Thoughts on Floating Islands

So, as I mentioned earlier, Oscar got me to think a lot about the roles that children play in the places I have visited--and the long-term effects on their families culture--particularly with regards to making money (in some cases work). I think that I've started to develop some opinions on the subject, but really just wanted to sit down, type things out, and throw out some questions in hopes that anybody who reads this will either come back with some questions or thoughts of their own...

Before you go on, I warn you that none of this may make sense. It is really just for my own sake that I type this out.

Oscar wasn't the only thing that made me think about this topic... It actually all started a while ago when I read about the floating reed islands of the Uro people located on Lake Titicaca and accessible from Puno. I probably should have gone to see it for myself before I really start to formulate any thoughts on the matter, but after hearing things from a lot of travellers, guide books, etc. I couldn't have helped but develop some opinions... Most of the travellers that I have spoken with, and the differing guide books have suggested that thte islands have become overwhelmingly commercialized. One person told me it was, "a fully overblown tourist attraction with a taste of culture--however compromised." I know, what in the hell does this have to do with kids and making money? Well, its really about what the kids or families do in order to earn the money, and what kind of affect it has on not only the kids future, but also the future of the entire culture (Culture is also a common theme amongst all of the places that I have visited thus far, and since the education--of all sorts--of children affects the future of the culture, I thought it all to be relevant).

As I have traveled through Guanajuato, Mexico City, Quito, Otavalo, Guayaquil, Cusco, Huayllacocha, Puno, Copacabana, and now La Paz, I have seen a common thing with regards to the culture--an obvious one at that--kids working in some way, shape, or form. The how and why differ greatly amongst all of the places, and none of them--to my knowledge--are forcing the kids to do overly demanding labor... In Mexico, not a whole lot of kids seemed to work, unless it was in their family shops or bakeries. The same was the case for Otavalo and Quito. In Copacabana, Cusco, and La Paz, kids work--though the degree and method seems to vary greatly. In Cusco, and as I have heard with regard to the floating islands, kids are put on show in order to get photos taken for money, i.e. dressing in traditional garb and posing with Llamas. Here in La Paz, mothers are telling their children to walk up to white people, put on a cute face, and beg for change (I don't find anything wrong with asking for money, but having your kids ask for money--in my opinion--is teaching them something far less important than most other things that kids need to be taught... And I am aware that in a country such as Bolivia, where the economy isn't doing so great, people are going to be down, especially without a primary education in many instances) ... Conversely, in Copacabana kids are working in restaurants during break in order to help out the fam. Or, in Oscar's case, they are trying to guide around obviously confused tourists in order to make a dime. In all cases--I hope--kids are learning things and they are using information that they have either learned from their parents or school.


And here come the questions...

So which kids are going to have a more prosperous future? Which kids are also most likely to maintain cultural traditions and cultural integrity--whatever that may be? In Oscar's case, I wouldn't be surprised if he learns English, moves away from the island and still maintains traditions held on Isla del Sol--though with adjustments, or compromises. In converse, what will happen to the kid on the floating reed island whose culture may--or may not--be compromised by the thousands of white tourists that pay big bucks to come watch the same routine? The kid is learning that you can make a living by sharing your culture with people, right? Is that a bad thing? What will happen with that kid if Lake Titicaca ever dries up? Will he have the skills necessary to make a living then? What about his kids? How about Oscar's? If, in each scenario, the culture adjusts to accomodate survival, what is the big long-term difference? It is entirely possible that the mother on the streets of La Paz will use the money she gets to ensure that her kids get an education and never have to panhandle again...

And some bigger questions...

Will the respective cultures fade away regardless of what happens in the 'opposing' situations? Does the long-term adjustment of culture, via a blend with commercialization, mean that its not the same? Is culture ever the same from generation to generation? Can you ever deem which parts of a culture are the most important?

