From our hometown in the Black Forest, several stages lead us to our destination, Asuncíon. Our trusty Dusty, which already took us through South America for eight months in 2022, is still there. Esteban will be looking after the car until our return. Our friend and his daughter will pick us up directly from the airport in our coach.

We’re back! The feeling is crazy

We’ve found accommodation for a few days again. First, we need to acclimatize. It’s 40 degrees Celsius in Asunción.

We also need to stock up on supplies for the trip and prepare the car before we leave.

We spent three weeks in Asunción back then, so we got to know the city very well and still remember it well.

Leon is thrilled with Dusty. Whether he only recognizes the car from the photos or actually remembers it, I’ll never know.

It’s wonderful to eat real tropical fruit again. The heat is also pleasant (at least in the evenings). Back home, temperatures are low in February.

As if in the land of milk and honey, we taste the food and drinks that we have been missing for a long time.

It takes us until departure to decide whether to go to Argentina or Brazil. The decision isn’t easy. Sara wants to head straight to the sea and the beaches this time. To do that, we’ll have to head directly east to Brazil’s Atlantic coast. On the other hand, we’d like to see something new, and we haven’t been to Argentina yet.

The north of Argentina doesn’t have much to offer, but in the west, around the city of Salta and San Miguel de Tucumán, the mountainous landscape is very beautiful. But even for that, we have to drive as long as it takes to get to the ocean.

Are we going to Argentina or Brazil?

To reach Brazil and its coast, we have to head east. A straight and monotonous drive eventually brings us to Ciudad del Este. We already know the route from last time. There’s no alternative. We stop along the way for lunch, a break for ice cream, or simply to stretch our legs. Leon is doing surprisingly well and is happy next to me in the front seat.

Direction to “Alemania”?!

Google’s navigation app tells me we’re driving to “Alemania,” or Germany. However, the navigation system is referring to a place, not a country. This part of South America is full of German colonies.

In the evening, we reach the city and follow the Rio Paraná northward, where we find a nice place to stay overnight at a cattle ranch. We are allowed to use the private barbecue area with all its amenities. Unfortunately, we have neither coal nor barbecue food, nor time, as Leon needs to sleep, and we see lightning on the horizon.

During the night a heavy thunderstorm sets in and we hope that no branch, tree or lightning will hit the car.

The trees twist and turn, and at least small branches rattle against the car. But everything goes well.

The next morning greets us with glorious sunshine, but around us it looks as if a war has taken place.

Many branches are scattered around and the romantic porch swing has fallen over.

The next day is a day to forget. First of all, the water pump doesn’t work. I discover that the hose has slipped out. Sara has to take care of that because I’m simply too big to reach it.

When I try to start the car, nothing happens! The battery is dead. But why? I didn’t leave any lights on.

I have to get help from the farmers. One quickly turns up with a truck who gives me a jump start. The man doesn’t want any money for the help either.

“In Paraguay, people help each other,” he says in Spanish and smiles at me.

Now I can start the car and leave the farm through the open gate. But the rain has softened the ground so much that I slide with the car, damaging the wooden gate.

Oh man, this too! Now the man accepts my money and my apologies and doesn’t smile anymore.

Next time he’ll think twice about letting people stay here again.

Hose broken, battery dead and gate broken – what a morning!

It takes us hours to get to the border because the traffic jam stretches far out of the city. The battery dies again just outside the Paraguayan border crossing. Right in the thick of the throng of taxis and people trying to cross into Brazil. Numerous people see our plight and offer to “help.” We actually find two cars, but they try in vain to help us with a jump start. Despite charging for several minutes, Dusty won’t start.

It worked this morning. It’s already afternoon now, and it’s very hot. A guy comes along on his scooter and offers to charge the battery somewhere else. I come along, but after looking at the old battery, I decide to buy a new one right away. Even though this one is only three years old, it looks like it was taken out of an old tractor in the barn. It was new when we set off on our first trip to South America three years ago.

At least it works, and the car starts. But now everyone who was involved in the rescue comes running, demanding money. The man on the scooter isn’t satisfied with ten dollars, and the next man also holds out his hand and complains about the five dollars he just got for looking after the car.

Once I’m finally rid of the crowd, we can cross the “Friendship Bridge” into Brazil, where we also spend a few hours in line for passport stamps and this time we even get the aduana for the car. We’re finally in Brazil.