03.08.: Abancay - 2,400 m

03.08.

The groundskeeper, who has to be at the sports field from 06:00 in the morning, can't think of anything better than waking me up through the hostel lady. There is no apparent reason.
There is no breakfast here, so I take out my oats from the side bag, go to the nearest store, get milk and fruit, have a cozy breakfast, and leave quite early by my standards.
As the two mechanics predicted, the first half of the journey is relaxed, the roads are good, and I make good progress. Kalle told me yesterday that there is a missionary clinic in Curahuasi on the way to Acanbay that a German couple with a church background has opened. That interests me.
I am on schedule and of course, I am curious about what awaits me here. (see 30th report: 'Curahuasi: My visit to the missionary clinic')
The second part of the journey is again quite exhausting, another 4,000-meter climb, which the jet simply cannot handle. Although my mechanics were right yesterday in saying that it only goes downhill and therefore a different jet is required - what they didn't know - I have to get out of the valley again and that too at over 4,000 meters. Well, I think, no problem, just change the jet, I find a place with a beautiful view,

My curses echo into the valley...

but it refuses. The problem that started with the jammed screw head has now spread to the jet head. The mechanic tightened it so tight that I can't loosen it with my - admittedly too narrow - screwdriver. My curses echo into the valley. So I put everything back together, subject the Vespa to a few more meters of altitude, until finally the long-awaited descent comes. Concentration is still required here.

Photographed from the saddle

Some switchbacks are so sharp that despite reduced speed, I end up on the opposite lane more than once. There is little traffic, but it reminds me over and over again that descents are just as exhausting as ascents. The sun is already suspiciously slanting, and I definitely want to arrive in Abancay in daylight. I stop at a viewpoint and see how high I still am.

Abancay is a small toy town far below in the hazy valley.

There is no choice, the break is interrupted, and finally, the switchbacks are conquered, and a curve-free and well-paved road lies ahead of me.
Abancay is a city with 55,000 inhabitants and not a tourist magnet. The tour buses to Lima drive through here without stopping, which pleases me very much because there are no gringos to be seen here.
Abancay is also located in a valley with steep roads leading to Plaza de Arma and the city center. I can already see the same fiasco coming towards me as in Cusco, but here we are only half as high. I notice that the Vespa behaves completely differently when accelerating and is able to handle these inner-city inclines, even starting from a standstill.

My hostel: a special architecture...
And behind the staircase is the Vespa parked

I quickly find a hotel, Imperial, with two stars, get a small room with a bathroom for little money, and live in an architecturally unique building. There are two facing three-story rows of houses with long balconies connected by two staircases. In between, there is a driveway that provides enough parking spaces. The whole thing is covered with yellow and transparent semi-circular plastic elements, creating an interesting interplay of colors. You could say that the architect had a good idea, but he didn't think about the residents of this complex. Although all the rooms have windows, the daylight is not sufficient. So my room is rather dim than bright. I am allowed to park my Vespa under cover and later I learn from the reception that there is indeed a vegetarian restaurant - just a few blocks away. I am surprised how well it is visited. I order vegetable tortilla and a large salad. After that, there is the obligatory mate tea here, and I know that I will come here for breakfast tomorrow.
I live in a street where the hardware stores are strung together like pearls on a necklace. Thus, the decision matures to take a day off tomorrow and update my tool supply again.

04.08.

