TITICACA ROOF OF THE WORLD

Right, need to play catch up here. I am a long ways behind. Here I am in Quito, Equador, internet cafe, ABBA booming out in the background, riots in the streets, oh yes. A big protest in the town square here. Again riot police out in numbers. It seems a way of life down here in these democratic, para-military states. But everyone is able to have their say but the trouble is they all have varying opinions, same the world over. At least we have got used to it now, after some five weeks.

Now they tell me things are still bad with Columbia, talk of war. oh dear.

Still, onwards. Catch up.

Into Puno by train. Puno, there is no reason in the world to be here. It is an ugly town in a lovely setting and its main business seems to be to ferry people out to these islands which are offshore

reed islands. There may be up to a hundred of these islands, I will come back to them in detail later, they are lived on by native indians and the main reason for them to exist is the money earnt from tourist and the fact that the islands are regarded as temporary accomodation and as a result the indians have a tax break. As long as they are resident on the islands they pay no tax. A pin to burst my bubble!

The hotel is okay for the next two nights but is surrounded by high walls topped with a very efficient electric fence. I spoke with the security guy at the back gate, ´No, no problems here, its just to make the tourist feel safe,´ To keep them in rather than to keep the locals out.

On the second day we made a short walking trip down the railway line, two trains a day, to the local boat yard. In there they have an ex steam boat that was once a gunboat on the Lake and is now owned by an English woman who is undertaking a full restoration with the help of Captain Carlos ex Peruvian navy. A big task but it is coming on well, the boat looks good. On mentioning our naval connections we were given the red carpet treatment, piped down the gang plank. At least I think it was red carpet. Very sticky.

Following day a long drive round the lake shores. Pretty boring, the plain around the lake is all farmed, mostly spuds. Just farm after farm each with its blue ´thunderbox´ outhouse. This stops lake pollution and the earth closett remains are used on the farm. Not so good on the pollution front are the endless tin cans and plastic bottles that line the roadsides, block small streams and generally pile around the outside of towns and villages. Most Communes have a football stadium, basketball courts but no rubbish disposal system. Rubbish does not win votes. Still they are trying.

We approch a market town, we know this because we are being overtaken by minibuses, taxis, and on the roof racks are sheep goats pigs llamas chickens all held down by netting. Apparently they cannot afford trucks or trailors so they call a minibus, mum dad and kids inside, animals out. The market is very big and there are hundreds of minibus in today.

Cannot see it working at Ulverston somehow.

Cross the border into Bolivia, this is a bit like the old ´Check Point Charlie´in Berlin, loads of paperwork then a walk across no mans land ´to the second check point under the archway. The countryside is still much of the same, a little bit richer here. Well, only on the border where smuggling is rife. We were searched to see if we had any 13kg gas cylinders in our back packs. One navel officer, one customs officer, and one police officer. Why?´ we asked our guide. ´Well, to ensure each of the three services gets its fair share of the bribe!!´

Into Copacabanna, a pretty village situated on a lovely bay, this is not the Barry Manilow one, a quick spin round the very Moorish cathedral and into the Naval base to pick up our hydrofoil.

Lots of very new recruits in new uniforms lining up to learn to march, but a no photograph rule is strictly enforced, mainly I think because they were so so bad at marching. Just like ducklings, waddle waddle, lots of shouting but also laughter. They were happy.

Out onto the lake, whoosh. First visit, Isle of the Moon. This is where young virgins were brought to have their throats ritually cut in the name of the Inca Moon god.

Now, to ensure a good supply of perfect virgins only women were allowed to work on the island and to make sure no faulty goods slipped through the net the girls were brought here at the age of eight years, kept in a loose captivity until they were sixteen and then chopped!!!

Where were the parents in all this I do not know.

Whoosh, Island of the Sun next. This is where the gods come to to earth to meet the Incas. I could understand why they choose this spot, a very good lunch was waiting overlooking a perfect bay, peace perfect peace. Here our guide suggested a tip to the waitress out of all proportion to the normal. We left the normal having been told he had a thing about her!!!!!!!!!

Mmm, keep an eye on him.

Away again. The lake is lovely but no better than any other in the world other than the fact it is the highest. Yes, its big, but compared to Como or Garda, no, not as beautiful.

Onto our next stop, a floating reed island but this time run by a co-op of indians trying to preserve their dying language and life style. They have set up one island for visitors but live on others that are private to them. They are quiet, charming, no plastic toys for sale here just a demonstration of their life style.

One little girl latched onto Chrisitine, had to show her the bed in her hut, her table and chairs all family made. Demonstrations of local diets, mainly fish and a reed that provides a vitimin base. All our small group of English and Canadians were really moved by their sincerity and their welcome. A lovely innocence lets hope they hang on, I doubt it.

Boat and bus into Pa Paz via Alto Plano, the highest commercial airport in the world we are told, extra long runways because of the thin air some 4.500m up. The town is a victim of its runaway ecconomy and population, over a million people living in chaos.

