DAY 10 TUES. OCT. 9 PUNO AREA

A magical day in brilliant sunshine. We took bicycle taxis to the waterfront to catch a ferry in Puno harbour. The taxi bicyclists were athletic young guys who clearly enjoyed the downhill ride almost as much as we did. Naturally, we turned the trip into a race, with no clear winner.

The ferry transported us to a place that has lived in my imagination for years, since reading about it in National Geographic as a kid: the floating islands of Los Uros, an indiginous nation. We were greeted warmly and told how, for centuries, these people have lived on islands constructed out of the reeds which grow so plentifully on Lake Titicaca. The people have learned to adapt successfully to this life-style, using sustainable resources to survive. It was strange to walk on these islands, which have a slightly spongey and waterbed-like quality to them. The only nods to the modern world were solar panels and motorboats. We were introduced to a local woman named Margarita and her husband Jesus and were taken to their home where we posed for pictures before viewing the weavings and handicrafts she had made. Touristy? Yeah, probably, but we couldn't resist and bought a nice tapestry for a wall hanging. How authentic this all is is up to discussion. Certainly, to have so many artificial islands with cabins, a school, docks and boats just for tourists to view seems a bit much. We came away thinking that this was indeed a real place, but the locals have embraced the tourism possibilities quite well.

We then visited a school where a lovely young Uro woman, Amalia, held court. She made it out to university, but then came back to her home to help the local kids as a teacher. She's worked for free for three years, but now the Peruvian government has agreed to fund her school and pay her a salary. The kids were small and put on a nice display of singing and play for us. We entered the school and found it to be fairly well supplied and typically chaotic for a class of 5 year olds. We enjoyed the visit very much.

The bicycle taxi ride back to the hotel proved to be more of a task for our peddlers. Our poor guy fell behind the others and really had a hard time of it going uphill. Is there a message here for Lou and me? I'm hitting the pool and gym when I get home !!

In the afternoon, we visited a site on the far end of the lake where several pre-Inca and Inca tower tombs exist. A strenuous climb took us to the top of a cliff where a dozen or so tombs stood. Once again, mankind's need to make sense out of death came home to me. No matter the time period, no matter the location, no matter the people, we all need to try to make sense out of our common mortality and to somehow memorialize our departed. The fact that these tombs still stand after many centuries tells me that we, as a species, will always do this unless we learn to somehow conquer death itself. And that's not happening any time soon.

Our evening meal back in Puno featured a local delicacy: cuy, or deep fried guinea pig. We got to sample some as an appetizer: well, some of us, the braver and more adventurous ones, did. I jumped at the chance and found it flavourful and slightly boney. The taste? Most compare it to chicken. Me? I think I'd say it resembled groundhog. But one thing was for sure. As I looked down on the poor little critter, my earlier musings about mortality came back to me and I began to philosophize about ... ah hell, who am I kidding? He tasted good !!