In Cusco, it was the dogs that barked a large part of the night, here it is the roosters crowing to each other across the entire city. So at 04:00 in the morning, sleep is no longer possible for me, and I take the opportunity to write a birthday email and deal with a pending problem.
My plan is to have an inspection done in Lima. I know there is a Vespa dealership with a workshop that Alex has already visited. A few days ago, I received a message from Rolf in Lima that he passed by a Vespa dealership that no longer exists since December. Thanks to Sebastian from Lima - whom I found through the Vespa club - I will find accommodations in his trusted workshop, but that doesn't solve the problem with the necessary spare parts.
There is only one way: they have to be sent from Germany to Lima. Sebastian has already allowed me to have them sent to his address - now it only remains to send them as quickly as possible. early this morning - it is already 11:00 in Germany - I chat with Wilfried, who orders the parts and then with Ute, who sends them on their way. Shipping time: 10 days. Hopefully, there won't be any customs strikes in Peru.
And so the day continues with a lot of activity: breakfast at the vegetarian place is amazing! A fruit salad like at home, oatmeal with hot milk from a cup - unusual but delicious, flavored with a little bit of cinnamon - then a kind of whole grain bread roll with fried eggs and tea. The price is 3 or 4 euros at most!!!
After that, I take out the complete jet with the jammed screw, have a taxi called, and taken to a workshop. The workshop guy recognizes the problem and frees the jet with a few quick moves. Now I take advantage of the numerous hardware stores and get everything I need. The jet is quickly reinstalled, the appropriate screwdriver is obtained, so that nothing of this kind should happen to me again on the open road.

Abancay is a beautiful and chaotic city that I love, and not as fake as Cusco. Everything is back to normal here, and I am an eye-catcher, meaning no backpacks and pale gringo faces. Abancay is like Arica: just plain ugly but still beautiful with character.

I have just returned from the Chinese restaurant, where no German would go. As for hygiene... a look into the sparsely illuminated kitchen reveals used dishes, not quite clean countertops. Anyway, I ordered vegetables and rice, a cola for a total of €3.15, and also a Harry Potter film and the exhaust fumes from the cars that flowed in through the open door for free. The vegetarian place is unfortunately closed.

On the way there, I was interviewed on camera. I suspect they are students who are conducting a survey in the population asking how they would feel about the indigenous language Quechua and whether it should continue to be nurtured in schools. I hardly understood the question, only Quechua, and thought the rest. I naturally support the preservation of the language and brought up the example in Germany of how they deal with old dialects in schools. In the end, I have to say something in Quechua into the microphone... great fun for everyone.

Then I discovered a barbershop - no German would go there either - the place is actually a real disaster. The ceiling is covered with plastic sheeting... dust and only superficially meets hygiene standards, the mirrors are smudgy, used towels not disposed of - but I love that kind of thing in this country and on this continent. The hairdresser finishes her phone call and asks me to take a seat. The chair doesn't inspire confidence - but too late: I fall into it, lean back too heavily, and if the hairdresser hadn't held me, I would have hit the back of my head on the stone floor, which is still adorned with the hair of the previous customer, by the way. The chair is several generations old and certainly doesn't meet any safety standards. Jan Fedder would also have a lot of fun here...
My hairdresser and I both laughed, and she starts cutting. Cutting? With the machine without further ado, without asking me beforehand how I wanted the cut to be. And then with the scissors, but the facts were already established. Now they are short again - maybe very short - it has to be worthwhile and it's practical, especially when I wear the helmet.
I didn't see running water there, but two one-and-a-half-liter bottles of water that should be enough to wash my hair. She only removed the foam from shaving with the brush with which the excess hair is normally brushed away. We had a nice conversation, and despite all the limitations, I felt comfortable.

That's why I'm here! There is a lot of improvisation, and I make nice acquaintances, and there is humor and an understanding of situational comedy.

A good and efficient day! Many things are done and set in motion, Peruvian life lived, and now well-rested for the next stages towards the coast.
If I had to define home, I would include the helpfulness and reliability of my friends at home. Whether it's getting the spare parts and sending them to the post office after almost half a year, having my apartment undergo a thorough cleaning, with Ulli taking care of the details, or Sven, the 'gardener', taking care of the garden and contributing ideas for embellishment, knowing that there is a good house community with my tenants and the temporary tenants - it's a good feeling that everything works at home and everyone gets involved and takes responsibility!

For tomorrow, I plan to cover 120 km. It is supposed to go to Chalhuanca. The route will follow the river, so it should be a pleasant ride. Google Maps also only mentions a two-hour travel time.