for short) we were so happy to be at sea level after 3.5 months in  high altitude we were practically giddy with excitement - although this may have been the overload of oxygen our bodies were feeling. The weather was humid and smelt like rain - reminding us how close we've been to the equator this whole time that we've been hiding away in the mountains.

The first night I woke to a tropical storm beating down upon us. I lay in bed smiling, thinking of summer storms in Australia. A few hours later I woke with a start *BANG* gun shot? *BANG* dynamite? *BANG* .... the distant sound of a brass band grew louder. Por supuesto I thought, finally awake enough to comprehend the noises. It was 5am, a brass band was parading down the streets, so people were letting off fire crackers in the hostel courtyard. Por supuesto. I closed my eyes and repeated to myself, 'I love Bolivia' until I fell back asleep.

When we awoke 2 hours later the temperature had dropped significantly and the tropical storm had turned into drizzle. Middle of an English winter type weather, something I was entirely under prepared for. Not deterred we set off to Fluvial for our tour. 3 hours drive, lunch with a play fighting monkey and dog and a 3 hour boat ride in the rain later we arrived in the Pampas, partly jungle but mostly wetlands. On the banks of our camp we became acquainted with Hank. The 1 eyed, 3 footed alligator that claimed that part of the river. Although we were informed that he was mostly harmless, we all made sure to exit the boat from the other side.That afternoon we were supposed to do an activity but it was too wet. We obviously were not too put out by this as I actually have no recollection of what the activity was.

The next morning we went in search of anacondas. Although, as our guides suspected, it was too wet and cold to find any. Regardless, donned in rain coats, gum boots and war paint (mud), BB and I still had a great time exploring. At one point one of the guides called us over to a tree. Thinking he had found a snake, BB and I eagerly ran over. The guide indicated to a big hole in the tree a few meters off the ground. BB climbed the tree and looked in the hole, claiming she couldn't see anything. I climbed the tree and looked in the hole, I could see something big and black that wasn't the hole. A bird? I asked the guide. As BB didn't see anything she asked me to take a photo for her - so balancing on a branch and leaning on the tree I took a photo. Suddenly the big black thing was no longer stagnant, but flying upwards - with my face being the the only thing between it and the exit. I will admit, I let out a girly scream, much to the delight of BB and the guide. But to be honest, I was impressed I didn't fall out of the tree or drop BB's camera. Looking inside the tree again I saw 2 massive eggs. What a crap parent, I proclaimed, at the first sign of danger it abandoned their nest. After I climbed down, the still in hysterics B and Mario (our guide), explained that it was a vulture nest and that he had tapped the tree to startle it, and thus startle me! Once my heart had returned from my throat I found it hilarious as well.


Out of all of the specified activities, we didn't really fulfil any of them. We looked for anacondas but didn't find any, we fished for pirañas but didn't catch any, we went to swim with pink dolphins but they swam away and we didn't do the other thing that i can't remember. Despite all this I had an amazing time. I got to feed wild monkeys; see pink dolphins and many other amazing creatures I'd never encountered before; met some people from Chile who had an incredible outlook on life; and shared some rare moments with 3 of the guides and another guest one night around the campfire after the others had gone to bed. The guides shared folklore stories and beliefs of the area with us - which was kindly translated for me by a very patient Chilean. It's rare moments like this that I really cherish when I travel. The experiences that you don't pay for.

Back in Rurre we spent our last night hanging out with the 2 other people in our group. We sat around a fire, in the outdoor area of a bar in the rain. All 4 of us wishing we were back around the fire in the Pampas.

Monday, August 15, 2011

The Pilgrimage

At the moment I am about a third of the way through Paulo Coelho´s ´The Pilgrimage´ (1987). This book has resonated with me on so many levels. While, as with all of Coelho´s book, the book is more about the message than the story itself, there are some parts I really want to share.


¨The ship is safest in the port, but that´s not what ships were built for."¨ p21


¨When you travel, you experience, in a very practical way, the act of rebirth. You confront completely new situations, the day passes more slowly, and on most journeys you don´t even understand the language the people speak. So you are like a child coming out of the womb. You begin to attach much more importance to the things around you because your survival depends upon them. You begin to be more accessible to others because they may be able to help you in difficult situations. And you accept any small favour from the gods with great delight, as if it were an episode you would remember for the rest of your life. 
    At the same time, since all are new, you see only the beauty in them, and you feel happy to be alive.¨ p32


I feel that this paragragh really explains why it is I love travel. Everything is new and exciting and a little scary. But at the same time most people you meet are in the same situation, so they are more open and welcoming than they may be at home. I feel that travel brings out the best in people. Travelling, through giving us knew stimuli, helps keep us alive instead of meerly living. 




