A Lake so Nice They Named It Two Times Twice, Lake Titicaca

Note: After catching some flack for a historical fiction story on the Galapagos based on a bird species I will be refraining from making comments throughout this article on the name of a certain lake that may or may not be referred to as something that could be construed as hilarious. I will allow the reader to make the appropriate inappropriate joke him/herself.

Lake Titicaca, the highest navigable lake in the world. How high is it? At 3810 m, it's soooooo high that [editor deleted inappropriate joke]. I'm still not sure what make a lake navigable and others not, but I can tell you that this altitude does not allow for casual swimming. I am all about a good polar bear swim, but I got no where near the 'point of no return' when I went wading into the water (it is colder than Crater Lake). Because swimming and lazing in the cold atmosphere did not appeal to us we found ourselves in a pickle until we heard about other peculiarities to explore in the area.

Puno, the town where one stays when visiting the Peruvian side of the lake is NOT one of these peculiarities. It is an uninspiring parched city that does not deserve one red (or any other colored) tourist cent. After touring the inside of several Internet cafes we busted out on a two day tour of some of the nearby islands.

If the foolish man built his house upon the sand and the wise man built his house upon the rock what does that make the people who build their houses upon floating reed islands? That's right, these two meters thick and several thousand square feet islands float on Lake Titicaca made of reed. These people's entire livelihood is based on the large grass that they get from the lake. They use it as cooking fuel, make their houses, boats, artisan goods, eat it, sleep on it, oh and did I mention that their island is made out of it? I have to imagine that this is the most unique place I have ever seen anyone living.

It is assumed that the reason these people are living how they are was to avoid the Inca's as they took over South America. To escape capture, waterboarding (amongst other torture techniques), and an assimilation process that makes the Borg look friendly these people moved onto their boats to live. Eventually they started tying the boats together to make small islands. Today the spongy reed covers a large enough area for them to have a volleyball court complete with net and ball.

There are multiple floating islands and when I asked one of the locals about this phenomena he just smiled and looked at his well used saw. Can you imagine your neighbor inviting you over for a drink one day, and as you walk out of your house the next morning with a wicked hangover you discover that your neighbor is gone. In fact the entire island that you use to live on is gone except for the small portion that your house sat on which fortunately you discover still softly under your feet. Oh well, I guess you would just have to grab your reed paddle and go tie up with another island.

After the morning on the floating islands we went to an earthen island were we stayed with a local family. These host families speak no English, but are still kind enough to invite tourists into their house. I would imagine that the room we stayed in is nicer than theirs, but I didn't get the chance to verify. Dave and I sat in the kitchen very comfortable in the awkward silence between the races because it gave us flashbacks of our days in the Corps.

After dinner we went to a night club in the plaza (read: large spare room in a store) and danced with the host family in their traditional no-rhythm style, and I fit right in. After a while some of the locals who were looking for a laugh came in to watch the gringo dancing mayhem. The guide introduced us, and for the first time in three weeks in Perú we found some real people that like the same three jokes I told in Panama. Things were warming up to be a late night talking and joking around when hour hostesses came up and told us it was time to go. We had no flashlight and even less idea where the house was, so we had to leave. Figures.

The second time around in Puno was no better than the first, but we did go out for one last-ditch effort to find cuy. The little rodent is expensive by local standards, and is only consumed by them on special occasions. It has a dark turkey meat flavor with a hint of gizzard, but the big turn off is it comes in the skin. The skin is chewier than leather, and the fat on the inside is worse than boiled pig fat. In fairness it was not horrible, but I'd rather eat alpaca or lamb any day of the week. With this quest finally accomplished we could finally bit bon voyage to Perú and get into the budget friendly Bolivia.