Once over the border, and the buses flat tyre fixed, we were on our way again, and soon arrived in Puno, where I booked into a hotel for a couple of nights. Once settled, I paid for two trips, one for the following day, and the other for a two day tour out onto the islands of Lake Titicaca, where I would spend the night with a local family.
So, on Thursday 18th August, I had breakfast, and then went to the market to buy a kilo of rice, sugar, bread and oranges for the family I would be staying with the following day.

In the afternoon, I went on a trip to the pre-Inca site of Sillustani. It's an ancient burial ground set on a peninsular jutting out into Lake Omayo, which at 3900 metres, is actually higher than lake Titicaca. There are a few Chulpas there, which are burial towers, and some good views, but that's about it. A pleasant enough afternoon though, and I learned a little about Pachamama and Pachacaca, which are the earth mother and earth father of the indigenous Indians. Like most belief systems around the world, it's base is one of duality.. You have the sun and moon, night and day, good and bad, ying and yang, man and woman, heaven and hell and even heroes and villains. And that's the secret to life folks.. Balance!

Friday the 19th of August was the start of my two day trip to stay with a family on the island of Manatani. I put my rucksack in storage at the hotel, and got picked up by the tour company. There were twenty people in our group, and we got on the boat Don Jose, which would be our transport for the next two days.

The first stop, were the Uros islands, which are basically man made islands constructed from totura reeds. Before I went, I wasn't really that bothered about seeing them, as I thought it was a bit too touristy, and even though it was, I'm glad that i did, and highly recommend it. Stepping on the islands was really weird, like somebody had put lots of layers of sawdust and woodchips on top of a sponge cake is the only way that I can describe it. Apparently, when the community wants to move location, they just up anchor, and paddle to the new place in the lake. Why exactly they would want to do that was never really answered. I ended up buying a few more souvenirs, and had a short ride over to another island in a totura reed boat, although I was slightly disappointed to find out that it was kept buoyant by hundreds of empty plastic drinking bottles. It's one way of recycling them I suppose.

After that, it was a three hour boat ride to the island of Manatani. We landed, and it was a steep walk up the cliff where we were met by the families we were due to stay with. The lady whose family I stayed with was called Anselma, and she was really nice. The door to the room I was in was tiny.. really in the land of the little people! Inside was a lot better than I expected however, and in the absence of a light (no electricity) there was a candle to use after dark. After a late lunch, we walked to the top of one of the mountains, where there was a temple dedicated to the Pachamama, and watched the sunset, which was pretty spectacular, with a Peruvian band playing in the background. As we walked back down again, a full moon started rising from the sea, making it even better.

With dinner (egg and chips… ace!! hey, it's local food! They've been eating chips since way before we did!) in our bellys, it was time to prepare for the fiesta. We were required to change into fancy dress, and mine consisted of a blanket with a hole in it for the head (a poncho in other words), and some form of Peruvian birthing hat. The fiesta was held in the community hall, and it was with some relief that I saw that all the other tourists looked at least, or even slightly more, ridiculous as I did. There were two bands playing, who alternated after each song at opposite ends of the hall. I'm not sure if it was the altitude or what, but there were a lot of grinning buffoons doing some sort of electrocuted frog impression. I then realised that they were dancing. The local women were the ones to get things started, and I was looking forwards to dancing with the village beauty queen to the sound of panpipes, a ukelale and a bass drum, but I somehow found myself a target for a succession of toothless old crones who seemed to have taken a shine to me. At least they had good rythmn, I suppose. Slightly concerned by this, and the fact that I was starting to turn in to one of the grinning buffoons, I opted out after a while, and headed to the bar. Well, table with beer on. It was run by a pikey looking village elder with an ace leather cowboy hat on, and now, with my excuse for not dancing in my hands, I made my way outside to where a bonfire had been started, ignoring the seductive eye (singular, definitely in one case) of the gap toothed grannies of the community. I met up with a couple of English girls about the same age, and we lamented that the rave scene had gone downhill since the heyday oft the early nineties, although one Austrian appeared to have taken all the E's, and most of the other letters in the alphabet, too. Just as I was about to get a second beer in, Anselma came over, and a sudden cold shudder hit me as I thought I might have to make a tit of myself dancing again. No worries though, it was just to tell me and the French girl also staying at the house that it was time to go back.. ten o'clock curfew, ace!

The next day, I got up early, and walked to the top of the settlement, where I sat on a rock, and slowly watched the village come to life around me as the sun rose. It was quite peaceful sitting there, with wood smoke drifting across the valley, pairs of birds flitting around, and a tiny, young lamb following an ancient old man as he carried a bundle back to his house. Had breakfast of pancakes, and wandered back down to the docks. It was an hours boat journey to the island of Taquile, where we walked to the village at the top of the hill, with plenty of good views along the way. We had lunch just up from the main square, and had a look around some handicraft shops, but compared to the prices in Bolivia, they were far too expensive. Another walk back down to the southern port, and then a three hour boat trip back to Puno.

I met up with the two girls at night, and wanted to stay out for a few more drinks, but my fascist bully boy of a landlord wanted to close the hotel at 10.00 p.m. … Another curfew!! Still, it probably did me a favor, as I didn't spend the bus trip to Cusco the following day feeling like Inspector Gadget.
Monday 22 August sees me staying in hostel in Cusco which has a high comedy value but low quality rating. I haven't seen a place this ineptly run since Fawlty Towers, and the ongoing construction work is being undertaken by builders who clearly weren't related to the ancient Incan architects, but, at 20 soles a night, it's cheap!!

I'm almost lost for words (which is a first!!!) on how to describe it all, so I'll go for a few short sentences instead.
cloud mist drifting between the mountains.Lines of terraces. Two section, ceremonial on left and functional on right. Still possible to avoid the crowds on the right side. Sound of a river running below. Warmth of the sun. Small birds flying from rock to rock. Faces trapped in the surrounding mountains. The colour of some of the rocks with black stripes. The building in harmony with the landscape. A seat carved below an overhanging crag. Running water and fountains were important to the Incas. A mix of stonework styles from rustic to Imperial. Powerful, majestic.

Anyway, that about sums up six hours of wandering and sitting around the site. It's seeing things like this that make life so amazing, and that given even a thousand years, i still wouldn't have time to do and experience everything I would like. Just to sit down and appreciate places like Machu Picchu in a quiet, out of the way corner of the complex is something that would be harder to do with company, and I think that's why I prefer travelling alone.