Chris and I survived one birthday extravaganza in Mancora, Peru, and are gearing up for another one this Saturday in Guayaquil, Ecuador. I’m sorry I didn’t check in on the blog last week, but it was time to do nothing on a beach and I didn’t have much to write about anyway.
If you like dirty, sleepy surfer towns with good food and obnoxious discos every night of the week, then Mancora is for you. It’s a stop on the surfer pilgrimage down the Pan-American Highway. The water isn’t too cold and they have long continuous breaks, and according to Chris, lots and lots of fish in the water. I was still nursing my cut and bruised shins from the Inca Trail and a trip in third world ocean didn’t seem like the most hygienic step towards recovery. But it looked pretty.
We stayed across from the beach at a place called Casa Blanca and we shared our room with an assortment of biting insects, crickets, and possibly rats on the roof. Yuck. Plus we were near the discos so I got to hear ‘Hips Don’t Lie’ by Shakira at least four times a night, usually ending around 2AM. But it was cheap and we are seriously trying to save money right now. During the day, we drank $3 650ml beers and ate ceviche and fried calamari and shrimp on the beach. The seafood, from the shellfish to the tuna, was truly delicious in Mancora. And I tried to hide from the sun, because it is so strong the closer you get to the Equator. On my birthday, we met up with a couple we’d met earlier in the day from Portland, Oregon and ended the night on the beach with a fire and an assortment of international hippies and local kids. It was a good 29th celebration.
Yesterday, Chris and I took a stupidly long bus ride to Guayaquil. From here, we hope to catch a flight to the Galapagos on Sunday for an eight day cruise. That is our big money sucker, so we are currently staying in a hotel for $12.50 a night (I splurged an extra $1.50 for an air conditioner). I remember at the beginning of the trip telling Chris that I could never stay in a room filled with bugs and containing no hot water. Apparently, my standards have dropped a bit.
We have a reservation for our Galapagos trip but we still have not been able to transfer money to the travel agent to pay. They can’t accept credit cards and we need to deposit the money into an account. It has taken too many days with bank holds and I am getting nervous. But Chris just transferred a bulk of the money over, so hopefully it all works out.
But back to the miserable bus trip; it was miserable. It took us 2 hours to get through the border crossings between Peru and Ecuador. On the Peru side, we waited in line for 45 minutes for one guy to stamp everyone out on their exit card. Then, we had to go into another room and another line to get another guy to stamp our passport, because one person couldn’t possibly do both jobs. I have no idea why it took so long, because the only thing I was asked was how I pronounce my middle name (it’s Michele, not Micheley). In Ecuador, after about 20 minutes in line, I was asked how to pronounce my last name and what cities I planned to visit and then given a thumbs up by one of the guards. Good thing I chose wisely.
Between border crossings and general South American lateness, I think our bus trip took about 11 hours and we originally thought it would take about 5. Our next trip to another country (Colombia) is going to be via air, so that should make things easier.
So hello Ecuador. Chris and I went to a new boardwalk to have dinner last night and spent too much money on dinner. We had read that crab were must in this town, so for $12.99 (they use the US dollar in Ecuador) we had all you can drink beers, crab soup, crab rice, fried banana chips, some sort of weird pumpkin/raisin crab stuffed crab head, and BUCKETS of steamed crabs. They kept bringing buckets of the sad little things covered in mud and dirt. I should have known better as I usually receive shrimp with the heads and legs down here and mussels and clams with a mouthful of sand and fish with the heads and bones. Usually, when I have crab, I am just given the legs. We weren’t sure what to do with the head and when I busted it open with my mallet, it just looked like a big grey dirty mess, so I didn’t touch it again. The legs were tasty, but too much work for me, and I don’t like being given a whole animal to pick apart and de-dirt and eat. I like my animal to not resemble an animal, just a pile of meat.
