On the road from Arequipa, passing through dry pebble-strewn mountains up up up to the altiplano, frequented by llama herds and young shepherds in knit caps, with craggy mountains peeking up and the occasional lake.   Houses here are built out of local mud bricks, and walls of stones perched one on top of the other crisscross the hills and plains.

Puno is a city wedged into the hills where women in heavy skirts, sandals, and bowler hats carry babies in colorful blankets on their backs, and triciclo (tricycle) taxis roam the streets and provide an exhilarating if somewhat dangerous ride down to the lake... azule Lake Titikaka is the highest lake of its size in the world and truly deserving of superlative statistics!

After some serious coca leaf chewing and tea brewing to help with the altitude, we visited the ancient (ie. the first ones were built 9,000 years ago) funerary towers at nearby Sullistani and just sidestepped an impending rainstorm.  The rolling hills and farmsteads on the road there were picturesque in an Ireland-meets-South America sort of way.

The following day we hopped on a steamer to visit some of the island cultures on the lake.  The first stop were the floating reed islands where the Uros people have lived for centuries, constructing islands, homes, boats, and more out of the tortora reeds that grow in the lake.

But our favorite part of the week was sailing three hours more out into the lake, where on Taquile Island residents continue their traditional way of life (while allowing tourists to observe).   The men here wear different beautifully hand-woven hats depending on their marital status, and everywhere you look terraced pastures, farmhouses tucked into the hills, and sweeping vistas of the lake greet you and pretty much take your breath away.   Excuse the inadequacy of the images here presented…

Little girls here can knit and weave better than I ever will… and possibly were the ones to make some of the gorgeous bracelets I bought.  I know, I went a little overboard, they're not all for me!

On the way back I had a beautiful afternoon of reading Pablo Neruda's poetry (including Las Alturas de Machu Picchu, getting ready for next week), as the waves beat on the little steamer and new international friends gossiped up above in the strong sunshine.