Arriving in a new city at dawn, especially in a foreign country, is an adventure. There’s a thrill to it, yes, but there’s also a touch of vulnerability—of not knowing what to expect, especially when the streets are quiet and darkness surrounds you.
That was exactly how my daughter Julia and I arrived in Puno, Peru, on a cool August morning, stepping off an overnight bus from Cusco. It felt like stepping into another world. The city was asleep, and while I wasn’t exactly afraid, an uneasiness hung in the air.
Puno, Peru, is a vibrant city nestled high in the Andes on the shores of Lake Titicaca. Known as the folkloric heart of Peru, it is the gateway to the floating Uros islands and remote lake communities. Though our stop was brief—a layover before meeting our Uros host—this city had much more in store for us than we could have anticipated.
The Unsettling Moment
Inside the Puno bus terminal, we were greeted by a scene I hadn’t anticipated: crowds packed together, waiting to board buses or greet arriving travelers. It was just after 5 a.m., yet the terminal buzzed with energy. Despite the movement around us, I felt a surge of uncertainty. I had done my research and carefully planned each step, but the early hour and unfamiliar language left me slightly vulnerable.
I kept calm, not wanting to alarm Julia. If there’s one thing I’ve learned through years of travel, it’s this: fear fades once curiosity takes over. I had a plan and a sense of adventure that felt stronger than my worry.
Julia and I maneuvered through the crowded terminal until we found a luggage storage area and dropped off our bags. Relieved of our things, we stepped outside the terminal and saw the sky gradually shift, light filling the dark corners of the streets. As day broke around us, I found a strange reassurance. The quiet mystery of Puno in the dark was slowly transforming.
A colorful line of tuk-tuks—vibrant, three-wheeled taxis—waited eagerly for early-morning passengers. After some friendly negotiation, we climbed into one and were off. It was Julia’s first tuk-tuk ride, and the thrill in her eyes was unmistakable. Our tuk-tuk jolted along the streets, its open sides letting in the cool morning air. I couldn’t help but smile at each bump and turn, sharing a look with Julia that said, “We’re here.”
The First Light of Puno and the Peaceful Cathedral Square
We arrived at Plaza de Armas Square. The Puno Cathedral stood tall and graceful, its silhouette etched against the rising sun’s warm glow. Birds flew across the sky, casting shadows that danced across the stone walls, and for the first time that morning, I felt the city welcoming us. I snapped a photo, hoping to capture the cathedral’s morning beauty. The air felt peaceful, still, as if holding its breath before the start of a new day.
In that stillness, I felt my earlier nervousness beginning to ease. A certain peace comes with just being present, watching a place wake up around you.
Julia laughed as two playful dogs circled and weaved around her, nudging her with their noses, happy to have found a new friend. I watched, smiling at the simple joy of the moment.
There we were, two travelers in a foreign city, and Julia was happily playing with two dogs as if they’d known her forever. For a moment, it felt like we were part of Puno’s morning ritual, just as natural as the sunrise and the people beginning to fill the square.
A Surprise Celebration
As the morning unfolded, it became clear we’d stumbled upon something special. It was Sunday, a day of celebration in Puno, and we were just in time for the Weekly Flag-Raising Ceremony, a tradition that brought the entire community together. Locals started arriving, lots of them, some in their military uniforms. Curious and hungry at this point, Julia and I headed to the hotel next to the plaza —Hacienda Plaza de Armas, a beautiful spot with a welcoming dining area offering a breakfast buffet. We chatted with the friendly hotel staff, who told us what was happening.
Over a warm meal and delicious local fruits, we watched the crowd outside grow, preparations for the ceremony intensifying. The celebration was in full swing when we finished breakfast and stepped back into the square. People were marching, children in school uniforms paraded proudly, and the bright colors and music filled the air with joy.
I spoke to a woman, a teacher, who explained that they weren’t just celebrating the flag-raising that day. It was also the 199th anniversary of the San Carlos Great School Unit (also called Glorious National School of Saint Charles) created by decree of Simón Bolivar on 7 August 1825 in Puno. Seeing the joy and pride in her eyes as she talked about this significant milestone, her school, and the city’s traditions made me feel incredibly grateful to be there, witnessing something so important to the people of Puno.
The bands played, the flags waved, and the air was thick with pride. The unfamiliar had become familiar, and the hesitation I felt earlier that morning had disappeared. Julia and I felt like part of it; visitors swept into a beautiful moment of community.
Among the crowd are local photographers capturing moments for the families. One of them shot a group of young schoolchildren. The kids looked so cute I could not resist. I approached him and bought a copy.
The same photographer offered to snap a picture of Julia and me. A few moments later, he handed us another freshly printed photo, a tangible memory of our time in the heart of Puno’s community.
A Simple Act of Kindness
As the ceremony slowly ended, we knew it was time to return to the terminal and retrieve our bags. We had to catch a ride to meet our host on Lake Titicaca. But when we arrived back at the terminal, there was one small problem: no taxis were in sight. As I wondered what to do next, a policewoman named Silvia approached us, sensing our hesitation.
With a warm smile, she asked if we needed help, and I explained in my broken Spanish that we were trying to find a taxi to take us to Kalapajra Port. She suggested we wait inside the terminal, explaining that taxis passing through the gate were monitored, which would make for a safer option. So we waited, grateful for her guidance.
After some time, though, no taxis had arrived, and Silvia returned to check on us. “I don’t think any taxis are coming in right now. Let’s go outside—I’ll stay with you until we find a safe one.” True to her word, she walked us out of the terminal and stood by our side until a taxi finally appeared. She talked to the driver, took down his information, and confirmed he knew precisely where we were headed. “You’ll be safe with him,” she assured us. Before we left, we took a photo with Silvia to capture this meaningful moment of kindness – a generous stranger who had taken the time to ensure we were safe. It was unexpected and incredibly touching.
Reflecting on Puno: From Uncertainty to Belonging
As the taxi pulled away, I felt a wave of warmth and gratitude. The Puno that had seemed so mysterious in the dark hours of the early morning was now a place full of memories and connections—a city that had welcomed us with open arms. In just a few hours, I had gone from feeling uncertain and out of place to feeling as if we belonged, wrapped in the kindness of strangers.
That morning reminded me of an important truth: the unknown is rarely as scary as we think.
It’s natural to feel nervous in unfamiliar places, but by taking even the smallest steps forward, we invite the world to reveal itself. No matter how unfamiliar, the world welcomes us in ways we don’t expect. All we need is the courage to greet it back.
Read more about our 15-Day Mother-Daughter Adventure in Peru
Have you ever felt the thrill—and maybe a little nervousness—of exploring a new place at dawn? What was your most memorable first impression of a city?
