First view of the lake as we approach via road from Arequipa.
A city of 250,000 on the shores of the lake.
The little doll is the room key. You have to look up her dress to see the room number.
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Jesus and friends march past.
Now we're on the boat out on Lake Titicaca. The lake's surface is at 3820 metres, but we're getting used to it by now.
The Peruvian flag takes its colours from the flamingo. The liberator, General San Martin, had a dream about flamingoes while in Peru.
Coming up to the villages on the floating islands.
Everything on these islands (including the islands themselves), is made of reeds.
The boats (the left one!) are made of reeds.
The dwellings and even the ground you walk on, are reeds.
The floating reed islands in the lake consist of a surface of reeds several metres deep.
And the locals sell trinkets to the tourists.
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Yeah, I can see the Vikings quaking in their boots!
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Is that head pointing the wrong way?
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Apparently you have to use a sort of 'figure eight' action.
Row harder!
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You can do anything with reeds.
Life's tough, isn't it?
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We set sail for an hour and half trip to some real islands.
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She does this trip every 3 weeks.
Our hostess Rebecca cooking up lunch.
The home-cooked meals were absolutely delicious!
As practice for the Inca Trail, we had to hike 250m up the hill to the peak of the island.
If you can get up here, you'll probably be able to cope with the Inca Trail.
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Looking back down the path we have to take.
Sunset from the trail on the island.
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We're going to a dance so traditional costumes are in order.
All dressed up with somewhere to go.
Here we are at the dance in outfits. Sherryn, Paola, Jelena, Wozza, Jo and Jean and Peter in front
Jean and Rebecca shake it up.
Who said something funny?
This was the accommodation arrangements.
Things look so much brighter when wearing a silly hat.
View from the hut.
View from the hut in a different direction.
You never stick the paper in bowl in Peru (and most of central America). Instead you put the used paper in the wastebasket. You don't really want to click on this thumbnail, trust me.
Now to Txxxxx isaland.
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Traditional ploughing with oxen.
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Apparently there is over 500 hundred steps. Scott tried to count them.
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We made the walk down, so we're going to relax.
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The boat ran out of fuel on the trip back. After a quick mobile phone call, the rescuers arrived with a jerry can.
With the engine dead, we lost headway and drited into the reeds.
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Looking much greener after overnight rains. No, really.
