Lake Titicaca - part two
From the highest point on the island, where I had been taking in the surroundings for quite a while, I began making my way back down, because the sun was already setting and night was drawing near. In the orange light the last of the locals were leaving the fields, and a few souvenir sellers were bundling up large cloths full of handmade crafts and knitted clothing. Alpaca wool is the main thing sold here, so at almost every spot in Peru you'll come across knitted hats, sweaters, gloves and socks. The truth is that if you don't fall for some swindler and manage to buy a genuinely authentic piece of alpaca wool, you'll get it far cheaper in Peru than in Europe.
On the way down I came across an old local man who was carving little stone figurines beside the path. I spent a while looking over his work and then bought a small puma head from him, the puma being one of the sacred animals in this country. The little village by the lake was already coming to life with its evening bustle. On a small square, a few women had fired up portable outdoor grills and were selling seared skewers. I settled into a little restaurant with a cup of tea and watched the goings-on around me.
Even though I'd climbed to the top of the island with the help of coca and no headache, up there I took it out of my mouth - and that was a mistake. On the way down the pain set in, joined by a touch of nausea. I couldn't even think of anything but tea, and yet in a few minutes dinner with my hosts was waiting for me. I made do with a tasty soup that settled my stomach a little, and then went to bed early.
During the night I was woken by a heavy storm. Rain hammered on the tin roof and at times I had the feeling it was about to fly off. Morning was announced by a chorus of roosters. The island's inhabitants, who really are almost comically short, were once again dressed in their traditional costumes and had been bustling about their work since dawn. All I had planned was a quick breakfast and then the crossing to the neighbouring island of Taquile. I paid 60 soles for the lodging and food, and around nine I boarded the boat.
The journey took about an hour. I got off beneath a steeply zigzagging staircase that led high up to the top of the island. Once again I passed local people, whose clothing was a little different, dominated by brightly coloured hats. At first glance the island looked very similar.
I climbed a good hill before I reached the top and could look out over the surroundings. Here too there are several ancient stone monuments, a small town (perhaps a large village) and plenty of little plots of vegetables and corn. I stopped for a pre-arranged lunch in a building on the square, and along with the meal I was given an account of the island's customs.
Life here is very communal, and how could it be otherwise when the whole island is home to only around 2,200 people. Most of them take turns caring for the tourists, so today one family cooked my lunch, and tomorrow someone else will do the cooking and hosting. That way the money that tourism brings to the island is shared out fairly. On landing I paid an entrance fee (8 soles), which the community keeps for public expenses (footpaths, water pumping and the like). On Amantaní electricity had already been supplied from a solar power plant, but that's not the case on Taquile, where only some houses have their own small solar panels. Responsibility for the island rests with a representative of the locals, elected every year (it's an unpaid role).
Knitted garments carry many important meanings on Taquile. For instance, the hats reveal who is still considered a child and who is already an adult. Grown girls wrap themselves in black cloth with colourful tassels. Until they marry these tassels keep growing, whereas in old age the tassels on the cloth are only tiny, and in the end the grandmothers wear just black cloth with a coloured border.
The men wear colourful hats that reveal their standing within the social hierarchy. The elected representative of the island wears, in addition to the hat, a proper hat placed over it, along with a white tunic and a black waistcoat. A young man who wants to court a girl has to knit a special hat. He goes to the family of his chosen one, and her parents judge how well he has knitted the hat. When it's made correctly, the knitted fabric is so dense that it barely lets through the water the prospective father- and mother-in-law pour into it. If the young man proves himself at knitting, he is allowed to be with the girl for a two-year "trial period". After that time either the girl becomes pregnant and there's a wedding, or they split up. The women knit colourful belts for their men, into which they also weave their own hair. They also knit them little pouches used for storing coca leaves.
For lunch, a soup and an excellent trout with potatoes, I paid 20 soles, and my trip around the islands of Lake Titicaca was slowly drawing to a close. I took my last few steps across Taquile, descended the many stairs back down to the harbour, and set sail for the civilization of the settled town of Puno. For a while I wandered around town, picked up at the hotel some of the things I hadn't needed on the lake, took a shower, and then just waited for a taxi to collect me and take me to the bus station. Overnight I faced the journey to perhaps the most famous city and the gateway to the legendary Machu Picchu - the city of Cusco.