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| All Six of us Chillin at the Rasta Bar |
Puno, Peru was a favorite town, mostly because the locals ignored us. Along with the English girls, we found a “real” bakery with fresh bread, scouted out a laundry (yikes, our clothes were foul from the Inca Trail), paid $1 for Ken to get the most meticulous haircut ever, raced the English girls on tuk tuk’s across the city (cross between a motorbike and a taxi), and shopped for pants. You see, Ken brought ten pounds of electronics on the trip, but only one pair of pants. The shopkeepers laughed at us: no, they did not carry “mas grande, mas gordito” pants that would fit Ken. Finally, feeling slightly desperate we found a merchant who carried 4XL Nike track pants: perfect! We hopped to the harbor and negotiated a two hour tour with a local boat captain. Grabbing a case of Cuscena (Peru’s favorite beer), we set off on our dilapidated boat. In a Gillian’s Island remake, the boat broke down three times until the driver finally dumped us on a small rock island while he fixed the lawn-mower engine. The mini island was covered in bird feces so we lovingly named it Bird Shit Island. Sun-stroked, we made it back to shore and set out for a local Rasta bar to meet up with a French couple from the Inca Trail. The “pizza” that night was awful but we doused it in ranch dressing so it was edible.
Tuk Tuk Racing
Ken Chillin on the Lake
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