Bluer than blue (Puno)

I woke up in a reclined armchair as we rolled down the pre-morning streets of Puno. We had driven through the night, finally coming down the hill to Lake Titicaca. Our hostel owner didn't have our room ready, but he offered us a spot to crash on the couch, a rather good breakfast, and a place on a tour that left at 8am.  We piled on all the warm cloths we had and sleepily walked  down the quay to the waiting lines of boats. Pulling out of the marina, we cut slowly into the bay.

Our first glimpse of the floating islands

The first stop was at one of the Uros floating islands. The islanders have lived for thousands of years on these structures made of blocks of reed root covered in reed bundles and topped by reed houses. Most of the men and boys were out fishing and harvesting reeds with long, scythe-like poles. The elected "mayor" of the island greeted us with the women and girls, who showed off their embroidery and method of island building.

After a ride  on  a long, low reed boat we re-boarded our motorboat and went to the long rocky island of Taquile. Here, the men wear black pants with billowing white shirts and black vests in the Spanish colonial style. These are belted with colourful woven sashes and "Inca" hats with patterns that indicate status. A bag of cocoa leaves is tucked into the sash. The leaves are traded with friends as a  form of greeting when they meet on the paths. The women wear tasseled shawls, colourful for the girls and black with bright tasseled for the married women.

Hiking up the island.
It was so cold, I wore  a touque I had bought as a gift!

Both the men and women of Taquile weave and knit. A market in the main  square  sells their wares. 

We broke for lunch at a house on  the south end of the island. Our view extended over the huge lake, south  towards the high  mountains of Bolivia. We were served a delicious quinoa soup and a trout or tortilla  (omlette) on rice. 

Bolivia's Cordierra Real mountains on  the horizon.
They are over 20,000 ft  tall

Our companions came from Slovakia, Germany, South  Africa, and Catalunia

Quinoa soup

We finally re-boarded our boat and bucked a rough  headwind on  a zig-zagging course  back to Puno. Several of us sat on the deck, trading travel stories  and  discussing Basque/Catalunian/Spanish politics. Those of us who  were staying at the same hostel resolved to meet for dinner, where we  enjoyed another few hours of conversation (with the obligatory questions  about why Americans love guns) and delicious  Alpaca and Cuy.