The end.

But onward we trudged to the boat on our lake tour. Lago Titikaka is the worldest's highest lake and splits its boundaries between Bolivia and Peru. I only saw the Peruvian side, but the crystal, sublime blue of the lake created lasting impressions in my mind for the hours we relaxed in the sun on the top of our cruiser. I attempted to redeem my sleep-deprived body with cat naps on the top deck.

The first island was a floating reed isla, comprised of 43 individual floating communities, this place puzzled me. It was incredibly touristy and quite fake, in my opinion. I'm still searching for the most appropriate description of it. Disneyland? Still, I enjoyed it. We danced, we doned "typical" island costumes, and snapped "hello, i'm on a floating reed island pictures." I bought a porcelin fish bowl I was particularly fond of, until it broke in various pieces, hours later.

Four hours of chugging on the sea, we arrived at our homestay island, a desolate place inhabitated by 4,000 people, almost all descendents of the Incans. Most of the older generation speaks only Quecha (sp?), the official language of the Incans, however, the younger generation is taught in Spanish in the island's elementary and high school.

Allison, my roommate, however, was unfortunately suffering from altitude sickness and slept away most of the day. I too fell asleep early, around 8, but before, I enjoyed one of the most spectacular sunsets with the rich, creamy blend of colors reflecting over the lake atop the highest point of the hilly island. I could feel the steep ascent as I climbed, the altitude luckily only affected me in the sense of shortness of breath while I trekked the Incan stone steps. I still arrived first to the top, before any of my other 20 boat mates.

After a 6 a.m. breakfast of a crep-like pancake and nescafe powder, we visited our final island, a previous prison for Peru's criminals. After the end of that reign, the island's residents now live tax-free for compensation, although officially it only acted as a prison for four years. We ate trout fresh from the lake and slurped sopa (soup) con quinoa (a Peruvian grain I have become quite fond of).

The next 25 hours involved the transition between Puno and Lima. Lonely Planet told me it would take 19 hours, it's not exciting realizing that while en route you have an additional six hours, but we survived. I even crocheted a red headband with my time and added a pound of grease to my hair, also I don't think I've smelled that gross since....hmmmmmmm. I don't think I can finish that.

Lima was like a large light at the end of a mainly dessert and sea filled ride of shacks and very poor, rural villages. Despite Lima's shining gloss, Peru is still a third-world country and that ride showed me evidence of that.

After a much-needed shower, we walked around Lima's centro historico district and visited the city's nearby beach in Miraflores. I jumped in the salty and quite dirty sea water. I pulled a bird feather off my body as I exited the sludge and soaked up the heat of the sun of the rock shoreline. But I'm not sick, despite gulping an accidental mouth full of water, luckily. My roommate, Joe, however, is feeling the effects of Peruvian cuisine with an upset stomach still.

In the morning we finished our trip with the perfect goodbye to Lima and Peru by paragliding over the sea and Lima's tall skyscrapers. It was magical and I felt like I was flying. Ah, I love Peru.