Day 19: Luquina Chica Homestay

Our night with the host family was serenaded by a choir of animals - donkeys, dogs, cockerels and a whole host of other cocophonpus creatures sounded their way through the night and the morning. However, buried deep under the weighty, woven blankets, we managed to sleep soundly despite the cold and the animal music. As the night before, we had no idea what was expected of us. We'd been briefed by our guide Gido, that breakfast would be around 7, so I was awake and ready (while Shan and Holly were sleeping beauties), waiting for a knock or a call... it came a little after 8am and I joined Lucila in the kitchen, stopping momentarily to take in the stunning view of the lake from the courtyard. The kitchen was filled with smoke from the hearth and stung my eyes. She handed me a plate of fried eggs and rice (gluten free option) while everyone else shared what looked like pitta bread but crispy and fried. The plan was to help the host family with daily chores for the morning before being brought back to the harbour after lunch. More awkward time was spent, waiting and watching Lucila prepare the lunch and generally work around. We then met José, Lucila's husband, a warm and friendly man who was much chattier than his dear wife. We offered to help numerous times (well, Holly and I did anyway - Shan, struck down with a dose of a cold and, eh, other stomach related ailments, had to go back to bed) but were told to wait.

After a very quiet hour, sitting, waiting, watching, Lucila ushered us to join her. Down the hillside of her house, across the dusty road below and into a field with scrub, we veered around a corner where we could see a small herd of little sheep, patiently huddled together in a rudimentary stone enclosure.

Lucila tossed away a battered sheet of corrugated steel, and a few gnarled logs that were keeping the sheep in and climbed in amongst them where she, really rather roughly, started unwrapping the rope that was round around each of their necks. Holly and I just stood there like plums - what were we to do! My farm reared parents would have been ashamed of me!

Keen to be of SOME assistance I took initiative where I could, moving more logs and chasing/guiding the sheep like some demented sheep-dog-human up the hill to where they were to graze for the day. At one point, following Lucila's example, I grabbed the ropes of a couple of sheep in order to lead them to a grazing spot. Lucila wasn't exactly delicate with them and the sheep were pretty stubborn to shift, so, I used a little force... perhaps a little too much as one of them fell over! Holly, a great support, shrieked with laughter and accused me of nearly killing the sheep! Sheep was fine, for the record, and Lucila clearly didn't mind... anywho, we managed to eventually tie all the sheep to different stakes before moving onto our next task.

We washed the dishes and a few weird potatoes that looked like giant maggots, fed the pig and then waited again.

A short while later, a large tarp was laid in the centre of the courtyard and we were called over. Lucila sat us down and along came Jose, wielding over his shoulder a very heavy looking sack. As we sat, he dumped a huge pile of potatoes on the tarp and casually walked off. Immediately, Lucila started sorting the potatoes. All of them small and virtually identical, she was seemingly able to identify differences and categorise them accordingly. Holly and I followed suit - trying to sort them into small, medium, large and discarding rotten ones. Moments later, Jose reappeared. Another bag of potatoes added to the pile. Okay, we can do this, I thought, as we shuffled through the potatoes. Jose returned a minute later and dumped another giant sackload on top. Holly looked at me with pleading eyes. "We can do this!" I encouraged. And we kept sorting the indistinctive potatoes. When Jose reappeared for the 4th time my heart sank... he's not going to stop is he?! He did eventually... about 10 bags later. Well, he took a break at least. He sat down with us for a time to sort, but it was clear that even Jose didn't have a breeze about what to do as he kept showing Lucila different potatoes and asking her about them in Aymara. He then went on to say that we shouldn't use ones that had eyes - THEY ALL HAD EYES!!! Our initial enthusiasm waned as the futility of our efforts to sort through the endless sea of potatoes became apparent. Despair led to madness when Jose and Lucila abandoned us and we starting effectively rolling around in the potatoe mountain. I mean, we really had wanted to help, but Jesus... it was like shovelling sand. And yes, in case you're wondering, Jose did deposit yet more sackloads of potatoes. I lost track. Along with my mind... arguably one of the most ridiculous and surreal experiences, a source of constant entertainment for me and Holly going forward!

Saved by the bell, we were called in for lunch. A delicious serving of corn, fried cheese and an array of potatoes: this vegetarian feast was barely finishable, but I gave it my best shot. After, we'd just enough time to write in the guest book before being hurried to a waiting trailer being pulled by a motorbike to bring us some of the way to the port. Jose loaded the three of us onto the trailer and we flew down the hillside, where we abruptly stopped and then were guided through fields and the back of houses until we reached the harbour.

All united once more, we said our farewells and boarded the boat, Holly and I still reeling from potato fever, we listened to comparable stories of back breaking, tedious labour in the other houses.

On our way back to Puno, the boat stopped for a short while to allow those of us brave enough to dive into the water. It was clear and beautiful but damn was it cold. Easily, 7/8 degrees. But at least it washed off some of the potato dirt!

Back in Puno harbour, a waiting bus brought us back to our accommodation. A few of us opted to head straight up to the viewpoint, as apparently, any later and it wouldn't be safe.

Climbing hundreds of steps, we reached the viewpoint, marked by an enormous and goofy looking metal condor statue. Another incredible view of this sprawling, hilly city and the beautiful lake beyond.

Back down in the city, Nat and I wandered around and even ventured into the Church of the Candles for a moment of peace and quiet reflection.

Our last night in Peru, Gino recommended dinner and a show. A similar format to the one we'd experienced in Chivay, except this time, the audience was safe from having to participate as it all happened on a stage. Each dance and costume was so different. So much colour and flare and the use of caricatured masks added an element of the bizarre. Perus traditions and culture is endless.

As the musicians and dancers performed, we ate. As it was the last opportunity to do so in Peru, I decided to give some of the traditional dishes ago. Beef heart skewers to start and guinea pig for the main. The beef heart came out, looked pretty good, and although it was tough was quite okay. Not amazing, but not bad either. Then the guinea pig arrived... well, it looked like a guinea pig to start; a bald, deep fat fried one at least! I got stuck in, and surprisingly, it was utterly vile! It was effectively fat covered gristle with a distinct flavour of fish. I would not recommend it. But, chalk it down to experience!

After dinner a half-hearted attempt was made to go out, but with a belly full of unsatisfying food, I called in not long after arriving at the next bar. All were home and in bed by 11:00pm. Peru has everyone knackered.

Accommodation: Helena Inn
Weather: After toasting myself the previous day, I was conscious to lather on the factor 50 and cover up; that evening was once again bitterly cold.