Blog Post #12 Lake Titicaca—Homestay on Amantani Island

Following our visit to the Uros people living on the floating islands, we made our way to Amantani Island, one of rock and harsh living conditions. The island is named from Kantuta, the country’s national flower, which grows in abundance there.   

Victoria and Florentino

Victoria and her three guests. Yes, we're all standing on the same flat surface.

Several of the locals, who were waiting to take us back to their family homes, greeted us at the dock. A couple from Holland and I were paired off with our host and “mama” for the next 24 hours, Victoria, 73. Following Victoria (who could not be more than 4’ 6”) who bounded up the steep slope without effort, I huffed and puffed my way up in the 12,500 feet altitude to the family home. Victoria introduced us to her husband, Florentino, 78, who showed us to our rooms for the night.

Bedroom area

The house is really a little compound. The bedrooms are set off to one side in a U shaped design, up on the second floor where bougainvillea hung from the wrap-around balcony. My room was primitive, with no heat, but plenty of blankets kept me warm that night. The kitchen and dining room are housed in a second building about 25 feet away from the bedroom building, and in between is the bathroom building. That consists of a porcelain toilet and sink, but no running water. To flush, I used a bucket of water from the spigot just outside the toilet room.

Kitchen and dining room

Florentino served us a lunch of Victoria’s homemade quinoa soup to which she’d added potatoes and other vegetables they had grown. All the inhabitants of this island are vegetarians. They raise sheep and alpacas, the only four legged animals on the island, for their wool only. They are expert weavers. I’m told they do slaughter and eat the meat from animals a few times a year on festival occasions. Mostly, they work the terraced hillsides by hand, growing crops such as wheat, quinoa, potatoes, and other vegetables.  

Locals are constantly spinning or knitting, even while they are walking.

There are no roads, motor vehicles, wifi, or other such things. Electricity is minimal. The few hundred indigenous families all speak the Quecha language, which rendered even my rudimentary Spanish meaningless. The island has two mountain peaks, Pachatata (father earth) and Pachamama (mother earth), with ancient Inca and Tiwanaku ruins on top of both. Several of our larger group climbed to the top of Pachatata, but, having some problems with the altitude, I chose to stay behind in the village square.

That night the locals held a dance party for us. They dressed us up in local costumes and taught the local steps.  My altitude sickness symptoms kept me away from the celebration, but after a good and long sleep that night I was in much better shape the next morning.

After breakfast of a type of pancakes, we said our goodbyes and took a boat ride to Taquile Island, another place populated with yet another group of indigenous people, the Taquilenos, who also speak Quechua. They produce fine handwoven textiles and clothing which are regarded as among the highest quality handicrafts in the country. The culture calls for only men, beginning at age 8, to do all the knitting, while the women do the dying and spinning of the wool into yarn.

His sash says he's married. Note the coca pouch hanging on his right side. 

Perhaps most interesting are the colorful clothes they wear. To the point of obsession to the sensibilities to this westerner, marital status is all important and is openly reflected in the outfits they wear. The belt sash worn by every person, young and old, male and female, denotes marital status or availability for marital status. Custom dictates that availability begins at age 18. Everyone is expected to get married and once they are, there is no such thing as divorce. Courtship is usually 18-24 months long and once married there is a trial period during which one or the other can walk away from the relationship if things are not working out. Otherwise, the marriage lasts a lifetime.

Both men and women chew coca leaves (as did I) much like people might chew tobacco. The juice produced is swallowed for medicinal purposes—the active ingredients help in adjusting to high altitudes. Part of the male costume includes a waist-side pouch filled with coca leaves. They do not shake hands with one another. Instead they each take some coca leaves from their pouches and exchange them with one another.