yesterday I planned to leave early because I want to reach Arequipa without an overnight stay.
But I can't do that without breakfast. So I take a taxi, like a king, and ask it to take me to a place where I can find hot tea and a bun. - My tea lady, who served me a big teapot yesterday, is not on duty yet. 5 minutes later, I end up at a market hall, get a bun with fried egg, and at another stall I get the tea. A quarter of an hour later, I'm back in the taxi - a so-called moto-taxi, which is a motorcycle taxi in German. But it has three wheels and space for two people behind the driver. These taxis only cost 2 soles instead of four, they are just as fast, maybe just a little bumpier.
Here, they are used as advertising spaces on bridges or to tap the beer, but here they transport people...
Here too, the population is moving from the countryside to the city. The city is working its way into the mountains with rather makeshift houses
Equipped with two apples, water, and peanuts, I sit on the Vespa at around 11:00 a.m. Driving in the city requires much more mirror work and concentration here than in Chile, and I'm glad when I'm above Tacna and can leave it behind quickly. It greets me again with desolation and a monotonous route. I have about 300 km ahead of me. Actually not much - in European terms, although there are more cars on the roads there than here - here it's not the cars that reduce the average speed, but later the mountains with their many curves. Yesterday was cloudy, today the sun is back, the sky still undecided about how the day will develop. I have respect for fog in the mountains. It is noticeably cooler up here, and the traffic is also denser compared to the Pan-American Highway, but I'm making good progress. There is an interruption after an hour: a customs station that checks not only trucks for their cargo, but also motorcyclists like me. At first, it's official and serious, but when the customs officer holds my passport in his hand, he becomes friendly and somewhat curious. I can leave my luggage on the bike; he would have liked to have a Germany sticker from me. A lamppost a few meters to the right of me is covered with stickers from all over the world. He gives me a small overview map of Peru and shows me the way to Cusco on it, a nice farewell, and I hit the road again. I am in the land of jugo natural - freshly squeezed fruit juice - and I hope to find a 'gas station' soon. I do find a real one, and my horror at the local fuel prices pushes aside the fruit juice. Almost 4 euros per liter. And not only here on route S1, but also in the cities. I still want to find out the reason for this. However, while refueling, I meet two brothers aged 10 and 12 who are interested in the Vespa and ask where I come from. I say Germany and cunningly connect it with the question of whether they know what the continent is called. The younger one immediately has the right answer.
The annoyance about the fuel prices is gone, as they are compensated by the relatively cheap cost of living in the cities. If I didn't have so many kilometers ahead of me today - Google Maps tells me it will take 5 hours, but based on experience it will be 7 and it will get dark quickly - I would save myself from taking photos. The mountains have a rich reddish color, and I'm driving on a plateau, looking down and admiring the shadows created by the folds. A short break on the way, apple, nuts, and water, and then I continue on. On the horizon, I now see the real mountains, which impress me with great respect each time. They have reached dimensions of 5 to 6 thousand meters, covered with snow, and getting closer all the time. The wind changes, the road is again in very good condition. There were sections of the route in the past that were not yet fully paved and had only ruts. That's not pleasant for motorcyclists. The shadows get longer - I almost miss a turn that leads me to Arequipa, and then it's serious. The directional sign says: 14 km uphill. My Vespa notices it later. The speedometer needle barely reaches 30 km/h, then it drops more and more, and the familiar jerking begins. On the right, there is a large parking lot where I have a great view of the plain to the west, and I start to calibrate the carburetor jet. I strike up a conversation with two truck drivers waiting for their colleague. We joke around in the afternoon sun, and I try to concentrate on the wires for the jet. Luckily, I can do both; the second giant truck arrives, also greeted nicely with the same content, and then I say goodbye. The needle easily moves to 50 km/h and could go faster, but now tight curves come up and we quickly feel that we have climbed to 3,000 meters. The panoramic views keep changing, and I would love to stop and take pictures every hundred meters, but I don't want to be on the road here in the dark.
From a distance, I notice cone-shaped, snow-covered mountains. Now I know that they are the 'house mountains' of Arequipa. I'm surprised by how green the city is. It lies on a river that ensures fertility and lush greenery everywhere. A treat for the eyes! The three volcanoes are now clearly visible, no clouds in the sky, very impressive!
Moin Thomas,
guck mir immer wieder gerne deine Fotos an und versuch mir vorzustellen, was du gerade empfindest, riechst ect. Mit deiner Reise hast du auf jeden Fall mein Fernweh geweckt.
besten Dank!! Wahnsinn, was du alles erlebst. Kann man das überhaupt alles verarbeiten? hoffe, dir wird die Grüne Strasse nicht zu langweilig. Aber nach so einer Tour kann ich mir vorstellen, dass man auch noch mehr sehen will ...
beste Grüsse und alles Gute aus dem sommerlichen Ritterhude,
Matthias + family