We got up at about seven, having been blessed with what I considered our best night of sleep on the trip so far. Ice had formed on the jug of water outside of the kitchen as we sat inside and ate Florenzia's pancakes. Soon after, she took us down to the boat and we parted ways.
We took an hour rideto the island of Tequile, during which many of our tour mates remarked on my being "Mr Popular" and "the belle of the ball." On Tequile, we were marched up to the main town where we were enjoined to buy the famous woven wares (which neither Andrew nor I did...no one's gonna tell me when to spend money) and then sat down to eat at a restaurant, while a local boy sang Beatles' songs in the local dialect in an effort to get us to help him pay his way through college.
All of that was all well and good, but I was looking forward to my dip in the lake. Michael, an Oregonian bow hunter, and I had been talking about taking a swim since the day before. Fortunately, the hike back down to the boat after the meal took up the thirty minutes that mothers insist children should wait to swim after eating, and I changed into my swimsuit in the outhouse by the moored boat.
I have to admit that I was concerned about the cold, especially after Almogenes, the guide, warned us that the lake was 10 degrees Celsius. Fifty degree water, for those that don't know, is very cold. So cold that there's a risk of immediate cramping, or of gasping when you hit the water and thus drowning. While the possibility of either of those things happening were not likely, it still gave me pause. Nonetheless, I was going in; after all, being able to say that I swam Lake Titikaka (in winter) was well worth the risk, and I'd already told the group I was going to, so there was no backing down.
Michael and I climbed up to the top deck of the boat, about ten feet above the water, stepped over the railing and held on to it as we prepared ourselves. Michael had had a bad experience jumping into Crater Lake before, so he made sure to throw a couple of life preservers into the water in case we cramped. I just focused on how crystal clear, yet deep blue the water was.
We agreed to jump to the count of three and a yelled, "Lake Titikaka!" as our fellow tour mates lined up along the side of the boat with their cameras. Upon our bellowing, we both lept; Michael swan- dove; I, appropriately for a former Artilleryman, did a cannonball. I had threatened to soak the boat but ultimately I was kind and did not.
Great Googly- Moogly! That water was cold! I surfaced, grabbed my life preserver, and booked it as quickly as I could over to the take out point forty feet away. Unlike Michael I did not take the opportunity to have a leisure swim.
After all of that, we headed back into Puno. Andrew and I were thrilled to discover that we had a nice hotel (for there...it was about like a motel 8 in the states) and that we had a real shower with real hot water (not the deadly showerhead like everywhere else). We met up with the group at a bar/ restaurant where we proceeded to tie one on. After that we went over to a bar that claimed "This is the best pub on town with the best music in the planet." I will not relate the myriad events that occured therein, but shall simply say that when we stumbled out of the bar at 2am, the town was dead. We were kings of Puno. As Andrew later said, "That night might be the hardest I've ever partied on a Monday."
We got a nice power nap before we got to the bus station this morning. The bus ride was different, though equally as miserable, as the first one, as we were severely hung over (or still drunk, at first... we couldn't quite tell), sporadic blasts of Peruvian pop melted our heads, and the smell of all of us baking in the bus helped add to our nausea. We poured ourselves off the bus here in Cusco, thankful that Titikaka was well behind us. We're ready to get home.
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