Puno

We left Bolivia behind, crossed into Peru, and arrived in Puno. From there, we had to wait 3-4 hours before taking a very long bus journey to Cusco, our final destination.

On the bus, we had the option to extend our “booked-guided trip” and include a guided tour on the Peruvian side of the lake before taking the final transfer to Cusco.

Puno is another ancient city that lived and breathed from the lake and is famous for the “floating islands” nearby.

The floating islands are man-made, constructed from the roots of plants that grow in the lake. By layering these roots on top of each other, they create a fairly solid ground that becomes an island. The people who live there call themselves “children of the lake.”

To be honest, the whole thing feels like a bit of a setup for tourists. The people living there supposedly reject Western civilization, but it feels like they’re just putting on a show (and hoping for tips) and then sneaking back to their regular lives in the evening. We were confused by the whole thing because it seemed surreal and out of place with the rest of the environment—but who am I to argue with hundreds of years of tradition, especially when the pictures look so good...

On this trip, we met two American teenage girls (exchange students traveling from Argentina) who had the same route to Cusco, and we spent some time with them at the bus station waiting for the next bus.

Despite my usual reservations about American tourists, I noticed that one of the girls seemed particularly moody. At first, I blamed her age, but then she mentioned that she was a vegetarian. I couldn't help but wonder what a vegetarian was doing in Argentina for six months—perhaps she was hoping to find a cure after sampling some of the world’s best steaks. I hope a steak will give her a smile; I know it will give me one…

Anyway, our overnight 8-hour bus journey to Cusco was as uncomfortable as you might expect for a Peruvian bus experience. Dora, the moody vegetarian, and I snuck into the higher-class cabin seats that reclined a bit more. Still not enough legroom for me, but at least it was a separate cabin from cattle class. There was one problem, though—a lit exit sign on the roof was too bright to sleep, and it couldn’t be turned off. A crazy Spaniard in front of us saved the night by using his penknife to break into the light’s circuit. He managed to turn all the lights off, and we had a good night’s sleep.

Cusco, here we come—please have the pisco sours ready…