Lake Titicaca

Sunday, September 20, 2009
June 16-23

Lake Titicaca was amazing. The town of Puno sits right on the banks. As we gazed over the lake we couldn’t help but wonder if we were actually looking out over the ocean. Barely visible in the distance were the Bolivian Andes. The snow capped peaks were not much higher than we were as the lake is at almost 13,000 feet.

The hotel was cold with no hot water. The town was beautiful with a lovely park and a great produce market. We wandered around there shopping for items to give to our “families”. We even got to ride in one of the little motorcycle taxis! We dined at a nice restaurant and were treated to fantastic music and dancing by a local troupe. We bought a CD, but it’s not quite the same.

The next day we embarked upon our lake voyage. Our first stop was the floating islands. These man-made reed piles are anchored to the bottom so as not to drift, but are comprised of reeds stacked upon themselves. The original settlers built them to avoid the Spanish. Now they exist mostly as a tourist draw. We were shown how the islands are made and then invited to purchase some of their textiles. We even got to ride one of their straw boats!

Next stop was over an hour away. It was a much bigger island with several thousand inhabitants. This is where we were to stay for the night. We were introduced to our host, Ambrosio, who led us up the hill to his house. It was quite challenging to walk there as the altitude makes it hard to breathe. Ambrosio’s house was rather large so each family got their own room. C, Z, and I shared a space the size of a small hotel room on the top floor of the domicile. For meals, we gathered around the kitchen table and were fed potatoes, quinoa, and rice. There was Coca tea to drink. Mom sat on the hearth while dad sat with us at the table. There was way more food than we could possibly eat so we asked them to cut the portion sizes for the next meal.

We hiked to the top of the hill wearing the hats that Ambrosio’s daughter had made. When evening came, we were dressed in traditional clothing and taken to a dance. We danced until Zman fell asleep and then we went home to crash. It was an exhausting day; moving around at 13,000 feet really takes a lot out of you.

We climbed aboard our boat again the next morning to go to another island. Here we climbed to a village, ate lunch, explored the artisan market, and checked out an ancient religious site that had been converted to Christianity. Afterwards we hiked back down to the harbor, climbed on the boat and headed back to Puno.

We knew something was off when the boat sputtered to a stop and the pilot started yelling to a fellow on the beach. About an hour into the two hour ride, the boat stopped for good. Our young captain tried in vain to fix the problem while our tour guide provided no details whatsoever. The folks in the back tried to flag down others to come to our aid, as we had no radio. Every boat that slowed, sped up again and raced off without helping. We drifted for about thirty minutes before another boat pulled up along side. The captain of that vessel came aboard with tools and fixed us up. We blazed off to Puno and happily set foot on land.

Peru is an amazing place. There is so much beauty and the people are wonderful. Life is fairly peaceful, the food is fantastic, and the pace is easy. We would travel there again in a heartbeat.

MJR

The Tears of a Child

Sunday, September 13, 2009

I am going to forgo the narrative of our trip to Peru for now. It has been a challenging week.

I have been having some difficulty with several of my students since the beginning of the year. Although school policy is that students will speak English at all times, I have been challenged to make this a reality in my classroom. There are four boys in particular who seem to be immune to the rules. They are very bright, but mischief makers (much like myself at the same age).

I have been working on ways to encourage them to do the right thing. Wednesday night I didn’t sleep very well for thinking of incentives for them. I was tired on Thursday morning when I went to work, but thought I had come across some ways to make it all work. When we got to work, I was greeted with the news that the father of one of my students died in a motorcycle crash the night before. He was forty-one.

Suddenly everything on my mind became infinitesimally small. The student (I’ll call her Julie) is a beautiful little girl; extremely bright, always cheerful, and eager to please. I had her sister in my class two years ago. The mom was my room mother and we have always had a good relationship. I knew dad by his first name. I had, in fact, had a few drinks with him on occasion.

Thursday took on a whole new twist. I had to figure out how to work with my kids to come to an understanding of these events. I was struggling with this puzzle when Julie showed up for class. She was in tears as were many of my students. Suddenly I had to confront even more issues. We cried together for about an hour, then I read a story. We played some games, sang some songs, and watched a movie (complete with popcorn!). Julie kept her composure for the most part, which is more than I can say for myself.

I made it through the day and ventured off to the Wake. Friday Julie was back with a smile and I attempted some normality. Now I am left with an eight year old who has lost her father. As the year progresses, I am sure there will be a great deal of tears. As a general rule, I don’t deal well with tears; mine or anyone else’s. I guess this will be a lesson for both of us.

I can’t help but feel parallels to past events in my life. Today I am on the other end of lost parents, wondering how to comfort a small girl when I find it so difficult to find comfort in myself.

MJR