I’ve been having an inner struggle lately about where the line is between sharing the world’s natural treasures and cultures and exploiting them. The line is most definitely a thin one.

Take, Lake Titicaca — the world’s highest lake at 3,812 meters (12,507 feet). Through a budding tourism industry, guests from all over the world now have premium access to visit the lake and the several groups of indigenous people who still inhabit its several islands. But while the tourism culture expands, the traditional culture diminishes — creating a paradigm. Should we allow unlimited access for tourists to learn about and experience other lands and cultures? Or should we restrict visitors in order to preserve a culture’s traditional lifestyle and to protect the environment? At what point does the tourism industry completely overrun and obscure the landmark? Is it possible to have both without devaluing the experience for either the tourists or the locals?

At Lake Titicaca, South America’s largest lake, a peaceful afternoon with nature is impossible. Dozens, hundreds maybe, of tour groups load up boats, jetting from island to island in a chaotic mess of commercialism. While island-hopping truly is the only way to “experience” the lake that lies between Perú and Bolivia, this mass migration of tourists distracts from the whole reason of the visit: To see the lake and the indigenous people who live there. The people who once lived off the land are now products of the tourism industry, which creates a delicate web that weaves traditional culture into the modern age. Ecotourism allows the groups to earn money for showing off their traditional lifestyle, then the families spend it on satellite dishes and TVs while still claiming to live (and profit from) an indigenous way of life. More tourists buy into it and the web continues to be spun until, perhaps, it is too intricate to distinguish what is artificial and what is real. Sure, opening up a culture to tourism will taint it … but when does it go too far and where is the balance?

I think this opens up even more questions, like the difference between a traveler and a tourist or what really makes a destination a “must see.” Are you really experiencing this world if you are only visiting the tourist-ready version? Is the contrived version really something to be considered a “must see?” 

Lake Titicaca, Perú

These questions started to unravel as I visited two of the 50 or so floating islands on Lake Titicaca’s Perú side. About 3,000 people of the Uros tribe live on the various islands, which they made themselves of a reed-like plant that grows in the lake. Using the plant’s root as an anchor, they then braid the reeds to create thin layers of land which move up to a meter depending on the water level. The people also use the reeds to build houses and boats. The plant is even edible and part of their diet, which primarily consists of the fish they catch. Extended family units live on each island. One island has a school and another houses a church. Some islands on the outskirts of the community are designated for bathrooms. The reeds apparently absorb the waste, but then again, maybe that’s why you’re not supposed to drink the tap water in Puno.

The whole concept and way of life is quite fascinating. But it’s also very contrived. What originated in the pre-Inca era as as a defense mechanism from more powerful tribes has become less of a tradition and more of a job for many of the islanders in the modern age.

At least two of the islands have transformed their peaceful, solitary village into a tourism mecca. With the money they charge tourists to enter their island and profits from selling their crafts to said tourists, the locals have installed solar panels to power their satellite dishes and TVs. Next to their traditional boats of reeds are modern boats with motors. Each day, hordes of tourists pile onto the 60 meter-wide plot built for six families. The waterbed-like surface bobs a few inches with every movement especially near the edges, but the ground is more stable in the center where the tourists gather for a presentation from the island president. While this is the only feasible way the tribe can share their lifestyle with outsiders, the whole ordeal reeks of exploitation. Perhaps that’s why despite the financial benefit, most of the Uros people do not welcome visitors.

One of 50 floating islands.

Local children helping set up shop.

A local girl eating the reeds from her island.

A local woman and her daughter selling tapestries.

A man taking us on a ride on a boat entirely made of reeds.

Nora and I on the boat to the next island.

Me with some of the kids on the island.

Me.

Isla Taquile, unfortunately, wasn’t much different in terms of tourist traps.

Upon arrival, signs exclaimed that taking pictures of locals without asking was disrespectful to their indigenous culture, but if they agreed to a photo, the recommended price was 1 Peruvian Sol (US 40 cents). Fair enough. But then local children snuck into tourists’ photographs without being asked and demanded money in return. Some tourists had lines of up to 12 kids waiting to be paid when only four or five had been in the (unsolicited) picture. Meanwhile, girls peddling handmade bracelets begged and begged, following the gringos like lost puppies until they finally got a dime. While I full-heartedly support purchasing souvenirs from local artisans, the overtures were a major turn-off and I felt like I had to avoid eye contact or risk being harassed. Although the plight of these children — who are obviously trained to beg from the time they can walk — is sad, their behavior was stressful and made my visit to their island difficult to appreciate.

The islanders completely rely on the 40,000 tourists who visit each year for income, which is divided equally per their collectivist beliefs. For example, toursits are assigned a restaurant for lunch based on the island’s schedule to ensure fairness to each establishment. Their crop pastures are also divided into sectors and operated by rotation. The island is about 5 km2 and is home to 2,000 people, who continue to wear traditional outfits and live off the land.

One of the sneaky kids trying to get some coins.

View of the lake from the island.

The island’s trail.

Calm waters.

Me.

I hoped for a less touristy Titicaca on the Bolivian side of the lake, but again, it was more of the same. While Isla del Sol — the only island on Bolivia’s portion of the lake — was indeed less tourist-ready, just as many visitors overcrowded the area. Most of the guests headed up the hillside’s staircase to see the Incan ruin sites, but Nora and I had a bus to catch back on shore in Copacabana and didn’t have much time. Instead, we were sort of able to escape the crowds and enjoyed a peaceful hour on the docks. Of course, dozens of boats still loomed nearby.

So many tourists!

Lake Titicaca, Bolivia

A local woman carrying her young daughter down the stairs.

So perfect, it doesn’t seem real.

Yes, the interaction with the local people felt contrived; and the natural beauty of the lake, marred by modern boats and hordes of gringos. Nonetheless, I don’t regret my visit to Lake Titicaca. In fact, I’d still recommend other people to see it for themselves. But I also recommend finding “off the beaten path” destinations. That often involves a heck of a lot more work than simply booking a tour, but it’s also can be just as — if not more than — rewarding. There’s nothing quite like being in a forest above the clouds or under a waterfall completely (or practically) alone.

So my answers to the great traveling debate?

1.) I don’t know the right balance between opening up landmarks and culture to visitors while preserving them, but I think it’s something we as travelers need to work toward discovering.
2.) What I do know is: if you ditch the guide book’s Top 10 spots to see, chances are you’ll be opening your eyes to a world you never imagined.
3.) Maybe No. 2 is the answer?
3 a) Wait, but if everyone starts going to the undiscovered treasures, they’ll no longer be unknown and we’ll be back at No. 1.
4.) I don’t know the answers to the great traveling debate. Leave your thoughts in the comment section and maybe we can sort out this crisis together.

—JDF