Special for you! Tourism in Peru at its best...

Ciao mi amigos! It is a beautiful morning here in Puno, overlooking Lake Titicaca. It´s been a while since I last wrote, so I must fill you in on the dazzling details. First off, the day before we left Ica, the dazzling oasis where we went sandboarding on spectacular hundreds of feet high dunes, I decided I wanted ceviche again. Now, we were still close enough to the ocean where ceviche was offered at every single tourist eatery in the area. Thus, I did no rationalizing, I just wanted my nearly raw delicious fish I had so enjoyed in Lima only days before! So I order some at a restaurant right on the water that, as Katie and I realized as we began eating our food, meant you pay for the scenery more than a delicious dish. The ceviche was a little more rubbery, but still good enough and these people don´t do the whole returning dishes for something else, and hey, I paid for it, so I ate it like a good little tourist. Now, perhaps we shouldn´t cut to me 24 hours later, keeled over in the bathroom for the entire night before a 9-hour bus ride to Arequipa. I could not keep a single thing down. This is the second time I´ve had major food poisoning in the past three months, the first time was a bit after we returned from Costa Rica, so I´m officially at the point where not only karma, but all of Latin America, is out to get me.

Now, although I am weak, I do not want to miss a single beat, because I am here to do my touristy duties! So I decide that because I am able to leave the bathroom for more than an hour at a time, this makes me fit for good tourism. We go to see Juanita the morning after we arrive in Arequipa. What a wonder she is! 500 years old and she does not look a day over twelve, that little Incan sacrifice. She is still swaddled in the same clothes they buried her on the mountain in, and she´s tucked into a fetal position in her refrigerated home. Her skin, especially her hands, are amazing to look at because they aren´t aged much at all and still bear her skin color and wrinkles. Then, I decided to go see this convent that housed a bunch of rich nuns back in the 17th century, aaaaand, it was boring. There are still current nuns there, which, although I know it´s strange, I always sort of get excited when I see a nun. It´s not an everyday occurrence in Arizona, so they´re fun to stare at. So I thought yay! I get to see where they live! We get it, you have the same sort of living quarters with a very basic bed, a chamber pot, and a little kitchen with a kettle and a hearth. More than I had at the farm, eh nuns? Just kidding, but in all seriousness, I guess as much as I like to pretend I am mature enough to see things like old convents and appreciate them, I´m not. The architecture wasn´t exciting enough to make up for it. I also didn´t see any current nuns. Disappointing. But good on them for doing the whole bit!

So, then I realized I had done far too much walking and was still quite sick, so I took the next day off while Katrina went water rafting. Well isn´t it my lucky darn day that when she returns, she tells me that she just happened to be put in a boat with an entire fleet of Spanish firemen on vacation. Wasn´t that just an extra punch in the gut? No offense to the Peruvian men, but the looks of the locals are none too plentiful. The next day, afraid to miss another tour but still having minor issues, I decide to go to Colca Canyon. This was spectacular, long bus ride, you´ll see pictures. It´s not the Grand Canyon--we went up really high, like, 13,000 feet, saw some condors, alpacas and llamas.

Now, I had inquired earlier about a hospital in Arequipa just in case, but because I thought I was able to complete all of these touristy things, I was certainly getting better right? Off to Puno we go.

First night in Puno? The food poisoning came back full force. The amazingly kind man who manages the hostel I´m staying at made me tea and called hospitals in the middle of the night for me. The doctor came and took me to get an IV for fluids and antibiotics because the food poisoning was throughout my entire intestines, and I could feel those bacteria like a little sea monster in there, stirring up trouble in the bowels of my ship... Sorry, I went there. So I was forced to not go sight seeing that day and given warnings of certain parts of excursions on the islands in Lake Titicaca because of my weakness and the altitude, along with about 7 different types of medicine. Now, a note about clinicas in smaller cities--this one was more like a home. It had two beds in a carpeted room, with a TV with cable. If there had been no TV with cable, I may have not been distracted enough to notice the lake of scrubs or sterile anything. I just said a little prayer about not getting a staph infection, and didn´t even freak out when the nurse, Nelly, missed my vein the first time and just needed one more do-over. When I told them I was hungry, a good sign, they handed me a food menu from the restaurant next door that they also must own. I explained I wasn´t quite ready for the typical Peruvian dish, thank you, do you have some toast?

The next day, I keep on trucking as usual. The antibiotics are working slowly, but food is started to hurt my system less and less. We head to the islands. First, there´s the floating islands of Uros, where there´s 60 of different names, where they live on islands made of reeds as their people have for hundreds of years. Yes, incest was a problem, yes they are taking care of that-- they are only about 5 feet tall on average for the women, and men aren´t much taller than they are. Yes, they have an island for peeing, and an island for pooping. Do they always make it to those islands? No. I saw a little girl hike up her skirt, go number one where she was playing with others, then pretty much sit back down in the same spot. Reeds are very absorbant, I hope. All Western judgment aside, it was still neat to see that such indigenous culture is still carrying on. On our way to the island of Amantani, where we would meet the host family that we stay overnight with, the view is spectacular. Because we are so high, 12,500 feet, the clouds are low and especially puffy and reflect on the water. It´s such an amazing view that I can imagine a spot in heaven looking the exact same way. Now, we get to the island and meet Nicolas, our host dad. He takes us up the 300 meters (you know, the ones my doctor told me NOT to climb) to his home with no electricity, running water, and four adorable little girls and a killer cook of a wife. These people need the extra money, so they give up the little extra room they have, sleep altogether in one room once a week, so that they can house a funny tourist or two and hope that we give an extra gift or tip at the end. Now, I explain that he has four little girls. Aaaand we all know I am a sucker. I end up showing them every video I´ve taken on my Flip, giving two of them bracelets from my arm, and then going and buying them crackers and cookies in the evening. Not to mention that I was their personal donkey for a good deal of time as well. Toys aren´t very common there, but tourists are. After dinner, the mom, Viviana, dresses Katrina and I up in the traditional garb. Again, I will post pictures. You know, they´re just not so becoming on a 5`6" lady like myself. We go to a traditional dance where I last about 20 minutes, and request to go home to bed. Nicolas didn´t seem to mind. Although the tourists more than twice my age jabbed me about it the next morning. That night though, you could see every star in the southern hemisphere because of the lack of electricity on this island in the middle of the lake. There were shooting stars, and off in the distance, there were great lightning storms that we just stood and watched for a while. You couldn´t ask for more beauty.

The next day we went to another island, ate lunch, and headed back off to Puno. The boat broke down two times on our way back. Black smoke, rocking boat, water level hitting the railing next to the window-- you know, call me high maintenance, but I was not on board for this. I asked the tour guide what the problem was and voiced my being a bit scared, where his response was, "Why? The worst that can happen is you die. We all have to die sometime," with a little smile on his face. Hmm, I´m learning that the tourist industry here is not too sensitive and seemingly out to exploit you as much as you are out to exploit the cheap exchange rate. "Special for you," means, "More expensive because you´re a tourist," and if you´re given a deal, don´t worry, you will be charged for it later on in some way. There is a 50% poverty rate, and there are children in the streets begging or doing circus acts at the street lights, and it´s tough to balance out the point between having compassion or being taken advantage of.

So, on a final note, we are off to Cusco today. The antibiotics are continuing to work, and I am better and stronger every day. Inca trail is only a week away, folks! Wish me luck.

Kali