Adventure of the month

Following our brief love affair with Bolivia, we somewhat reluctantly returned across the border (where we were greeted by a generous sized can of Cuzqueno beer)to Puno , Peru. Since I was finally getting acclimatized to the altitude, it was time to explore what Puno had to offer. We had gotten back to town too late to join an organized tour to the pre-Inca burial site known as Sillustani, but with the help of the friendly folks at the Arequipa Hotel, we were able to get a driver to take us out there. The reason to visit Sillustani is to see its beautifully constructed burial towers, or chullpas , which were built by the Colla people to house the mummified remains of noble families. The towers, many of which are still in excellent condition, are graced with the dramatic backdrop of Lake Umayo. Fortunately for us, there were just enough tour groups present so that we could eavesdrop and learn about the history and symbolism of the chullpas, y...

A couple of things happened on June 2nd. The more relevant to a travel blog is that we crossed the border into country #64, Bolivia. The less relevant, I was celebrating my 40th birthday at the time. Due to both these momentous occasions occurring simultaneously, I am not sure whether I should thank the birthday fairies or the travel gods, but whatever force brought us to Copacabana, Bolivia has my fullest appreciation. I had read that Copacabana, which sits on the opposite side of Lake Titicaca was a laid back, hippie town, but I had not dreamt that it was this laid back or this hippie-ish. As soon as we got off the bus, we spotted hacky sacks flying, tattooed jewelry vendors on every street corner and more vegetarian restaurants than I had ever seen in any one place. And all of it was crazy cheap!! The hotel room pictured above, the one with the fantastic view of the lake, was a birthday splurge. T...

Just thought that I would take a short break from all the Peru postings to add some photos from my latest outing. Earlier this week, I had a chance to spend a day in Venice, a city that even in the middle of a thunderstorm manages to be indescribably beautiful (not that I actually have any photos from the thunderstorm as I was too busy sipping red wine and rhapsodizing about Venice's beauty in the rain to actually, you know, capture it). Now, back to Peru...

From Arequipa and its majestic volcanic views it was on to Puno, the set off point for the breathtaking, and in my juvenile opinion, hilariously named Lake Titicaca. No one can deny the lake's beauty, yet that is not what I mean when I refer to it as 'breathtaking'. I mean that I truly could not breathe. The lake sits at an elevation of 12,500 feet, making it the highest navigable lake in the world and an instant lesson in the effects of altitude sickness. To give an example of how high it really is, I remember years back, I went skydiving in the Keys and the highest altitude I could jump from without the aid of an oxygen tank was 10,000 feet, and now here I was 2,500 feet higher and tankless! I tried all the suggested remedies (chewing coca leaves, drinking coca tea, eating coca candy...see a pattern?), yet just climbing one flight of stairs was enough to leave me panting like an emphysemic St. Bernard. It was pr...

A long time ago, I read a book entitled Prague about a group of travellers that hit upon an observation that I am being constantly reminded of. One of the characters pointed out (and I am beyond paraphrasing here) that anywhere that tourists gather, you are sure to find two things: a Peruvian flute band and a person whose sole talent in life is painting themselves a metallic color and standing very, very still. I can vouch for this as fact. Yet, I had not given any thought to whether or not this truism would hold true in Peru. I should have, considering that we could have been inundated with Peruvian flute bands, dropping our very last sole into someone's empty guitar case. Turns out that there was no reason for concern. We spent a week trying in vain to find some live music before we hit upon the realization that not only were there no Peruvian flute bands, there were no musicians left in Peru. They must have all been exported to the plazas, parks and subway stations of every o...