02.10.: San Ignacio / Peru - 1,260 m -

02.10.

for a long time again a sustainable breakfast: bananas, avenas, milk. outside on my terrace with a view of the mountains and the opposite neighboring house.
it is already 27° at half past 10:00 in the morning - spring is making big steps. I am already back on the 7th parallel. Now I have a completely different perspective.
the night was accompanied by not so pleasant dreams. The blame for that lies with the toilet stone, which, although absent, still caused mischief, got into my nose, and didn't have to go far to reach the dream center...

the neighbor already knows - although I didn't meet him yesterday on the bench in front of the hotel - where the journey is going and explains to me as he walks past and while I eat my muesli that Brazil is not that far away... maybe he wants to encourage me with a view of the kilometers.

my view from my breakfast place

later I knock on his door and ask him if he wants the rest of the milk. Claro, is the answer and buen viaje!
his son - about four years old - is also cool and responds to my greeting with a thumbs up gesture.

I'm a little worried before the journey. Rolf wrote to me this morning on his WhatsApp that the worst is yet to come. Great!!! And if it rained, the road would be like a soap. Again: great!!! But it doesn't look like it's going to rain now. The sun is blazing from an almost cloudless sky. There are still 28 km to the border, but they are challenging. What would it be like if it really rained? Not only the torrents, but also the danger that masses of earth would move and completely block the road.

So I let myself go up and down hills. The downhill sections usually cross the rivers either on bridge structures with not so trustworthy aluminum plates, or there is no bridge and you go directly through the floods. The water is clear, I know what I'm getting into. Again, if it rained it would be the end here, because the river would also be higher than it is now.

All the ascents I have experienced so far were no problem for the vespa anymore. But now it's different. It's so steep that she struggles to climb and the engine sounds like it's about to go out. I didn't plan that. I should have turned around at the mountain and looked for another border crossing... but the engine recovers and she gains speed. Lucky me!
After a curve I see two military posts standing in the midday heat. I drive slowly and respectfully towards them, prepared to show my papers. But they want to lighten up the slowly passing hours here, put on an official face, and ask the same questions everyone asks. They let me pass, and now it can't be far anymore. I end up in a village again - I'm not sure if it's right or left, I ask and get sent back. But this road can't be it, I think, turn around again and suddenly I see a border guard standing in front of an entrance that turns out to be the border crossing on closer inspection.

everything is okay so far, but there is still a scary moment that could have turned into more. I am missing a document that allows me to drive a vehicle in Ecuador. I did not receive this document when I crossed the border into Ecuador. Luckily, the border guard is alone and lets it go. But then an older colleague comes in and I hope he doesn't tell him about the missing document. He is his superior, who has just come back a little too early, but he 'doesn't make a fuss' and lets me go. Customs and immigration on the Ecuadorian side are done, the barrier, which is secured with padlocks for cars and pedestrians, is opened.

border traffic

I drive over a bridge to the next barrier, which remains closed. I expect a Peruvian border guard, who does not show up. Peruvians sit about 100 m away in the shade, drinking beers and probably making bets on what this gringo will do next.

boredom

he honks the horn, then gets off, crawls under the barrier, and goes to the beer-drinking men, who later turn out to be policemen and didn't just drink one can of beer before their lunch. one of them would take the plastic chair with him when getting up, but there are subordinates who simply have to hold the chair.

this policeman gives me an idea of how South Americans are treated: authoritarian, arrogant, impatient

the colleague went to eat, he will be done by half past two. no one else wants to be processed at this border. I leave the vespa in no man's land in front of the barrier, take out the key, take the smartie with me, crawl under the barrier again, and sit down in the neighboring restaurant. the beer-drinking policemen point to the immigration office. the colleague for passport control is there.
I enter his office, get my stamp in my passport and a form that I have to present for departure and I am released. while I pack my documents into my backpack, he draws triangles and rectangles on a piece of paper and forgets about me. what's that all about? I suspect it's a computer game that requires analog support.
the break comes in handy because I can change and charge my smartphone to Peruvian conditions. I exchange dollars for soles. in Ecuador it is 5 centavos worse than in Peru... the free market. it turns out that I no longer have the Peruvian SIM card, so I need a new one. so I can use the time wisely and it's already half past two.

the customs officer who has to process my vespa is doing it right. he basically has nothing to do all day except process a maximum of 10 people. he is doing a distance learning course. a thick book is on his desk - no painted triangles and rectangles - the monitor shows that he has already reached the third part. although he doesn't have to endure as many years at this border post due to his age, drawing triangles apparently isn't enough to spend the day productively.

it's half past three - now I can go. the sandy and bumpy road is replaced by an asphalt road from Peru. finally, I can ride and feel the warm wind on my face. although caution is still advised on this road, because there have also been landslides here, which block my lane. but there is almost no traffic, only local motorcycles driving back to their villages.
we have left the 3,000 m altitude a long time ago and the vespa reminds me with a jolt that she needs more fuel now. It's only 20 km to Ignacio, I can't find a parking bay and decide to fulfill her wish in San Ignacio.

I quickly find a hotel. hot water and wifi for less than 7 euros per night. everything is perfect, embroidered pillows with the hotel logo. two stars!
I look for a restaurant for dinner. ordering works, only with naranja (orange juice) my pronunciation seems to be a problem. the waitress is overwhelmed. the boss comes by, smiles at me, gives her employee a tip, and then the orange juice comes. I always find such situations funny. I said naranja three times - slowly and clearly and at the right place with the sharp 'R'! using my best Spanish ever. lo no entiendo - was the answer. I don't understand...

afterwards I discover another restaurant with four tables, which offers fruit salad, natural yogurt, hamburgers, etc. of course, I have to go in. I only want fruit salad, the owner doesn't 'understand' me and wants to sell me his entire range. until I finally agree and also have a hamburger. so that I feel comfortable, he puts on a CD with Argentine tango music, which almost drowns out the noise from the street. motorcycles over motorcycles. a noise - and I'm supposed to understand Spanish???

according to the customs guy, there should be insurance here that I have to revive in Peru...

San Ignacio is loud, the town chaotic, the mototaxis are overtaking wildly - the honking is still missing - there are still too few cars here.

I'm back in Peru and there is 220 volts again.