It is the pleasure of searching and the pleasure of the adventure.  You are nourishing something that’s very important-your dreams.  We must never stop dreaming.  Dreams providenourishment for the soul, just as a meal does for the body.  Many times in our lives we see our dreams shattered and our desires frustrated, but we have to continue dreaming.  If we don’t, our soul dies…

…The Good fight is the one we fight because our heart asks it of us…
…The Good fight is the one that’s fought in the name of our dreams.  When we’re young our dreams first explode inside us with all of their force, we are very courageous, but we haven’t yet learned how to fight.  With great effort, we learn how to fight, but by then we no longer have the courage to go into combat.  So we turn against ourselves and do battle within.  We become our own worst enemy.  We say that our dreams were childish, or too difficult to realize, or the result or our not having known enough about life.  We kill our dreams because we are afraid to fight the good fight.
The first symptom of the process of killing our dreams is lack of time… The Busiest people I have known in my life always have time enough to do everything.  Those who do nothing are always tired and pay no attention to the little amount of work they are required to do. They complain constantly that the day is too short.  The Truth is, they are afraid to fight the good fight…
The second symptom of the death of our dreams lies in our certainties.  Because we don’t want to see life as a grand adventure, we begin to think of ourselves as wise and fair and correct in asking so little of life.  We look beyond the walls of our day-to-day existence, and we hear the sound of lances breaking, we smell the dust and the sweat, and we see the great defeats and the fire in the eyes of the warriors. But we never see the delight, the immense delight in the hearts of those engaged in the battle.  For them, neither victory nor defeat is important; what’s important is only that they are fighting the good fight.
And, finally, the third symptom of the passing of our dreams is peace.  Life becomes a Sunday afternoon; we ask for nothing grand, and we cease to demand anything more than we are willing to give.  In that state we think of ourselves as being mature; we put aside the fantasies of our youth, and we seek personal and professional achievement.  We are surprised when people our age say that they still want this or that out of life.  But really, deep in our hearts, we know that what has happened is that we have renounced the battle for our dreams-we have refused to fight the good fight.
When we renounce our dreams and find peace, we go through a period of tranquility.  But the dead dreams begin to rot within us and to infect our entire being.  We become cruel to those around us, and then we begin to direct this cruelty against ourselves…What we sought to avoid in combat-disappointment and defeat-came upon us because of our cowardice.  And one day, the dead, spoiled dreams make it difficult to breath, and we actually seek death.  It’s death that frees us from out certainties, from our work, and from that terrible peace of Sunday afternoons.”  pg 50-52
Never stop dreaming and never lose courage to follow those dreams!

Friday, August 12, 2011

El Choro Trek

La Paz is nothing like Copacabana. It is more like a larger, poorer, dirtier, less friendly version of Cusco. Like Cusco´s ugly older sibling. The cityscape is random and there are massive rock formations dotting in between the suburbs. A place you really have to see for yourself to truly grasp. Deciding we didn´t want to spend much time there, we booked ourselves in to do the El Choro trek, as it was recommended by some friends. We had it on good authority that it was all downhill....it´s not.

The hike starts in sparse mountainous landscapes at 4860m above sea level. We were surrounded by snow and frozen lakes, accompanied only by our guide, his wife - who we dubbed cholita, and 3 other hikers (2 french girls and a german guy). I suddenly felt that i had severely underestimated the amount of warm clothes i had brought with me, even though i had brought ALL of them (despite the fact this was the first time we´d done a trek where we were required to carry all of our belongings - except for tents and food - but everything else - sleeping bag, sleeping mats, water, clothes etc was on our backs for the 3 days). However within 2 hours of walking we were stripping off jumpers and second pairs of pants as the mid day sun and hiking heated us up. By the end of the first day, we were in green fields next to a river and up until this point it was true, the hike was basically 6 hours of downhill.

Our guide (who only spoke spanish), explained to me that we would be staying at the small campsite as we needed to get some good sleep before another day filled with 6 hours of walking. This seemed to be going according to plan. They starting cooking dinner, BB and I did some yoga by the river to ease our muscles from a day of hiking, the sun began to set, all was tranquil... until. Suddenly, appearing in the darkness we saw 10 Bolivians, around the age of 16. The next time we looked this had doubled. More and more young Bolivianos appeared, carrying next to no equipment, until suddenly in our tranquil campsite we had a whole school group of Bolivianos plus a few teachers. In total they had one 3-person tent between about 30 of them. Over dinner the 7 of us found great amusement in watching them try and figure out some form of campsite, involving two roles of orange plastic. Although school kids being school kids, our campsite was tranquil no more.

