Sorry for the language but this was a saying on many t-shirts in Mancora and with reason. I first heard of Mancora on a fancy Cruz del Sur bus from Lima to Arequipa. A fancy bus was needed for the 15 hour over night journey. They showed a tourist program on the television displaying the beaches of Peru. A beautiful Peruvian girl was the host. She mentioned all the fantastic things to do in Mancora; you can surf, take a boat ride and even do a photo shoot. She then parading around Mancora and wiggled in the sand making ridiculous poses for her DIY photo shoot. It was so cheesy I knew from that moment I had to go to Mancora just to make a photo shoot for myself.
When I was in the beach village of Huanchaco other travellers were giving me their impressions of Mancora. They said it was very touristic and the only reason to go would be to surf or party. Quite a few people didn’t like Mancora at all. Huanchaco is a beautiful beach where you mostly find gorgeous surfers and local tourists. Its calm and I was camping in a little garden oasis. It’s also known for the Pescadores (fishermen) who still fish like they did years ago in Caballitos de Tortora (little horses of reeds), which are boats made out of reeds. You can take a ride in the surf with them for a small fee. Caballitos, ceviche and a calm oasis were fantastic but after the lack of party in Huaraz I was ready for some action so I headed off on a night bus with four Americans to Mancora.
We arrived at 5:00am to an empty beach which a few people who looked like they were still partying from the night before. After finding a hotel and getting some much deserved rest I parked myself on the beach near some good looking Argentineans with a guitar. They soon came over to chat with me (like clockwork). That’s when it started; the Argentineans had an endless supply of wine which we drank out of a melon with sugar and ice. It was fantastic and tasted like Kool-aid. The American guys found me and joined in on the Melon passing. We then also acquired a coconut which we added rum to. An afternoon on the beach became seven hour of sipping out of a melon in the same spot. Dinner was 2 liters of beer and a burger which was followed by a dessert; shots of pure Pisco. The bar beside our hotel had live music which started at midnight, where more beers were consumed. Hours later the beach bars thumped reggeaton until the early hours of the morning. We all woke up the next morning wondering what happened the night before. Chris was convinced someone had taking his wallet, took the cash but put the rest back and put his cards in a different pocket. Uh huh sure.
A few more days of this followed until I decided to get the feck out of Mancora to what I thought would be a calmer beach in Ecuador, Montanita. Little did I know Mancora is not a Puta Madre at all! It’s a small innocent child compared to the insanity of Montanita. Before I get ahead of myself and jump into Ecuador there was the case of the border crossing into Ecuador….
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