Kind of a long rambling post, but these are the things that I think about as I move from place to place. In many cases, they're also the things that we aren't always faced with in the states... I don't know. What do you think?

Another Year

These were not on my birthday cake, in case you were wondering...

Last week, as I was preparing to leave Cusco on board an overnight bus to Copacabana de Bolivia via Puno, the lights went out. All of the lights in the entire city of Cusco--gone--for about 30 minutes. That simple lapse in light made me too tired. I didn't care if the next day was my birthday, I couldn't force myself (literally in Peru) into the bus. I headed back to my hostel, snagged another bed for the night, and decided to take off in the morning--to Puno, not Copacabana. In hindsight, it was probably the better decision. I got a full nights rest and was able to get all of my paperwork for the newly required Bolivian visa for American citizens.

I went to the bus station in the morning with Alan and Stephanie, a couple that seems to end up in all of the same places I do (something that actually happens quite a lot). I handed the man my ticket, he proceeded to freak out, give me a hug, and yell "HOPPY BIRDAY!!!" I'm not gonna lie, that is probably the most excited that anybody has been for my birthday in a long time. We boarded the bus, and I tried to go back to sleep, until the guy then got on the intercom and started singing happy birthday. He was seriously very very excited.

Anyway, after a long and beautiful four hours on the bus, we found ourselves in muddy Puno, home of the tour that takes you to the home of the floating reed islands (the reed islands, or at least what I have heard, have become a recent fascination of mine, as well as a hot topic of discussion). After shaking off some hecklers, a cab was snagged and I found myself taking happy birthday shots of homemade Peruvian liquor with the hostel managers (it was pretty tame stuff though, Mom). I went to get some dinner shortly thereafter, and returned to find birthday cake waiting for me... All of the niceties were starting to make me feel sad that I was leaving Peru. Though, there has certainly been a trend between the Andes and absolutely unbelievable hospitality, only rivaled by that of Nebraskans. At least, that's what I've found so far, in my short 23 year old life.

I woke up the next morning to take the early bus to Copacabana--my planned refuge and place of relaxation.

The Bolivian Border is a Joke

Considering what Bolivians have to go through in order to get into America, I could easily understand the reciprocal thinking involved when the Bolivian Government implimented the new visa requirements and $100 fee for Americans (More info can be found here). In short, Americans are required to present the following information at a point of entry or Bolivian consulate:

1. The sworn statement for visa application form
2. A passport valid for six months
3. Hotel reservation or invitation letter
4. Photocopy of roundtrip ticket or travel itinerary
5. Economic solvency
6. Payment of $100 visa issuance fee
7. International yellow fever vaccination certificate

As we approached the border, the stuard on the bus proceeded to tell me that I was the only American citizen on board, and that I would be issued a $40 exit fee from Peru. I called his bluff, and asked for paperwork... He tried to explain to me that the $40 would normally be split between all of the American citizens on the bus, but I was the only one--poor me. Of course, I asked to see the passenger list, discovered that there were two more Americans on the front of the bus, which made me think he was even more full of it than I already did. I told them not to pay anything until we saw official documentation of such, and got focused for the border... Since, of course, being the socially conscious and upstanding American that I am, I needed to have all of my paperwork organized and neatly folded in an envelope.

After brushing off the $40 "exit fee," I was grouped with the other Americanos and headed to the office for visa issuance... It was there that I found out--to no surprise--that the other Americans didn't have any of the paperwork and didn't even know about the new requirements. I couldn't help but be embarassed for the 49% of my country that tries to stay on top of things like this. We got ushered through, the guy didn't look at half of my paperwork, was convinced to not bother with taking any paperwork for the other Americans (with exception of our money), got our visas, and that was that. I'm pretty sure that it was hardly what Bolivian President, Evo Morales, had intended. I thought that maybe it was just about the money. Though, I still refuse to believe so...

I eventually made it to Copacabana, and well, the power was out. I was kind of happy about it... I shrugged my shoulders and took a nap.