The next day we got up early and started out again. All of us grumbling about the amount of noise we´d been exposed to the night before...getting old much??? We were warned that there would be ´20 minutes of uphill´that day. There was. It was about 80º up. We soon discovered that when they say there will be some uphill they only count it if the hill is on more than a 70º angle. Despite them lying about whether the walking would be mostly up or down hill, the scenery was beautiful and had changed dramatically since the previous days hiking. We spent most of the day hiking through cloud forests, past waterfalls and viewing a lot more bird life. That night we were lucky enough to once again share a campsite with the school group - although this time we were much further away from them. We also shared the campsite with a 6 year old girl who lived there. She, like all 6 year olds, needed to know everything we were doing at all times. To the point where she even joined in while i was doing yoga, pretty funny. Even funnier was when she followed Bianca to the (extremely open air) bathroom - which consisted of a wooden see-through hut, a hole in the ground and a few planks - at least it was well ventilated!

The third day, once again, we were lied to about the amount of uphill we were to endure. We had to get up extremely early and start hiking in the dark so as to avoid the mid day sun. By 6am we were on the track - however this meant we were able to watch a beautiful sunrise over the mountains. Most of the third day we walked through jungle type landscape, it was incredible to think we were in such a humid climate when 2 days of walking prior we were surrounded by snow and ice. Around 1pm we arrived at a small town where we ate lunch and then took a bus to Coroico, to get another bus to La Paz.

While the hike wasn´t what it was promised to be (all down hill), it was thoroughly enjoyable and not too strenuous - the uphill parts were definitely a relief for my knees by the end of the second day. The scenery was beautiful and the constant change of landscape meant you didn´t tire of it. I got a lot of thinking done on the trek - as all of the walking was done in silence. During the three days I felt like I figured out all my plans for the next year or so, or at least a rough guide. I feel I gained a lot of perspective on this hike, something that I am very grateful for.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Reflecting on Lago Titicaca - The Bolivian side

Our real love affair with Lago Titicaca didn´t really start until we crossed the boarder into Copacabana, Bolivia. Copacabana itself is much prettier than Puno, and Isla del Sol is just amazing.

Our time in Copacabana was short, but we hiked up a mountain to a Christian monument to look out over the lake and try to watch sunset (one of our many clouded over attempts to watch sunset). Despite the clouds, the view was beautiful and it was nice to walk to up the mountain. We even got to see a wedding outside a crumbling pink church, where they had a collectivo van as their wedding car. Classy. But they looked very happy.

The next day we took a boat over to the north part of Isla del Sol, on the advise that the south was for tourists and the north was for hippies. Our friend had recommended a guest house to us, so upon arriving at the island we asked at the info desk were we could find ´Alfonzo´. To which, the man pointed to the mountain and told us ´es la ultima casa´, por supuesto (of course) we thought. Already happy with our decisions to leave most of our belongings on the mainland, we hiked up to the guesthouse. Huffing and puffing (altitude is a bitch), we arrived at Alfonzo's guest house, an unassuming place to crash, but very cheap, private rooms and full of inspiring people. To add to this our bedroom door opened up to uninterrupted views looking over the lake. All this for $2 each a night, can´t complain!!

That afternoon we spent exploring the north of the island, with a US hippy and a crazed Chilean, trying our hardest to avoid ticket booths so that we didn´t have to pay an entrance fee. It´s not that the Chilean was really crazed, but he just happened to be holding a knife (he was carving things while walking) and really liked running down hills - and wouldn´t pt the knife away in between - so for anyone else he just looked like a madman running with a knife, hahaha. We explored the island for about 5 hours, embracing the spirit of the region of trying to see pumas, condors, snakes and people in every island and rock we could see, before the sun started to set and we called it a day. After seeing the ruins we were glad that we had indeed avoided paying entrance fees.

The next day there was a festival on the island - which started at 5am. The brass band, that we had heard practicing all the day before, played in full gusto all day - sometimes during the time the other band was playing. We went to the main square to see everyone in their traditional costumes. Groups of cholitas sitting around in groups gossiping and sharing beers, giggling like school girls (It really surprised me how many of them were missing most of their teeth...). On the outskirts of the square men and women sat and drank and occasionally got up to dance. A very fun experience to watch.