Today, we are going to walk around the city. Guayaquil is the largest city in Ecuador and we already found the cinema so hopefully we can see the new Indiana Jones. On the buses, they always show these horrible bootlegs and yesterday, we got the new Indiana Jones in Spanish and filmed by camcorder in a theatre. We tried to ignore it and really want to see the film in English and not by someone’s crappy handheld. There is also an IMAX and if they have something in English, I would like to see that as well.
If we disappear for a bit, we are sailing through the Galapagos cavorting with sea lions and iguanas and giant turtles. So wish us luck.
Showing posts with label Mancora. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mancora. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Bugs, Beaches, Buses and Boats
After Machu Picchu we took a bus to Mancora, which is a little beach town in northern Peru. We took an overnight bus and paid the extra $15 for the "first class" section of the bus. I really don´t think that there was any difference between the first class and the rest, although we were separated from the toilet by a door that kept the stink out. Maybe that was what the extra money was for. It was a pretty typical bus ride. The food sucked, there wasn´t enough room, the movies were bootleg copies dubbed into Spanish with the volume turned down to low to hear anyway. Also, as is typical, we had no idea what was going on when the bus made its various stops.
We got off in the morning, got our bags out from under the bus and started walking towards what we hoped was an area with hotels. We hadn´t booked one ahead of time. After not walking very far we decided it would be best to ask someone at the bus stop where the hotels were. At this point they realised we thought we were in Mancora, but we were actually in Los Organos. Mancora is not a big town by any stretch, but apparently Los Organos has absolutely nothing. Apparently not even one hotel, because that tipped the lady at the bus station off that we were not where we thought we were. As the bus started to pull away someone caught the attention of the driver and he let us back on, now with our huge backpacks as carry-on luggage.
It was only like another 20 minutes or so to Mancora. When we got there, we were instantly bombarded with offers for a mototaxi. A mototaxi is a motorcycle that has been converted into a three-wheeled taxi with a bench for the passengers and a little rack on the back for luggage in case you didn´t know. There are approximately 238 mototaxis in Mancora. I only counted 147 tourists while we were there, so the market for taxis is already grossly over-saturated in case any of you were thinking of a career change. Our potential taxi driver pulled out a map with a list of hotels/straw huts in the area. We remembered the Casa Blanca from the vivamancora website and it was cheap (around $15 per night), so we had the guy take us there.
The room looked clean except for the dead bugs on the bed and the live ones in the bathroom, so we decided to stay there for a few days. There was a nice wide beach across the street with a great break that attracted only a handful of surfers each day. There were also a lot of bars and restaurants that line the back of the beach. It was nice to finally be somewhere warm and sunny after climbing around in the Andes and visiting cold places like Lake Titicaca.
In Mancora, the party starts around 10 or 11 and lasts from between 3 am and 8 am. We really only partook in this on Stef´s birthday, so the other nights we spent trying to fall asleep to music that sucked to bad to be played in the States and was exported to lands where people don´t know any better. Most nights we were so exhausted that that wouldn´t have mattered, but the constant reminder of biting bugs and the sound of rats in the thatch ceiling all combined to make for some pretty poor nights of sleeping. We enjoyed our time on the beach eating ceviche and other good seafood and partying with some people we met from Oregon. So all things considered, this was a good last stop for Peru.
Yesterday we took a bus from Peru to Guayaquil, Ecuador. When we crossed the border into Ecuador, I finally thought things looked like South America should. There were banana trees and jungle covered hills as far as I could see. When we arrived in Guayaquil, it seems just like any other big city down here. Last night it seemed much nicer to me when we walked to a place for dinner. In the light of day, however, it looks pretty crappy. At least the part near our hotel looks pretty gross. We are only here for a few days and then off to the Galapagos. We bought a cruise that was expensive for us, but pretty cheap as far as Galapagos cruises go. It is 8 days long and from all accounts of other travellers and guide books, we won´t be disappointed. We´re looking forward to that and I for one am looking forward to exploring Ecuador (assuming that it hasn´t been ruined by some hippy from Oregon (not the people from Mancora) that lived here some years ago).
