It does make one wonder, though, how a people unable to be conquered by two of the continent's largest empires now rely heavily on tourism to support themselves. I think it raises important questions about how tourism works in our world.
After parting from the Uros islands, with thoughts of totora, tourism, and empires floating around in my head, we headed towards Isla Amantaní. Unlike the Uru people, who are Aymara speakers, the citizens of Amantaní speak Quechua, and I leaped at the chance to put some of my meager study to use. In one shop, after using the bathroom and ordering a concoction of muña, coca, and pisco, I proudly approached the shopkeeper and said "Tatáy, huk kismayuq soles" with an outstreched hand, holding a ten soles bill and three one sol coins. He turned around, smiled, laughed and shook his head "yes" while saying "¡Arí!" I'll remember that moment forever!
Over the following days I visited a temple of fertility and drank coatí coffee (búscalo), but by far my favorite moment was swimming in Lake Titicaca. Hopping from combi to combi, we finally arrived at a beach two hours away from the city and was met by fierce gusts and frigid water. All that week I had been saying "I need to swim in the lake" and "I want to be able to say I've swum in Lake Titicaca," and, despite my freezing temperature, I forced myself to hop in. Normally I'm very boastful of my ability to withstand cold temperatures, as after all, I'm a New England skier. Nonetheless after 30 seconds of being shoulder deep, I could feel my veins icing over and the numbness wasn't stopping any of the pain.
