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Puno, Peru
14° 8' S 75° 41' W
Jul 14, 2006 13:19
Distance 341km

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Other entries in Puno

Vavari Day

Text written in: English

 July 14 ... 7am Start having been woken by the lads from Manchester have a great time in the outdoor swimming pool. I thought I was daft, but that beats all. Miss Hilda had my favourite breakfast ready and a 'goodie bag and I set of for the perilous Toyota bus ride (beats Alton Towers for thrills). This time we got stopped by the Drugs police who had us all out, but the locals (that was all of the except me) caused such a comotion waving their fists and all shouting in Spanish that they backed off and we were off again. At the bus terminus and minus 1Soll, I steped off the Toyota and straight into a 3 wheeled bike with a cry of 'Barrco Vavari par fer vour' . Intergrated transport to perfection. The little lad peddled off squeeking furiously, (Oh for a can of WD40). 15 mins later we arrived at a very posh hotel with an armed guard on the gate. He came out of his box and stood there looking like a Mr.T, lookalike, I looked at the lad, who was nodding vigerosly and backing off. I jumped off and felt sorry for the lad and gave him 4Solls which he grabbed and took off back to town with tyres melting.  I walked towards Mr.T who eyed me with grave suspicion. I dont think anyone had ever arrived by trike at the Hotel before (I have since found out the it cost $350 a night to stay there). Anyway I announce that I had come to visit the Vavari and he very reluctantly moved aside and pointed round the side of the hotel to a path of occasional paving slabs across the lawn. 30 seconds later I realised that my well darned trousers were soaking wet. The hose pipe along side the path had tiny holes to mist water the lawn, was turned on, and me with my sunglasses on couldnt see them, but I sure felt them.

There in front of me in all her glory was The Vivari... Built in England in 1862, shipped out to Peru in 3000 pieces,  carted 190 miles by mule across inhospitable terrain, braving snows and avalanches, and climbing to the Lake at 12500 feet above the Pacific level. (beats dragging the life boat from Lynmouth by a mile)  Vavari was then assembled and her James Watt & Co. engines fired up (running on llama dung) and she happily sailed round the Lake until 1940 when she was just left to rust away. An Englishwoman then spotted her in the 1970 and set about restoring her. She is now in prime condition and can sail the Lake again. Wonderful achievement. Teo's (the 70+ guide) proudest moment however was telling and showing me the video of when he met the BBC and Michael Palin on their visit to the Vavari in 1982.  I thought he had that wrong but didnt comment.

Well along the floating gangway, it was 9am by now, and on board I was greeted my Teo (he of meeting Michael Palin & the BBC fame) who enthusiasticaly spent the next 2 hours showing me every knook and cranny on the barrco. It was as good as my Attic & Basement tours. He kept quizzing me as to the pronuciation of  things eg. zavods were changed to davitts, pu was changed to prow, heneritto was change to generator (mad in Yeovil, incidently). This went on for 2 hours by which time we were both ready for a drink. Much to my surprise we went back to the galley (which had been changed from the goalie) and what I thought were props weren't. On went the kettle, out came some sort of cake, and I spent another happy hour on deck being grilled by Teo on all sorts of things.  I then said I wanted to go round again by myself to get the feel of her and take some pictures. So Teo picked up an old original cork life bouy and set about fitting a new cord, and by the time I'd got back to his bench many  megapixels later he`d been joined by Isobella the other guide. They now had a bouy each and were blanco-ing then with a round block of blanco that I hadn't seen since I had to whiten my pumps (daps) for school. Didn't know they still made it. Still, they looked very smart. I purchased the book, postcard, and a Captains hat that looks more like an American Navy Captains  baseball cap. (more practical I suppose)  filled in the visitors book, and said my farwells to Teo and Isobella with thanks for the 2 cups of tea and 3 bits of cake. It was 1pm by now and I hadn't seen another visitor all morning.

Mr.T had gone so I took a run for the main road and flagged down the first bus (white Toyota 15 seater)  that came along. Went in the direction of Puno and when I had gone someway into the city thought it about time I got off (1Soll) . With no map and no idea where I was except that I was high up I took off in downhill to the right direction. After a nerving 15mins I saw the road ahead bloked with big blocks of rough carved stone...relief  I knew where I was... back at the predestrian way with all the banks and armed police swarming around. A few dollars more and I was in a trike bombing down the hill weaving in and out the traffic to the bus for my little village 12 miles away. Just as we rounded the top of the street I coud see the Toyota thinking of moving off as it was full . I shouted, waved my arms, got out 5Soll and slung it back to the bewildered lad, jumped off the trike and dived head first into the bus ... this time I think I broke the record and got 25 into a Toyota. 1 Soll lighter, a few years older, and 30 mins later  I was under the lukewarm shower and looking forward to a real treat to come after a facinating and informative day.

The treat is that the owner of the Gloria is an old Italien and as all the lads, and the new teacher are in tonight he is going to fire up the big domed clay oven and do real pitzzas for everyone. I gave him a hand with rolling out the dough while Edgar (the Peruvian do anything live-in bod) slide them into the oven. When all the lads had been fed Friz asked me what sort of pittza I wanted, and his Dad interjected and rabbited somthing in Italien, Fritz said have another local beer and wait a 4 mins. 4 mins later I was presented with a large 'Cornish Pasty' on a wooden block ....  it was out of this world. Fritz said it was his Dad's speciality ..  a Calazone.

Happily to a cold bed and freezing room, that night wonder about events in Minehead, Bath, and Sydney...they could be 7000 miles away