We got off in the morning, got our bags out from under the bus and started walking towards what we hoped was an area with hotels. We hadn´t booked one ahead of time. After not walking very far we decided it would be best to ask someone at the bus stop where the hotels were. At this point they realised we thought we were in Mancora, but we were actually in Los Organos. Mancora is not a big town by any stretch, but apparently Los Organos has absolutely nothing. Apparently not even one hotel, because that tipped the lady at the bus station off that we were not where we thought we were. As the bus started to pull away someone caught the attention of the driver and he let us back on, now with our huge backpacks as carry-on luggage.
It was only like another 20 minutes or so to Mancora. When we got there, we were instantly bombarded with offers for a mototaxi. A mototaxi is a motorcycle that has been converted into a three-wheeled taxi with a bench for the passengers and a little rack on the back for luggage in case you didn´t know. There are approximately 238 mototaxis in Mancora. I only counted 147 tourists while we were there, so the market for taxis is already grossly over-saturated in case any of you were thinking of a career change. Our potential taxi driver pulled out a map with a list of hotels/straw huts in the area. We remembered the Casa Blanca from the vivamancora website and it was cheap (around $15 per night), so we had the guy take us there.
The room looked clean except for the dead bugs on the bed and the live ones in the bathroom, so we decided to stay there for a few days. There was a nice wide beach across the street with a great break that attracted only a handful of surfers each day. There were also a lot of bars and restaurants that line the back of the beach. It was nice to finally be somewhere warm and sunny after climbing around in the Andes and visiting cold places like Lake Titicaca.
In Mancora, the party starts around 10 or 11 and lasts from between 3 am and 8 am. We really only partook in this on Stef´s birthday, so the other nights we spent trying to fall asleep to music that sucked to bad to be played in the States and was exported to lands where people don´t know any better. Most nights we were so exhausted that that wouldn´t have mattered, but the constant reminder of biting bugs and the sound of rats in the thatch ceiling all combined to make for some pretty poor nights of sleeping. We enjoyed our time on the beach eating ceviche and other good seafood and partying with some people we met from Oregon. So all things considered, this was a good last stop for Peru.
Yesterday we took a bus from Peru to Guayaquil, Ecuador. When we crossed the border into Ecuador, I finally thought things looked like South America should. There were banana trees and jungle covered hills as far as I could see. When we arrived in Guayaquil, it seems just like any other big city down here. Last night it seemed much nicer to me when we walked to a place for dinner. In the light of day, however, it looks pretty crappy. At least the part near our hotel looks pretty gross. We are only here for a few days and then off to the Galapagos. We bought a cruise that was expensive for us, but pretty cheap as far as Galapagos cruises go. It is 8 days long and from all accounts of other travellers and guide books, we won´t be disappointed. We´re looking forward to that and I for one am looking forward to exploring Ecuador (assuming that it hasn´t been ruined by some hippy from Oregon (not the people from Mancora) that lived here some years ago).
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Machu Picchu... meh.
I wanted to title this blog Machu Sucku but I don’t think that is fair as everyone else that visited Machu Picchu yesterday found it to be awesome and inspiring, so I guess there is just something wrong with me. When we reached the first lookout of the site, right around dawn and after 4 days of hiking, this fat middle aged American guy reached for his fat middle aged American wife and said, “Ah, doesn’t this just make it all worth it?” I looked out of over the pile of rocks and thought back on the last four days and immediately reached the conclusion that I wanted to reach over and punch that guy in the throat. Lucky for him I was too sore to get to him. Moving on…
Chris and I arrived to Machu Picchu stinky and tired yesterday morning around 6:15am. We’d been up since 4am and hiking along the Inca Trail. We got to the first lookout just in time to meet up with all of the rich people that paid big bucks to stay at the 5 star hotel right next to the site, and they traipsed up the hill freshly pressed, well rested, uninjured, and smelling lovely. We were slimy and smelly and hobbling (well, I was hobbling). And to be fair, Machu Picchu is a feat of engineering and very interesting to look at and blah blah blah, but seriously, you do not need to walk up and down the damn Peruvian Andes for four days to see the stupid thing. You get just as much out of it if you take the train and bus up to the site… at least according to me. Plus it’s a lot cheaper than the $421 I blew to see it.
