Bring out your dead

Steve and I are sitting on a bench outside of my hostel waiting for someone I’ve never met to take me somewhere I’ve never been before. Strange but that’s the nature of travel, isn’t it? Everything is an adventure. 

Take my room, for instance. I booked it online and it had great reviews. At first (and maybe second) glance, it’s a total dive. At 5:30 am it was scary. In daylight it’s better but not by much. But the staff is friendly and helpful, it’s clean and breakfast is good and I don’t ask for much more than that these days. 

Puno, like many foreign places, reveals itself slowly. What I thought was an ugly little town is quite the opposite. It was beautiful plazas and stunning churches and hard-working, friendly people. My hostel is in a great location between the harbour, the Plaza des Armes and a pedestrian area where you can find whatever you’re looking for. 

This afternoon I went to see an ancient burial site outside of the city. Las Chillpas de Sillustani date back to 200 BC. It is a stunning location, and it’s easy to see why three different civilizations chose to bury their dead there. Of course, if you were Inca and unlucky enough to be married to a leader when he passed away, you were killed and buried along with him as well as relatives, pets and other close associates. The only family members who were spared were children so that the line could continue. 

On the way back to Puno we stopped at a farm where some had their pictures taken with llamas and alpacas. The family makes and sells cheese along with woven items and other souvenirs. They also had a thriving community of guinea pigs which were destined to be killed and eaten at some point. They looked pretty happy today though, munching on greens in front of their two storey home. At least they’re treated well before the slaughter, unlike North American animals…