Ah, Mancora. Playground of Peru’s rich and famous; this seaside town had elements of the Gold Coast – just without the skyscrapers or apartment blocks. Its endless stretch of white sand and soft, rolling waves charmed us from the very beginning; while the huge pelicans and vultures hanging out on the beach made us feel far from home. However, we were hit pretty hard by the ‘gringo tax’ here – getting overcharged for everything we bought – and the local mosquito population was thriving to the extent that we could actually see the bristly hairs on their backs. Hey, you can’t have everything.

We made the most of this curious coastal town for a week, working from our hammocks, trying our hand at surfing, eating average, overpriced food and hanging out with a fun American couple. Mancora used to be a sleepy fishing village before the hordes of tourists descended, and it has still retained this down-to-earth, relaxed atmosphere; despite the clubs that line the sand playing bad Spanish techno. The town itself felt like a little pocket of safety with some dodgy riffraff round the edges. Walking the main drag, tuktuk drivers would yell TAXI loudly, followed by a very quiet, whispered offer of the local drugs. So, everywhere we went we would hear what we would call the ‘Mancora jingle’ TAXI! …weed…coke. It had become quite funny by the time we left.

A few kilometres away, things weren’t so rosy, as Joel and I found out on our morning runs along the beach – heading for the deserted stretch of sand north of the town; we would reach a security guard with a gun who would blow his whistle at us, forcing us to turn around. One morning, in my broken Spanish, I asked why we always had to turn around at that point – and he replied something about peasants and pistols. The majority of Peruvians live in poverty, and, to them, Mancora must look like a wonderland of ostentation. People drop more on a week’s holiday here than they earn in an entire year. I guess the security guard was paid to keep the rich inside Mancora’s beach boundaries, for their own safety.

We got pretty unlucky with accommodation in Mancora, switching hotels no less than three times in a week. In the first place, the cleaning ladies stole a couple of our small US notes – not cool – so we moved right away. The second place had beds infested with bed bugs and a layer of filth so thick on the floor it looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years – yuck! Third time’s a charm, and our last hotel was just gorgeous, with clean rooms and views right out onto the beach. We regretted not finding that bad boy at the very beginning!

I had always wanted to learn to surf, but was always too embarrassed to give it a go in New Zealand – and Mancora seemed like the perfect place. No one would know who I was when I bailed, or faceplanted, or got in an awkward spot amongst the pro’s – perfect! So I took a lesson with a local surfer and stood up on no less than six waves. The combination of being in the sea, paddling hard to get out to the break and feeling (vaguely) like a cool ‘surfy chick’ had me addicted. The next day I woke up with bruised hip bones and ribs and arms so sore they felt like they were going to fall off – but it hasn’t stopped me from researching beginner surf breaks in Ecuador and Colombia!

In Huaraz we briefly met a friendly American couple called Kris and Joe who were travelling round Peru for a month, and, lo and behold, we bumped into them on the beach in Mancora on our very first day. We let our hair down on a few nights out with these two, bonding over our shared love of the outdoors and travelling. On our final day in Mancora Joe was itching to try the surf at ‘Lobitos’, Peru’s most well-known surf break and just around the corner from where we were, while Kristen and I were keen to swim with the local turtle population. So, we split up for the day – the boys doing their thing, and us girls heading out on a turtle tour.

We had pictured the turtle swimming to take place at a lovely, clean white sand beach with a handful of others – and, while it was still amazing, this is not how it panned out. We drove south for about 20 minutes before arriving at a dirty pier, surrounded by fishing boats and locals. Cool, we thought, this must be where we board the boat. And it was – hopping on a tiny wee dinghy to motor about 10 metres off the pier and tie up to a buoy. Our tour guide then proceeded to throw a bucket of fish guts into the water, which attracted some of the largest and most beautiful turtles I had ever seen. I took a deep breath, put on a mask and snorkel and jumped into the murky, fishy depths to get up close with these critters. It truly was magical swimming with them – they seemed curious and interested in us, staring into my mask with a human-like intensity – and they would rub their huge shells against the legs of my wetsuit, trying to scratch the barnacles and algae off. I guess I just hadn’t pictured swimming in a sea of fish guts would be part of the experience. Nevertheless, it was a highlight of my time in Mancora, and I especially enjoyed getting up close to one of the tiny babies in the group.

Joel had such an epic day surfing with Joe and a bunch of locals at Lobitos, he wanted to share it himself – you can read about it on his mini blog post here.

After no less than two months in Peru, our visa had almost run out so we caught the bus from Mancora to Guayaquill in Ecuador this morning. Dinner tonight cost us the grand total of $4 USD, and this time in two days we’ll be in the Galapagos Islands. As usual, we don’t have a whole lot to complain about!