Everyday, the government allows 500 people to enter the Inca Trail for the four day hike. Chris and I went with Chaska Tours and we had 3 other people in our group, all from Holland. One couple was 60 and 66, and the other guy was single and 30. We set out at a very slow and easy pace with our guide Ivan. Also for our group, we had seven porters and one cook. The porters are insane with athletic ability. These guys carry at a maximum 25 kilos on their backs (everything from fuel, to tents, to food) and run and/or walk briskly in rubber sandals and no socks up and down the mountains to your next lunch or camp site. Doing the Inca Trail is spoiled camping because you arrive to each site to have lunch waiting and tents set up by the super porters. The first day we had trout and fresh grilled veggies for lunch, and I wish I could say it got better from there, but after that, it was a steady decline in food value and quantity.
Day Two is the hard day. And yes, it’s flippin hard. In my journal I called it What Goes Up Must Come Down because we had to walk up and over a mountain with a 4200 meter summit (approx. 13,776 feet). For Chris, it was What Goes Down Must Come Up because he woke up on Day Two and promptly puked about 5 times into a donkey pasture. It’s always a joy to listen to someone barfing at six in the morning next to your tent. We’re not sure if it was the food or the water or some Peruvian death bug, but Chris was pukey on the hardest day. But with no energy, he made it up the stupid pass. Our guide wasn’t around much that day and in the evening he finally introduced us to our porters after keeping them at a distance from us, which I thought was weird.
Day Three was the crying day. We had to walk about 15km and go up and over another pass. My knees hurt and my ankles kept rolling and at one point, I tripped and fell and banged my knee and cut my shin. And I cried. But just a little bit and they were tears of frustration and hatred and not tears of pain and therefore I did not break Chris’ No Crying While Hiking rule, although he’ll say that I did. When I was on the ground with a hurt leg it dawned on me that I did not need to go trekking or camping ever again. I hate it and I will always hate it and that’s it. I brought this stupid Inca Trail trip on myself but no more, I’m done. If Chris wants to walk up a mountain in Ecuador or Colombia in the next two months, I will silently cheer him on from the hotel while watching cable.
So I was a bit grumpy and not that into the whole thing. The final night, the porters were brought out again and this time we were supposed to give them money. It was forced and awkward and I guess we didn’t tip enough because for our final morning (at 4AM) our last meal was one piece of stale bread with a small piece of dried up cheese in the center. Woo hoo. I looked at the other camper’s meals and they had delicious piles of pancakes and toast and eggs and one group even had cake. Cake! So Chaska Tours is getting a strongly worded letter in a few days, I hate it when people mess with my food.
Anyway, I have more MP rants, but right now I have to board a bus for a town in Peru called Mancora. Chris and I flew from Cusco to Lima this morning and our bus is leaving shortly. Happily, this bus company had wifi in their station so I can finally post pics from Cusco and Lake Titicaca. Machu Picchu is coming soon.
Chris and I have our birthdays to celebrate this Saturday and next Saturday and are looking forward to 29 and 31… well, not really, but whatever.
Chris and I arrived to Machu Picchu stinky and tired yesterday morning around 6:15am. We’d been up since 4am and hiking along the Inca Trail. We got to the first lookout just in time to meet up with all of the rich people that paid big bucks to stay at the 5 star hotel right next to the site, and they traipsed up the hill freshly pressed, well rested, uninjured, and smelling lovely. We were slimy and smelly and hobbling (well, I was hobbling). And to be fair, Machu Picchu is a feat of engineering and very interesting to look at and blah blah blah, but seriously, you do not need to walk up and down the damn Peruvian Andes for four days to see the stupid thing. You get just as much out of it if you take the train and bus up to the site… at least according to me. Plus it’s a lot cheaper than the $421 I blew to see it.
