12.10.: Huamachuco - 3,200 m -

12.10.

I wake up early and already have a response from Alex in Cologne. My question was whether he could recommend a fast postal service to Peru. Just a reminder: Alex has traveled the North and South American west coast on his Vespa and knows his way around. Furthermore, he offers to have the ignition switch sent to me from his supplier. He knows about the fastest postal routes. I still want to wait for the responses from the workshops in Lima before making a decision.

I pick up my laundry, which I almost forgot in all the hustle and bustle yesterday, and take two pictures of a city that is still almost asleep.

An unusual picture: deserted streets

Afterwards, I have breakfast at one of my favorite restaurants and discover a painting on the wall that deals with the topic of 'hanging meat', which I also like independently of that.

At a little after 10:00 a.m., I'm sitting on the Vespa. Will it start? Or has the ignition taken care of itself overnight and the battery is empty? I turn the ignition key - a strange feeling not to feel any resistance - and it starts on the third try.

The navigation system leads me past my boys' workshop in Evitamiento Sur - I honk loudly to let them know I'm here and actually get noticed. A quick wave before the next pothole and I leave the city behind in beautiful morning sun.

My fear that the Vespa might suddenly die or do other things that could be dangerous to me doesn't come true.

The further south I go, the more clouds gather. The landscape shows fresh spring green next to dusty roadside trees. Spring is not as dominant here as it is in Germany because many trees have kept their leaves. That makes this fresh green all the more beautiful to see.

Now I'm going uphill again, and it's getting cooler. In the distance, I can already see the five- and six-thousanders with their awe-inspiring peaks. And I realize that I'm slowly getting closer to them. It's a different format from what I'm experiencing here.

And once again, like at the beginning of my South America journey, I'm overcome by an uneasy feeling. Do I want to go there? Or rather, do I have to go there?

On the way, there is only a short irregularity, which is quickly rectified: the Vespa suddenly loses power on the uphill, recovers, and then falls back again. Is it the jet that needs to be changed? I drive to the next gas station, check the current altitude, and come to the conclusion that it can't have anything to do with the jet at 2,700 m. But then I notice that a coolant hose has gotten under the throttle cable and is simply blocking it at higher revs.

Another irregularity doesn't really deserve this term, but it shows that the incident no longer deserves all the respect. I stop at a parking bay with a great view, confidently put down the side stand, look at the mountains, and hear the sound of metal and plastic hitting stone behind me. A gust of wind was stronger. The stony sandy ground gives way and there it lies now. The first time, I was still very shocked. Now I take all the weight off it, try it myself to get it upright again, but don't succeed. There is very little traffic, but I'm not worried, a car will come and the Vespa lies there as if on a silver platter. Even curiosity alone will make the driver stop. The helmet, which was also knocked off by the fall and is lying at the roadside, makes the situation look even more serious. And indeed, I hear a car. I wave and it stops. It's a taxi with two older ladies in the back, looking at me with wide eyes of horror. Are they afraid of a robbery or do they fear injured people on the roadside? I briefly speak to the driver, then look through the rear window into the interior, greet them friendly and reassuringly. They wave back.

Uno dos tres - and the Vespa is upright again. I thank them, wave again to the ladies in the back, and am ready to go again a short time later.

I'm on track. Google Maps estimates 4 1/2 hours for 170 km. Accordingly, the average speed is low.
Around 4:30 p.m. - I started at 10:00 a.m. - I reach Huamachuco.
I simply let myself be led into the small town and soon find a very nice hotel with a courtyard from which the rooms branch off.

I'm lucky, just like in Cajamarca, it's absolutely quiet here. No street noise or barking dogs.

A large plaza adorned with many patches of lawn and flower beds welcomes me. A garden artist has carved figures from hedges that have to do with the life of the people here. A bell gate is a eye-catcher, a modern church is its counterpart. A pedestrian street branches off from the plaza, which even provides ramps for wheelchair users from the crossing streets.

The city seems to be doing well as it places such great importance on a beautiful plaza

I didn't hear the bells

It's bustling here. The school-uniformed children play soccer in their fancy uniforms, which will soon no longer be worn at school. The balls roll into the open doors of the shops or between the legs of passersby.

I'm a little surprised. It's 7:00 p.m. and dark, but the kids are having fun.
Along the way today, I encountered entire processions in blue sweaters, white polo shirts, and gray pants. The girls with blue checked skirts and blue sweaters. Quite a contrast to the working people who can be seen on the streets and in the fields in their work clothes. Only the women wear their big hats and colorful skirts with different colored ponchos. This can also be seen in the field work.

After dinner and a stroll, I see that the church is open and a church service is taking place. I join in and enjoy this solemnity again.

As beautiful as it is here, I will continue on tomorrow. My visa is valid for 3 months. Then I have to cross the Brazilian border. I've already 'lost' too much time.