For some reason, this bus ride was one of the worst yet.
I passed the first couple of hours reading Pride and Prejudice, then the sun went down and I was subjected to failed attempts at sleeping while the same 100 songs that I'd been listening to for the past three weeks played over and over in my ears.
Finally, around 11:00pm, our bus arrived and we took a cab to the center of town where we were navigated the streets filled with the residual crowds from Carnival (a festival that occurs throughout the month of February in Peru) wandering drunkenly around us.
After a bit of a wild goose chase, we found a hostel, asked the appropriate questions about Lake Titicaca tours, and promptly fell asleep.
We woke up early the next morning, ate breakfast and left for our two day tour of the lake.
This particular tour was advertised as the most cost-effective and all-inclusive option.
We would visit the floating islands, ride in the boats made of reeds, stay with a family from a local community who would take us to a celebration in order to immerse us in their culture, and we would explore some of the different areas of the lake.
Sounds like a pretty great experience, right?
The truth is, I had mixed feelings.
Lake Titicaca itself?
Hands down, one of the most amazing places I have ever been.
At 12,555 ft, it is the largest navigable lake in the world.
Its vastness is truly humbling.
On the first evening of the tour, we climbed up to el Templo de Pachatata to watch the sunset.
When we reached the temple, high on a hill, I sat and simply stared at the massive body of still water in front of me. With misty mountains, seemingly, rising from its depths at various visual intervals.
However, in regard to the cultural aspect of the tour, I was not as impressed as I had thought I would be.
The floating islands are amazing.
And it was definitely very interesting to learn about the cultures of the people that live on the various islands of the lake.
However, it felt a little bit like the tour was exploiting these cultures.
Even stranger, it felt as though these communities were embracing and taking advantage of this exploitation.
When the tour advertised that we would be staying with a local family, I was quite excited. However, it turned out that staying with a local family meant... just that. Sleeping in their house. There was little to no interaction between our hosts and us.
We ate in separate rooms and slept in separate rooms, if we asked them any questions, they would answer, but were not inclined to further engage themselves in our conversations.
Furthermore, the women, who spend much of their time, hand-knitting sweaters, hats, and scarves and crocheting little toys, all to sell at local markets, were very shameless in their attempts to sell their wares.
At first, it is easy to feel sorry for them.
Their communities probably don't have a lot of money, you should support their local economy, etc.
Sure, I'm all about it.
However, when I feel like their is a distinct expectation that each and every tourist is going to purchase an over-priced item of clothing, I begin to feel slightly uncomfortable. Not only did I get the impression of their self-exploitation but there was also an element of exploitation in regard to the tourists that are being passively pressured into buying these goods.
And when you think about it, if these families have tourists coming to stay with them five out of seven nights of the week, with each individual paying the Peruvian equivalent of $35. These communities are probably actually making quite a lot of money.
Lastly, I think the thing that made us all the most uncomfortable was the local celebration.
We were all expected to dress in traditional garb and go to what I can only explain as the equivalent of a rec-center to listen to the music of their people and dance with our various host families.
As a foreigner, wearing their traditional clothing while knowing so little about their culture, I felt very out of place and uncomfortable.
Maybe I am analyzing it too much.
The tourism industry is probably a very lucrative way for these communities to make money in order to sustain the lifestyles specific to each culture.
I guess my problem was that I felt that that was exactly how it was treated.
A way to make money.
They did the bare minimum in order to "meet" the expectations of the tourists and the administrators of the tour companies, whether or not they particularly cared about sharing their culture with foreigners.
But I guess that's life, no matter where you are in the world -
Do what you have to do to make money in order to sustain your desired quality of life.
Anyway, that was a bit rant-y and I apologize.
Just food for thought, I suppose.
On to Cuzco!
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