Everyday, the government allows 500 people to enter the Inca Trail for the four day hike. Chris and I went with Chaska Tours and we had 3 other people in our group, all from Holland. One couple was 60 and 66, and the other guy was single and 30. We set out at a very slow and easy pace with our guide Ivan. Also for our group, we had seven porters and one cook. The porters are insane with athletic ability. These guys carry at a maximum 25 kilos on their backs (everything from fuel, to tents, to food) and run and/or walk briskly in rubber sandals and no socks up and down the mountains to your next lunch or camp site. Doing the Inca Trail is spoiled camping because you arrive to each site to have lunch waiting and tents set up by the super porters. The first day we had trout and fresh grilled veggies for lunch, and I wish I could say it got better from there, but after that, it was a steady decline in food value and quantity.
Day Two is the hard day. And yes, it’s flippin hard. In my journal I called it What Goes Up Must Come Down because we had to walk up and over a mountain with a 4200 meter summit (approx. 13,776 feet). For Chris, it was What Goes Down Must Come Up because he woke up on Day Two and promptly puked about 5 times into a donkey pasture. It’s always a joy to listen to someone barfing at six in the morning next to your tent. We’re not sure if it was the food or the water or some Peruvian death bug, but Chris was pukey on the hardest day. But with no energy, he made it up the stupid pass. Our guide wasn’t around much that day and in the evening he finally introduced us to our porters after keeping them at a distance from us, which I thought was weird.
Day Three was the crying day. We had to walk about 15km and go up and over another pass. My knees hurt and my ankles kept rolling and at one point, I tripped and fell and banged my knee and cut my shin. And I cried. But just a little bit and they were tears of frustration and hatred and not tears of pain and therefore I did not break Chris’ No Crying While Hiking rule, although he’ll say that I did. When I was on the ground with a hurt leg it dawned on me that I did not need to go trekking or camping ever again. I hate it and I will always hate it and that’s it. I brought this stupid Inca Trail trip on myself but no more, I’m done. If Chris wants to walk up a mountain in Ecuador or Colombia in the next two months, I will silently cheer him on from the hotel while watching cable.
So I was a bit grumpy and not that into the whole thing. The final night, the porters were brought out again and this time we were supposed to give them money. It was forced and awkward and I guess we didn’t tip enough because for our final morning (at 4AM) our last meal was one piece of stale bread with a small piece of dried up cheese in the center. Woo hoo. I looked at the other camper’s meals and they had delicious piles of pancakes and toast and eggs and one group even had cake. Cake! So Chaska Tours is getting a strongly worded letter in a few days, I hate it when people mess with my food.
Anyway, I have more MP rants, but right now I have to board a bus for a town in Peru called Mancora. Chris and I flew from Cusco to Lima this morning and our bus is leaving shortly. Happily, this bus company had wifi in their station so I can finally post pics from Cusco and Lake Titicaca. Machu Picchu is coming soon.
Chris and I have our birthdays to celebrate this Saturday and next Saturday and are looking forward to 29 and 31… well, not really, but whatever.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Machu Picchu Bound
Tomorrow morning Chris and I set out for our four day hike to Machu Picchu. We'll be knee deep in high altitude hiking and ruins and nature. Hopefully it goes OK and hopefully its not a waste of money. We've heard some horror stories but our tour operator Chaska seems like a decent company. After that, we fly out on Thursday for Lima and then we'll catch a bus to Mancora on the north coast of Peru. I required some beach time for my birthday... which is June 7th, by the way.
Hopefully some day soon we can upload our photos and get you caught up on that end. Check back later in the week for the Machu Picchu recap.
Hopefully some day soon we can upload our photos and get you caught up on that end. Check back later in the week for the Machu Picchu recap.
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