It is late August of 1973 and we have enjoyed a 5 night stay in Cusco. We take an early morning train from Cusco to Puno crossing a high plateau of the Andes; part of the trip is very interesting, but much of the countryside is bleak and brown and as dull as North Dakota. At least there are interesting people to talk to, from both Europe and the U.S.
It is a long hard day; arriving in Puno after dark we rush through customs and then board the old steamship for an overnight trip across Lake Titicaca. The ship, we heard, was built elsewhere before 1900, disassembled, then reassembled on the lake. It is very ancient and not the least bit comfortable. We do have a stateroom, all don’t. There are 3 bunks, and they try to put a third person in the room, but we won’t let them. The only toilet is stinking, and is down two decks.
We manage to survive, and reach the south end of the lake in the morning. After more customs on the boat, we board a one car train for the trip into La Paz. Everything is at a high elevation here; Lake Titicaca is at 12,506 ft., El Alto airport is at 13,300 ft., La Paz is approximately 1,000 ft. lower than it’s airport in a bowl shaped valley. All are world’s highest lake, commercial airport, and capitol. Snow covered Mt. Illimani looms above La Paz at 21,201 ft.; the mountain is covered by clouds most of the time, but we do get a glimpse of it.
Acquaintances Hazel and Ken Blankenberg from Sacramento are living in La Paz and show us a lot of the city and surroundings. They take us to a nightclub for a good dinner and folkloric show, to Murillo’s home, now a museum, to their home for dinner, and for a ride over rough mountain roads to a golf club and up toward Mt. Illimani, where it snows on us. They are very nice to us and say not many people from home visit them.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment