Just like living in Paradise....

Mancora Travel Blog

 › entry 29 of 74 › view all entries

The next morning I woke briefly at around 8 and to my absolute horror, saw a flat grey sky outside my window.  Seemingly cursed to forever exist in grayness rather than sunshine, I rolled over and went back to sleep, praying that it was bad dream and when I woke again the sky would be clear.  The local sun god must have liked me for this is exactly what happened…at the next rising at around noon, the sky was spotless and my long desired sun blazed overhead.  The hostel is right on the beach yet it seemed quite a few people were going into Mancora town for the public beach, so I shared a tuk tuk into town and headed there instead.

The town is tiny and touristy, full of surf shops and restaurants, with a market of small bamboo stalls lining the main street selling jewelry and shell decorations.

 I was with 2 other girls and after we swam we headed here for a bit of shopping.  The beach was lovely and warm with a clear view of my first glimpse at the Pacific Ocean.  The water was clean and fairly warm, very salty and the wind was quite strong, meaning every beach vendor peddling their cheap wares kicked up enough of a sandstorm to completely coat everything I own, from my towel to my teeth.

Lunch was the typical fair for the region: full of seafood and rice, with a local appetizer of semi raw fish and onions called cerviche.  At only 5 soles for 2 courses it’s a steal, and everything is served with delicious fried salted banana chips.  Once back at the hostel I didn’t move again, having dinner and drinks at the convenience of “home.

 The crowd was young, tan and talked of surfing constantly, making me feel I really must try this sport at least once while here.  One American had his guitar and gladly entertained everyone while we milled around the pool table or drank comfortably in one of the many bean bag chairs strewn about the wooden floor.  The vibe was perfectly relaxed in the cool sea breezes that passed through, and slowly people began to filter out and head to bed.  

I at one stage met a lovely and extremely drunk Irish girl who was staying not directly in the hostel but in the private bungalows directly beside it, and she gave me a tour of the private slice of paradise she shared with her boyfriend.  In blunt drunk honesty she told me they were having loads of sex in the hugh double bed, and I, not for the first time of course, got a stabbing reminder that I am traveling alone, for a year…  That’s certainly no short time to remain lonely, and I missed Darren terribly.

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Mancora
photo by: yadilitta