Puno

So after my 1 night in Arequipa on the way back East it was on to Puno, a small town on the shores of Lake Titicaca, the highest navigable lake in the world at 3812m above sea level and the 2nd largest lake in South America. The lake straddles the border between Peru and Bolivia and is home to some 40 odd islands as well as the floating communities of the Uros.

The Uros is home to (from memory so not totally trustworthy) approx 300 Uro people who originally built them to escape from the Incas as they captured more and more territory. These people live on islands completely constructed from reeds and anchored using a complicated system of ropes - originally this was for defence purposes but now is a major tourist attraction. To get out to the islands you of course take a boat and then when you get to the first one you hop of and they explain the history of the lake itself and how the islands came into usage then they try and flog you stuff as basically is the case throughout the whole of Peru. Still its worth doing as it is pretty interesting - also amusing to note the sattelite dishes and solar panels that are tucked away from prying tourist eyes! You can even go and stay on the islands yourself as they have a few little hostel type places where you sleep on reed beds and hope you don't freeze your ass off overnight. Anyway that was the floating islands - more about the real ones when I get on to Bolivia.

So the carnival then.....well I happened to arrive in Puno on the last day of the 2 week festival in honour of the Virgin of Candelaria(credited with saving the town from invaders in 1781), it is one of the largest, longest and most lavish celebrations in fiesta-mad Peru. So what happens then? Well you walk down the street to the sound of jazz type bands trying to avoid being pelted with water balloons and being blinded by foam in a can (those crazy peruvians eh?) and then come upon the parade where you have the most elaborate masks and costumes on show that you're ever likely to see. Wierd mix too - wholly surreal to arrive into a town and find almost everyone in bear costumes (thing Jabba), spangled drum-majorette dresses (very short ones with matching hooker platform knee high boots mostly sprayed silver -strange for a country where most of the women dress very conservatively), silver and black matador suits or many-skirted dresses and shawls of cut velvet and damask for the older ladies.

The marching bands were consistently male and they wore a collage of many coloured pastel dress suits. Add alcohol and general mischief to the mix and then you have a festival! Good fun it has to be said although the fear of losing my eyesight was ever present in my mind - never been so glad to wear glasses in all my life! And if I never hear that music again it'll be too soon!