The Little Engine That Couldn't
Trip Start
Apr 19, 2010
1
126
131
Trip End
Apr 18, 2011
Where I stayed
Casa de Luis y Familia
Taquile, Peru
Saturday, January 15, 2011
At 7 o'clock in the morning, we were at the pier ready to buy our tickets out to the islands on Lake Titicaca, and by 8am, we were on our way. We first boated over to an island called Uros. Uros is a floating island of reeds and straw. Yes, people actually live on this small island and use the reeds and straw to build their homes, stores, and even boats. The island has become over touristy as noticeable by the local people giving the tourists who decided to stay on the island a mini lecture on their culture, complete with graphics on poster board. We stopped there only for a short time en route to our main destination: the Island of Taquile. The boat ride from Uros was about three hours to Taquile. And no, not a luxury boat, this was a local boat. Two benches on either side were divided by the stacks of fruit, beverages, and other items that the people had bought on the mainland and were now shipping back out to the island.
Without much of a breakfast, save some animal crackers, we were anxious to get to the island. Finally, as the big mountain in the middle of the Lake appeared, our excitement was stalled… just as the engine did. We were maybe 200 meters away from the pier of Taquile and the engine stopped running! A few people ripped the wooden cover off the engine to examine the problem. After 20 minutes, we still weren’t moving until finally the engine came to life again. Yes! Now let’s get this baby to the pier. But it wasn’t long before it stalled again. And again. And again. A boat that was docked at the pier saw that we were having troubles and came out to give us a tow. All was well. At least until some guy stood up and waved the other boat off saying, "No problemas, adios!" No, wait. Excuse me, I’d say that having the engine die on us three times leaving us stranded in the lake when we should’ve arrived 45 minutes ago constitutes as a problem. Ah well. Eventually the thing started up again and died again close enough so that we could coast into the pier. We finally made it.
Taquile is an island of about 7 square meters, inhabited by indigenous Quechua speaking people who are thought to be the most traditionally dressed group in the country. The women dress much like the more traditional women back in Puno, except in bright pinks, oranges, and greens. It’s the men that really add to the cultural flavor, as they are also in traditional garb. All men wear knitted hats that they, by social custom, knit for themselves. A red hat signifies they are married and a red and white cap indicates they are single. Other colors might be woven in as well, demonstrating a social position they hold or once held in the community. Also eye catching are their beautifully knitted waistbands, typically made by their wives. Black pants and a white shirt serve to really accentuate the colors and the craftsmanship in the two articles of clothing.
Taquile is very traditional in its way of life as well. No roads, no electricity, not even any donkeys. Anything that is meant to be transported from one side of the island is done so by people, carrying the weight by hand or more commonly in blankets folded up into sacks, on their backs. It’s not easy work either, especially considering the elevation. We had a harsh introduction to the altitude upon entering the island, with the 500 steps we had to take straight up just to get to the town from the port. Oxygen was less available than chocolate in these parts. And let me tell you, there’s no chocolate here.
About one to two thousand people live on the island and they stay very communally oriented. It’s very uncommon for a Taquile islander to marry someone from outside of the island. Additionally, the island prospers through its cooperative organization. For example, although there are 30 or so restaurants on the island, only half are open at a time, limiting the amount of competition for business. Half of the stores are open one week and then they all close down and the other half stays open for a week. Quite a different philosophy from what we know. Many people on the island spend their days farming, going to school, or selling crafts for the tourists that arrive daily. We learned that in the summer months, the cobblestone paths are so crowded with people that it’s hard to maneuver. We were lucky though. Not only were there hardly any people there beside locals, we must have been the only ones to stay the night, as we didn’t see anyone after dark. Not that it was a good idea to be out after dark. With no electricity or actual roads, getting lost was more than likely.
The view over the lake was beautiful, both at dusk and the following morning. Views of Peru on one side of the island and views of Bolivia on the other made us feel like we really had the whole world around us. Yet the peacefulness and serenity that swept across the island was a comfort that we sorely needed after the traumatic events in Puno. If the food wasn’t so expensive on the island, we could’ve easily spent a few more nights here. But our travels call us forward, as Cusco and the Lost City of the Incas beckon us to find them.
