Dear Diary

Bolivian Copacabana is behind us and a bunch of formalities ahead. However, the border crossing is unproblematic. The Bolivian police and customs have nothing to do and quickly wave us out of the country. There is a little more going on with the Peruvians, at least they are also interested in our state of health and check us for Covid-19.

We get our stamps and the customs officer who issues my temporary residence permit for the car has more problems reading the information on his computer screen than my credibility.



We stop in the small town of Yunguyo just after the border crossing. There we actually only want to buy new SIM cards and withdraw money, but then the village has more to offer than we thought. We stroll through the city center and have lunch. It’s quiet at first, but just as I successfully return to the car with new SIM cards and Peruvian soles in my pockets, all hell breaks loose.

The streets are suddenly crowded and young and old people are on the streets waving political flags while loud music blares from loudspeakers and various musical instruments.



Then parades of what appear to be two or more different political factions begin. We are late returning to our parked car and are caught in one of the parades. But people are happy about our obvious interest in their demonstration; the men shake my hand and the women pounce on Leon to touch his hands or feet. Even older ladies with the face of the bark of a cork oak beam a wide, toothless smile at the sight of the little boy and also caress Leon’s feet.

Elections are scheduled for the coming weekend and the various factions are trying to mobilize supporters. For a new beginning.





As soon as the move is over, we take the opportunity to continue.

Our stop for the night is at the other end of Lake Titicaca: the city of Puno.


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