Party on the Pan-Am!

  Mancora, Peru
Tuesday, December 5, 2006

Off to the next country on our round the world adventure - Peru, the land of the Incas, gold, world class surf and old women who hock and then spit in the street! This final fact may be a surprise to some of you, as it was to me when I first experienced it. What passes for ok and normal in one culture can be seen as vile and antisocial in another. For instance, most Peruvians will look at you with some disgust if you let out even a small satisfied burp after a meal or a beer. In England, I can recollect many occasions where me or one of my friends have been heartily congratulated and judged on the length, volume and melody of a burp in the pub. This may say more about me and my friends than Peruvians but the difference in acceptable manners cannot be denied. I have witnessed here on a few occasions men and women forcing up a gob of spit with that unmistakable sound as it drags across the throat and then firing it onto the pavement. This appears to be a normal action for the women and the older ones seem to be the best at it, I even had one wrinkled woman looking straight at me across the aisle on a bus journey whilst she calmly and methodically picked her nose clean without batting an eyelid. I found this amusing and interesting rather than shocking or repulsive and look forward to cataloguing the bodily habits of cultures across the world on the rest of this trip. Sorry if you don't like it, but I just say what I see...

We are waiting outside our hostel in Cuenca and for the first time have a problem persuading a taxi to take two scruffy looking gringos with huge surfboard bags. Unlike the majority of taxi drivers we have met, this guy doesn't see the novelty in having these seven and a half foot monstrosities strapped to his roof. It is a sign of things to come that day...
After a slight delay we get a cab to the bus station and just make it in time to get our first bus, for once we are on a tight deadline as our next bus across the border only goes every 4 hours and we don't want to be left stranded. The route we take out of Cuenca isn't blessed with nice views but there is added excitement provided by rockslides into the road over one particular stretch, it wouldn't take a big one to shove the bus and its precious cargo into a sheer and fatal drop! We arrive in Machala 10 minutes before the bus is scheduled to leave, I quickly find out that the company we need is a good half hour walk across a busy town centre. In the sweltering midday sun, this is not an option. I begin to flag down taxis, but even though a lot of them have roof racks suitable to the task, the triangular Taxi sign just above the front windscreen makes it difficult, none are willing to strap our boards to the roof. I lose count of the number I attempt to persuade, but on the plus side I get good vocab practice under my belt - heavy, secure, no space, long, inside, straps, please, pretty please, sugar on top, damn, blast and go away!

After about 20 minutes and with the knowledge we have missed our connection, a local fella who has been leaning on a nearby lamppost watching my attempts with a wry grin on his face, offers to take us in his pick up truck. He crosses the street reverses it over and we chuck our gear into the spacious back, we jump up front and breathe a sigh of relief. We have accepted our bus has gone but just hope there is something to do or at least somewhere to sit in shade for the next four hours. We arrive at the bus terminal and as luck would have it our bus is just about to leave but they were waiting for the last two seats to be filled. We happily end their wait and settle in for the next leg.

Crossing the border was pretty straight forward, a couple of stamps in our passports and a hairy moment when our bus shot of into the distance with all our gear, I hurriedly found one of the crew and was assured they were coming back after we had all been stamped. We cross under a big Welcome to Peru arch on the border and no noticeable changes until we hit the desert coastline, I already miss the lush green hills that stretch along the coast of North and Mid Ecuador. 

We arrive in Mancora and very quickly meet up with a Simon and Ghislaine who we met in Canoa. We check into our beach front hostel and take the very short walk to the happening area on the beach by a volleyball court to catch the last of the day's sun and meet a new group of travellers. There are lots of Australians, some English, a fella from Ireland just over on a holiday to name a few. I know jb will be happy to have plenty of English speaking folk around for a change.

The night before JB's beard died. Party on Pan-am!

Mancora is directly on the Pan-am and is quite a busy place, we have our first and last nights drinking on the roadside bars that evening, it is good noisy fun with big HGV's blasting their horns at regular intervals. We have a good crowd of people to speak to, many of whom are surfers or trying to learn. The next morning I get up for a surf and leave jb nursing a mixed hangover of booze and antibiotics for his foot. Tiny perfect waves are peeling across the beach from the reef which I am yet to see exposed so I paddle out to join only two other surfers. I catch a few fun waves but one dies very quickly and leaves me over the reef. My first reef break, without thinking I step down to push onto my board, my first contact is with a sharp rock which leaves a good two inch slice down the base of my big toe on my right foot. Literally the worst spot to have a cut as it is where I put all my weight when controlling the board. I decide to pass on the tiny waves for the rest of the day to let my foot at least begin to heel. After seeing what has happened to what was initially a small cut on jb's foot I am hoping to avoid a long term sore.

We stay in Mancora for another two nights, relaxing, enjoying the consistent days of sunshine and making friends. Simon entertains us and the rest of the beach one afternoon by paddling out to surf in nothing but a pair of bright pink speedos, a brave and highly entertaining pursuit. Not long after this the police arrived and escorted him off the beach. Well done mate!

Simon surfs in the pink!

Simon post surf with Ghislaine

 

 
 
 
We get news of a swell arriving in the next day or two and make the decision to leave for Lobitos, a world class break an hour and a half south of Mancora. We get a crew together which after me and jb includes Simon (Sydney), Big Jimmy (W.Aus), Alex (England) and two Israelis, Omar and Idan (hope I spelt that right). A proper lads surf trip....