But even before we could get to Lake Name That Cannot Not be Said Without Laughing Hysterically, we had to endure a bus ride that was part scenic, part “I think we are going to have to get out and push the bus out of the mud,” as the bus took over an hour to navigate its way out of dusty (now muddy) puddle-filled town that was a stop along the way. Successfully excavated, we found ourselves at a hotel that was olfactory challenged. Between the smell of stale cigarette smoke in one room, and the remnants of septic back-up in the other, we were fortunate that most of our time would be spent exploring the lake and its surroundings.
It wasn't only the name that got a rise out of the boys, and the rest of us. We were exposed to cultures and a lifestyle that you only see in National Geographic (no, not those kinds of pictures – though with a name like Titicaca, you’d think you’d see something like that). These were not reenactments like you might see at Colonial Williamsburg, but people actually living life without cars or in some cases, electricity or running water. On the floating (literally) islands of Uros, made of reeds and mud, families live as they did over one hundred years ago, as they fled to avoid paying taxes. Environmentally sensitive to their impact on the lake, they even take their bodily waste to the nearby city of Puno for disposal, this after traveling what I am sure is a tense, pressure packed five minutes boat ride to relieve themselves on a nearby island that serves as an outhouse. The boys did not need the pressure packed potty ride, but they did enjoy a boat ride to a nearby island for relief and refreshments.
What’s most interesting is what each of us gathers from our travels. For Greer, it was the scenic vistas that we enjoyed during our walks; for Grant, it was scaling the parallel bars (handrails) up a nearby mountain, for me, it was the rigors of the hiking, but for Garrett, who enjoyed and witnessed it all, if you ask him, it was the bus ride on the Cruz del Sur. After months of traveling on buses through the countryside of South America, we opted for a luxury liner bus – fully reclining seats, on board food service, family friendly movies, and…INTERNET – it was an 11-year-old’s version of traveling first class. When he was given a home schooling project to chronicle the best of his trip to Peru, it wasn’t Machu Picchu, or Lake Titicaca that topped his list, but the bus ride on Cruz del Sur. For me, it was worth the premium price we paid to know he got so much joy and pleasure from it.
Yet, in spite of our second chance to see Lake Titicaca, we were some how handcuffed in our attempt to visit Colca Canyon, the world’s deepest canyon. Much like our inability to see Lake Titicaca on our first Peru trip, time, distance, and money made Colca Canyon problematic this time around. I think this means that another trip to Peru is in the cards.
One thing that has been revealing here is seeing how each of us enjoys different parts of our travel. It has also been a unique experience to see our children enter into adolescence and adulthood uninhibited by the pressures and influences of American teen/tween culture. And while they may not appreciate that as much as their parents do, how many of their friends will be able to say they spent a whole day on the titty side of a lake, thumbing their noses at the caca side?