On to La Paz. Now, imagine a vast endless plain and then across that plain a massive gash in the surface, then in that gash a massive city of millions is built, that is La Paz. The view from the bus down into this hole is terrific, strange almost the way the buildings go up to the very edge of the canyon but no further. But then delve down into the city, the infrastructure is really out paced by the human demands placed on it, one big road right down the middle then chaos off to both sides. On ocassions you cannot breath for the fumes from the buses and lorries you can even, see the fumes, its that bad yet you see stall holders sitting on the kerbside with babies laid beside them breathing in this acrid atmosphere.

Into this melee we go, people everywhere selling everything, but this is not a tourist city so we are not there targets. Into the hotel, lovely but we are not to go out after dark, its not safe.

Next day we hit the town, the witches market, dried, dead anything here, feotus of most animals, endless herbs to cure everything, this is Diagon Alley!! But cheek by jowl with the massive cathedral, all best of friends.

Downtown for coffee in a strange bar, great coffee and the background music is, for those with a long enough memory, the Mike Sam Singers, then, then, really, the Billy Cotton Band Show!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I could not believe my ears.

Out around town, not for tourist this place but fasinating just watching the endless crowds. School kids in very smart uniform, grey skirts, ties, boys grey flannels, all with shirts tucked in and ties done up. Education is important here. Kids conform or are out.

Into an indifferent bar for lunch, stand up to pay the bill and,,,,,,,,, BOOM.

A massive explosion, staff fly to the kitchen, clients under the tables, doors are blown open and I think the windows are coming in. What the......................

A hundred yards from here five years ago a fire fight was played out on the streets that left thirty dead, no wonder at the locals reactions.

Calm, staff re-appear. Its okay just demontrators, miners, along the road. They are setting off stun bombs, massive, you feel your eardrums are about to burst, but peaceful at the moment. We make our way out and the streets are filled with protestors, we head for the hotel, not being too happy with the situation. But school kids sit by the road side doing their homework by the street stalls owned by their parents so it cannot be too bad. One way the kids go home from school is to follow a slow moving bus up the very steep hills and running behind grab the bumper bar and have a running tow to the top, the down side is that they get smothered in diesel fumes.

But later the demos get out of hand, a member of congress is ´scragged´by the crowd and it becomes violent. I watch her on TV and in the end I felt she got what she deserved, very provocative.

The sirens again through the night. It seems a way of life here.

La Paz has nothing for the tourist and we are glad to fly out the next day. Ho ho ho!!!!!!!!!!

Up to Alto Plano, 5am, five hours later we find out our aircraft has broken down, no replacement, the city claws us back into it maw for another night. Oh so unhappy. Hours spent at the airport in contact with our tour company and we give them instructions for hotels etc.

The problem is we should be going to the Napo Wildlife Reserve in the Amazon tomorrow, that there are only two flights a week to Napo and we will have missed them So thats it. All the stress, anger yet again, but thats how this place works or rather doesn't work.

At nine the next morning we are told, along with the other 200 passengers, and this includes the flight crew, we have fifteen minutes to pack to get our flight, this is South America at it most efficient, eventually we make the flight out after more delays, then into Lima for an eight hour wait. Of course we have lost our earlier connections and as a result we have lost a four day trip down the Amazon by canoe to an eco centre, and here we are at Lima airport, ah bliss.

Eight hours at an airport, sketches.

Two nuns also from our flight, sleeping on a bench, the soles of their feet, not their souls, touching as they lay out flat, one blanket for both up to their knees and their head gear, I do not know the name, folded forward over their heads. As they softly breath the cloth over their faces rises and falls. Oh what peace.

The TACA staff who very rudely bounce a woman and male companion off the KLM flight to Schipol, she is dressed in furs, he quiet, she is very polite and they are rude, she breaks. Í am the wife of the Bolivian Ambassador in Paris and this is his aide´ I have never seen fear like it. The man next to me explains, Ín this country you do not do that and get away with it.´ Five minutes later the couple are being escorted away by a very worried man in a very smart suit. Gallows I reckon!

Samuari or Ninja Turtles? We see some six or seven motocycles outside, all red, two men on each, all dressed in black in a Samuari type uniform with no markings, carrying automatic rifles. Someones private army. Hmmm.

At last we fly out to Quito and leave Bolivis and Peru behind. Thoughts on the two, well I will lump them together. They will not appriciate that but...

No cars, or very few. Lots of very cheap cabs, buses, minibuses, few trains and flights expensive. Very few ever get to car ownership but perhaps with the cabs so cheap, pennies, they do not need them.

All over the economy and population outrun the infrastructure, if the roads etc are brought up to standard the over use and lack of repair soon pushes them back again. I never saw anyone looking underfed or without shoes. The poor are very poor but food is plentiful but life is hard at the bottom of the pile here and at the bottom of the pile is often the indian. Education does get them out and steps are being taken to push learning into all homes, grants etc to stop parents sending kids out to work too early.

The indians are sombre to start with but then can be smilely and helpful to an extreme but you can see why they just explode into protest sometimes.

This part of the tour has been an adventure. Beautiful, stressful, angry, heartbreaking, breathtaking, in particular the altitude sickness, all things in all ways.

I think we are going to have a mess to sort out when we get home.