So, do you want to hear what happened last night, after I pressed “publish” and then wanted to go to bed?It’s something that in all my travels, I’ve never experienced.

But first let me back track a little.
It was soon after 8 PM. I’d just finished dinner, and I was reading the last 20 pages of my book before getting stuck into the blog for that day. Music suddenly roared from the next room. It was LOUD.
It was Spanish music coming from the tv. I wondered if I should go and knock on the door and ask them to turn it down, but hey. It was only 8 o’clock. I was reading and writing, not trying to sleep, so why make a fuss? They’ll turn it down soon, right?

I pressed “Publish” on the blog. I sent it to the frogblog and to the group WhatsApp chat. It was 10 PM. The music was still blaring. We had a very early start in the morning…

I decided to thump on the wall. That’s when I discovered that the walls are made of brick. Music kept going.

I grabbed my key, and even though I was in my pjs, I went into the corridor and knocked on the door. Getting progressively louder as the music kept playing.

omg. I went back into my room, and after wondering if I could sleep through it and deciding that no, I really couldn’t, I called Reception.

”We’ll call them. If the music keeps playing, then call us back.”

I heard the phone ringing through the wall. It rang for ages. The music continued. I called back.

The girl at Reception offered to change my room.
“No thanks, “ I said. “ I’ve done washing and I’ve unpacked and everything is organised. Why should I be the one inconvenienced when I’ve done nothing wrong?”

Then she said the words that changed everything.
“The lady in 404 is a member of your group.”

Instantly, I knew who it must be. Remember the woman who woke up the whole camp in the Amazon screaming about lost papers that she’d actually forgotten to bring with her?
Every day, without fail, she’s done something selfish that has annoyed the rest of the group.
I asked between gritted teeth… “Is her name BLANK?”

Of course it was.

They tried twice more to call her, then they sent a security guy up. I heard him gently knocking on the door, so I went out and said, “That doesn’t work,” and then I pounded on the door, calling, “BLANK, OPEN THE DOOR. IT’S FROGDANCER! BLANK!”

The music continued, unabated.

The security guy looked at me and said, “Do you think she’s drunk?”

I sighed. “I don’t know. I think she’s probably fallen asleep.”

The next step was for him to use a master key and open the door. Before that happened, we heard the phone ringing through again.
We heard her pick it up. The music turned down very quickly so BLANK could hear Reception on the other end of the line.

Then came the thing that made my blood boil.
We heard her say to Reception, “Oh no, the music isn’t very loud at all. And you shouldn’t knock on the door so loudly. I scared. You should call me on the phone.”

WTF? No accountability, no recognition that perhaps she’d been inconsiderate… nothing. I hate that. I really do.

She didn’t open the door to apologise, though she knew darned well it was me on the other side, not a gang of Peruvian marauders out to steal her stuff. No guts.
So I posted it on the group WhatsApp.

Bad behaviour gets worse if it stays in the shadows. I chose to shine a light on it. I have received lots of support from the group.

This won’t split the group or cause anyone to be on the outs. We still have two weeks to go and we all have to coexist together. But if she tries to pull stuff like this again? I won’t be suffering in silence. She’ll be called out.

She’s poked the bear.

*******

Anyway, it’s time for some fun facts about Lake Titicaca.

The border between Peru and Bolivia runs through the lake.

The deepest part of the lake is 2,800 metres deep.

It’s the highest navigable lake in the world.

“They fish for the evening, now they return for the day.”

There’s a soccer field next to the water. “ When the ball falls into the water, it’s water polo time.”

Man-made island, in the shallowest part of the lake.
There are around 2,000 people on the islands, but it’s getting less all the time. It’s a hard life here, and the younger people tend to want a more modern life.

When I stepped off the boat onto the island, it was a strange feeling. It felt reasonably solid, but I knew there was water under our feet.

We gathered for a demonstration of how the islands are made. Basically, they grab the roots of the reeds, separate them into manageable chunks, then bind them together with rope and anchor them to the bottom of the lake… “otherwise we’ll wake up in Bolivia!”

They barter with people from the mainland to get wood and rope to hold the roots together

Then they pile layers of reeds on top, weave some houses and Bob’s yer uncle.

Unfortunately, the reeds are hollow, so they are very damp. The people suffer from rheumatism and arthritis as they get older.

They used to make the ropes from these dried grasses, but modern, plastic rope lasts far longer in the water. I think this rope looks beautiful.

Men go fishing from midnight to 5 AM. They put down nets and get them in the afternoon.

Women go to farm on the mainland, and make handicrafts.

“The women never sit with their hands folded. They’re always making something.”

I can’t remember the names of the adults, but the little one is called Ana and she’s 5.

The women reenacted what it’s like to go to the market and barter.

Remember the bread with chocolate that I showed you yesterday? Today we gave half the bread to the people here. They loved it.

This is where little Ana lives, with her parents. After the reeds have dried, it takes around a week to make a house. Nowadays, they use plastic in between the layers in the roof to make it more waterproof.

It’s sunny for 300 days a year, so solar panels are a no-brainer if and when the village can afford them. Ana’s mother was very proud of her electric light.

They also weave their boats from the reeds.

“Young people use the boats for dating and go far away behind the reeds. Three people come back!”

Communal cooking. None of the huts have individual kitchens.

They had stalls set up to sell weaving and other souvenirs. At this stage of the trip, with only two more days in Peru, most of us were running low on Sol, and there was no internet to use cards. It was a shame, as we really wanted to support them.

Then they said that a ride on one of these boats would be 15 Sol or 5USD. I’m running very low on Sol, but I have USD. So I hopped on.

The women sang a traditional song to send us off, but then they broke into this. How funny!

Nikki took this shot, saying it was a great shot. Who am I to argue?

I saw this dog trying to find a quiet place to enjoy his snack.

As our boat was pulling out to go to the next island, I thought I’d show you the edge of a floating island. They have to put a new layer of reeds on top every two weeks, or else it’ll sink.

Those mountains on the other side? Bolivia.

As we arrived at the next island after. 90 minute boat ride, the captain of the boat said it was Paradise Island. There’s no Internet, no dogs, no cars, no supermarket,no policeman … sounds a bit like hell to me!

After walking UP a very steep hill, we reached the communal place. The men were getting ready to perform a dance, and behind them you can see the handicraft stalls set up by their wives.

I took a video of the dance, but I won’t inflict it on you. It was lots of pacing and a little bit of twirling.

As we thought, my Taiwan TripaDeal friend and I bumped into each other again at lunchtime.

I don’t normally take photos of food, but this was delicious. The people from this island rarely go out to fish, as they’re scared of the deep waters. They have trout farms instead.

The men are the ones that do the knitting here and it’s taken very seriously. Boys start learning from around 7 years of age.
When a man wants to marry a girl, he knits a hat like this one and takes it to her father, who fills it with water (or beer.) If water (or beer) runs through any holes in the knitting, that’s not good news.

This is a hat, knitted by the father, for a baby girl. See the brown? It represents the earth that nurtures us.

It’s white for a boy, like the snow capped mountains.

Everything that arrives and leaves the island must be hauled up by hand. There are no cars or trucks.

We left soon after lunch. It was such an interesting day!

Dad joke of the day: