The Long Journey Home...

On Monday morning, we woke up early to confirm all the details for our long journey home. The tourist office in Puno was very helpful! We confirmed flights, found shuttles, and got some directions for around town. We found out on our first day in Peru that the one agency we used to book a few flights and bus rides was not always that accurate (Go2Peru.com). We arrived at the airport two hours before our first flight only to find out that it didn't exist and the next flight was not for five more hours! Luckily the AeroCondor people were incredibly helpful and switched us to another airline... we ran through the airport to catch our flight, setting off metal detectors, paying airport taxes, and scrambling across the tarmac. This time we found out that our flight was two hours later than expected! So, we had a few extra hours in Puno to look around.

We were blessed with incredibly beautiful weather... perfect for photography. The clouds were amazing and left Cathy and I gazing up and tripping over our feet much of the time.



Both Cathy and I have dozens of pictures of this cathedral on the central plaza (Plaza de Armas). It had incredibly intricate baroque detail on the outside. Within was quite sparse. Several caretakers were sweeping the wooden floors and moving pews following Sundays services.


Cathy, of course, also made friends with everyone in the square and outside the cathedral.


From the cathedral, we made our way to an internet cafe, grabbed some yogurt for lunch, stopped in another plaza to eat, and then headed for the Artisan's market near the lake.


After finding a few last minute gifts, we headed out to the pier for a last look at the lake.


Our journey home was interesting... to say the least. We made our way by shuttle to Juliaca, a much more industrial city about 45 minutes from Puno, to the international airport. Along the way we befriended Tom, a young man from Canada is was cutting his two month journey about a month short due to illness. His girlfriend had already flown home after the first week in Peru. This was not a good omen... as the bus wound its way up the mountainside out of Puno, my altitude sickness changed into something entirely different. Some 24-hour flu was apparently going through the tourists in Puno and hit me just as we began this journey. Luckily I did make it to bathrooms when needed and was able to sleep for most of the flights.

Of course, when we arrived in Lima our flight to the states was delayed for two hours. Our 11:30 pm red-eye became an early morning flight. I believe Jim was the one detained by security on this leg of the flight. I just had to pay a small fee since I had neglected to save the small piece of paper that I received in customs on the way into the country. We did board the plane in plenty of time... plenty of time for an emergency medical landing in Ecuador. Just an hour or so outside of Lima a woman began having heart palpitations and panic attacks. She was forced to leave the plane in Ecuador. Since we landed heavy with most of our fuel, we our plane had to be inspected before we could take off again. An hour and a half later, we were finally in the air to Houston.

By this time, Cathy was beginning to feel sick. Luckily she would have a few seats to lie down on for the flight to Chicago. Before that flight, though, we had to make our way through customs again and this time I was pulled aside to have my bags checked. I had bought a bag of quinua at a market in Aguas Calientes. Quinua is apparently a legume and some type of superfood that is incredibly healthy, but difficult to get through customs. The TSA people were going to sift through it all (it looks like rice) to make sure that there were no seeds or bugs. Unfortunately our next flight (we had already been rebooked twice due to delays) was about to take off... so, leaving my quinua behind we made our way to our final uneventful flight to Chicago.

It has been difficult being home... so much to transition back into. It is very hard to focus. Plus, there is so much to process from the trip and so little time to do so. I would prefer vacations that were less of a whirlwind, that involved some type of educational component, that were a bit more grounded in the reality of the place where I am visiting. I have come to the conclusion, though, that if I were to wait for the perfect travel experience I would never end up going anywhere. A whirlwind week in Peru is better than never experiencing that beautiful and at all.

I believe that living globally is important for me... I will never be able to live as a global Christian with a theology that truly reflects global Christianity (even if it is just a dim reflection) without experiencing other cultures and other parts of the world. Granted, you don't need to travel around the world for such experiences. And there is always the inherent danger of traveling as a consumer rather than one who is there to learn and experience. Experience itself can become a commodity for consumption rather than an opening up of oneself for change. Yet, as a tactile learner, I find that traveling like this leaves an indelible mark on me. Somehow geography becomes real and tangible... not just geographic placement on a map, but the relationship of one country to another, the geographic history of time and place, the topography and how that impacts economies and cultures. All of that becomes more real and lives more deeply within me through these experiences. For me, these travels are a tremendous gift, both expanding my understanding of the world and recognizing the limits of my own place within it.

Lake Titicaca

The name sounds better if you pronounce it like the locals... think Hebrew with the "c" in the back of the throat.

We arrived in Puno and headed to our hostel, El Manzano (The Apple). It was a true hostel, versus the small hotels we were staying in before. Small rooms surrounding an open courtyard with an apple tree. The bathroom was down the hall with limited hot water... turns out a bit more limited than we expected which would have been all right had the weather been a bit warmer. Did I mention that I wore most of my clothes everyday during the trip? Sweaters, sweatshirts, jackets, t-shirts... layers and layers. Long underwear to bed under flannel pajamas. Few of the rooms had heat and the ice cold shower did not help at all!

But I digress... we headed to the main square for dinner and a little blogging then an early night. We had another early morning ahead of us. A boat ride on the Lake Titicaca... the sacred lake of the Inkas and the highest navigatable lake in the world. The boat made its way out into the reeds that filled one portion of the lake. Slowly we made our way down an open channel until we came upon a lagoon surrounded by a small village of floating islands.


The Uros Islands are literally built upon the reeds in the middle of the lake. Layer upon layer of reeds laying a foundation for a village of reed huts and watch towers.


The islands originally served as a hideout from the Inkan forces that were conquering the area surrounding the lake. Our guide was intentional about reminded us that the Inkans were not the only people or even the first people to inhabit Peru. There were others before them and those on the Uros Islands are remnants of these people.

We stepped off the boat onto the spongy surface of the island. The women were in beautifully colorful outfits and welcomed us with open arms.


We received a short lecture on the history of the island. During the presentation, one of the women came over and sat next to me and began sewing a beautiful tapestry. She was so incredibly friendly. Where do they get that? The ability to reach out over and over again to us tourists who make our way into their homes to gawk, take pictures, buy trinkets, and consume their lives? Where do they get that? But they did... they opened their hearts and their homes. They were beautiful in that way. A hospitality that I have never possessed. I realize it is not as simple as that. We provide money for their economy... they gain as well as give. Yet still... I can learn from them.

From this first island, we boarded a reed boat to sail across the lagoon to one more small village.


A group of women and girls sang to us as we left the island. I realize it was a complete tourist fabrication, but it seemed magical nonetheless and sometimes I think allowing yourself live in the magical moment is not such a bad thing.

From there we sailed out for another 90 minutes to Taquile Island. I didn't see much of the island. The altitude sickness nearly took me out as we climbed the steep rocky path to the plaza at the top of the island. But the views were incredible.


Beautiful archways marked the entrances to the plaza and the city. Some were topped with crosses. Others with various local symbols.


There was a small church. A cultural center with a photographic exhibit. An artisan's market. You'll have to check out Cathy's blog for more about all of that. I simply sat on the stone wall at the edge of the plaza, gazing out at the lake or watching the people in the square.


A lunch of typical Peruvian food at a small restaurant. And, of course, the hike back down the hill. I had a nice long talk with Alan, our tour guide. Cathy befriended a few more of the locals... and took lots of pictures. We climbed back on the boat for a long ride home. Tomorrow we would have a few hours to explore the city and then begin the long adventure home. And what an adventure it was!