Sunday, May 28, 2017

Roper 20 - Lake Titicaca

Nothing like waking up with a cats arse in your face.

I brushed one of the thousands of striped, yellow eyed devils of my chest.

He looked at me like I was an insect with "I KNOW you like it, my arse shines bright like diamond!" and exited the villages only guest hut. Strutting, tail erect...proud like a prince of hell.

I starred at the ceiling for what must have been at least twenty minutes, but it felt like second. God, I hated what came now.

I rose up and stood, eyes closed with both hands stretched out.

Yesterdays Mate tea actually did not erupt out of my mouth, so I guess my seasickness finally got bored and moved along.

Three steps took me to the entrance of the hut where a deceivingly bright sun did not manage to really warm me.

I tried to pull my poncho tighter around me...a bit more pressure and that thing would be a part of my SKIN.

I starred at what must be the Bolivian part of the lake and tried to figure out if the moving horizon would do what the islands movements could not.

I was told that in the old days, before we threw the world back into the dark ages, the lakes shore side would be black with tourists. Paying a handsome buck to walk on the squishy, wobbling floating islands of the Uros.

(I stopped dead in my train of thought: Nope, neither "squishy", "wobbly" or "floating" summoned dizzyness..)

But now the beaches where deserted, probably also on account of the Uros themselves who would shoot anyone just looking at their hand made islands.

I decided to find the others and walked on to the rim of the large island constituting the nerve center of the nation of Uros. It STILL felt like walking on a water bed...or like being drunk in a bouncy castle. Luckily I   found the Mandrake short after, she held a reed basked up in front of her, both eyes. closed.

"Just fucking DO it!" She hissed at L.

I squinted. I could swear that L. was chocking/shacking a large bird with both hands with a very focused look in on his face.

I sat down.

Maybe the Ayahuasca from last week had a comeback and played havoc with my brain.

"What the fuck are you doing! Quit chocking that bird!"

"But it got our fucking breakfast!" L. said as he tried a new technique and turned the impressive large bird upside down and...it looked like he was trying to play accordion on that poor animal.

The bird gave up to this treatment and a large fish slid out of its throat as it opened its beak. 

The Mandrake squealed involuntary as the basked got heavy.

"I fucking hate that, it looks like birth!!"

"Sorry love" L. said as he threw the indignant Comoran over his shoulder.

I probably should explain: The Uros keep Comorans as livestock with their throats "crimped" with pieces of string. The bird can still catch fish..but not swallow. The villagers gracefully allowed us to borrow a bird commonly known as "The Asshole" so we could provide for ourselves.

We still don`t know if we got the bird as a rite of passage or as a mean to get rid of us again...or they are just taking the piss.

According to L. it is probably the last.

The Mandrake hesitantly opened her eyes and starred at the fish.

"Yummy! E...do we need to spike this one with Dramamine as well or will you be ok?"

"I think I`ll be ok....what else is for breakfast?"

"Reeds and Mate, idiot."

She took the basket and waltzed off to the villages only fire place. The had a large square of granite tiles where the communal cooking took place. Not so much out of fear to put the island on fire but because precious fuel would not burn on the moist, bog like ground.

I elbowed L. in the gut to get his attention since he was starring mesmerized at the Mandrakes ass which was lovingly held by her leather pants. I had to give it her though: She totally pulled that indio/goth fusion off.

"Hrm?"

"Hook a brother up?"

"Oh yeah, sure"

He gave me one of the precious few doobies left in his watertight titanium pill box around his neck.

We lit and smoked.

"Are you assholes getting stoned again?!"

I dropped the doobie in the water and L. looked at me as if I just blended a kitten.

M. came around the corner with a bundle of reed balancing on her left hip and with a large, extremely sharp looking knife in her right.

"I appreciate that you two initiated the fall of the motherfucking patriarchy and so on. But can a girl get a fucking hand around here? Its our turn to do repairs!"

I think I must have FLOATED over to her.

She kissed me on the cheek.

"Hey poor baby, DON`T kiss me on the mouth, fish breath! NOT before we found some toothpaste!"







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