Later that afternoon I was determined to go swimming. Bianca, Noah and I took to the beach, bottle of rum in hand. The day wasn´t exactly warm as it was and the water was colder. A few shots of rum later I decided it was now or never, stripped off my warm clothes and got into the sacred lake. I wouldn´t say I lasted more than 10 minutes. But the water felt amazing (despite the cold) and I felt a new surge of energy from the experience. Sharing a few precious ´Gracias Pachamama´moments with the sun and water before I retreated to the beach.

The whole time we were on Isla del Sol I had to keep reminding myself that it was in fact a freshwater lake and not the ocean. It is huge. HUGE. Islands off in the distance, no mainland in sight. An amazing sight to see and to think that people have been seeing a similar sight for thousands of years. No wonder they thought of the lake as sacred.

The next day we hopped on a boat back to the mainland, followed by a bus to La Paz - starting the next part of our adventure.

Reflecting on Lago Titicaca - The Peruvian side

Our love affair with Lago Titicaca (the sacred lake) began in Puno, Peru. When we arrived in Puno we decided straight away that it was a dump and thus decided to book an overnight adventure on the lake straight away.

Our first stop was the Uros floating islands. Whilst now more of a tourist attraction these islands have housed families for thousands of years since they took to the water fleeing attacks from both the Spanish and the Inkas. Floating islands are constructed entirely of reeds (and a little rope), we were given a brief demonstration on how they are constructed - so if the need ever presents itself, we´re set. Whilst very touristy, it was still pretty cool to see.

After the floating islands we sailed out to Amantani Island to meet our host families for the night. It´s times like this that I really which I could speak more Spanish. What we discovered over lunch via my dodgy Spanish was that the main girl watching over us was 20years old, she made handicrafts and sold them on the island, she was still studying Spanish at school (their native language was Ayamata), she rarely left the island and she isn´t interested in getting married. To keep the conversation going I told her i´d be interested in seeing the things she made - although as I rightly suspected the items were similar to what we had seen in Cusco. This was of course also a big mistake as I was then trapped in the kitchen being pressured to buy from her (´you don´t want to buy anything?´). Luckily I found some presents for people, and at least I know the money is going to the person who made the items.

Late that afternoon we walked to the top of a mountain to see the outside of a PachaTata temple that we were not allowed to enter and watch a very clouded sunset. After which we returned to our houses for dinner.

Over dinner 7 of us sat around the kitchen. Bianca and I at the table, the 3 men of the house on tiny stools near the stove, the mother in the pantry and the daughter serving everyone. The men chatted amongst themselves in Ayamata and the mother and daughter were occupied - Bianca and I were left to our own devices. We alternated between silence with staring and giggle fits about the situation - which continued to feel more awkward with every minute. Every 10 minutes or so everyone else would turn to us, as though they´d just remembered that we were there, laugh and go back to their devices. At one point I turned to Bianca, ¨I bet you they actually speak English and this is some weird kind of social experiment¨, turns out at least one of them did. Hahaha.

After dinner we were dressed in traditional costumes of the island and taken up to a hall for the evenings activities - which consisted of listening to local music and learning a strange style of dancing. The dancing consisted of holding hands in groups of 2 or 3, swinging your arms and moving your feet with no discernible rhythm. Every now and again the small groups would join together and continue this rhythmless dance as a big group. Random, but highly amusing.

The next day we said goodbye to our host families and were shipped off to Isla Taquile, a neighbouring island which we were told was much more touristy and busy. We were dropped off on one section of the island and proceeded to do a 1 hour walk, which was pleasant, finishing in the town square, which only contained tourists. We determined during this time that the only reason this island was touristy was because they brought tourists there, whether they wanted to come or not.

After 15minutes of ´free time´ we were walked to the place where we were to have lunch (not included in the price). The guide refused to let us know the deal about the lunch (even though several of us asked) until after he had given us a detailed explanation of different hats worn by men on the island - after a tiny breakfast (one small pancake) we were highly hungry and impatient. Finally he finished and told us that lunch was 20 soles for soup and an omellet! MUY CARO (very expensive)!!!! A similar meal in Cusco would be 8 soles maximum. 8 of us decided this was not on and trekked back to the main square in hope of cheaper food. Not only was this wish granted but the main square had been transformed. No longer full of tourists, but a group of school children practicing for a flag parade they had coming up. Full and entertained we reboarded the boat to Puno.