From Trujillo, I catch a night bus to Máncora. Sheenie was detouring to find volunteer work elsewhere… until we reached Trujillo, and the weather forecast for elsewhere was shitty. Incoming, Máncora.

Máncora is a small, touristy, beach town, on the coast of northern Peru. There isn’t much to do, besides surf, kite surf, swim and relax. No altitude either!

First night in, I go partying at Loki with Josh’s Irish friend, Kieren. End up getting blazed in a lifeguard tower with some locals, walking along the beach, sitting around a bonfire outside our hostel where a spanish hippie dude looks deep into my eyes and says he loves me…. In the morning, I woke up without my new Sketcher sandals yet with the urge to vomit… which I did, several times before lunch. May have to now buy Birkenstock’s after all. At lunch, I attempt to order ceviche, minus the fish and with extra sweet potato (not the first time I’ve tried this). No surprise, the request is declined and laughed at… never have liked raw fish… just love the onion, lime and sweet potato…. could call it, vegan ceviche.

On the beach, a guy invites me to join him for a freshly cooked batch of San Pedro at his camp… I respond with a maybe (don’t worry Mum, I didn’t partake).

Final night in Máncora and our hostel is doing BBQ ribs. Looked good, tasted mierda (shit). The meat (mainly gristle) is so tough, cutting it up qualifies as a work out. Unsatisfied, I return to the dorm where Josh asks, “so how was the BBQ? I’ll go down now”. Sheenie and I advise Josh against the BBQ. I go with Josh into town to cleanse my pallet and find something edible. Figure I may as well try ordering Ceviche sin pescado y mucho camotes. Third time is a charm. Leaving Máncora on a positive culinary note.

In summary, Máncora has provided a couple of sweet sunsets, the opportunity to run, some big nights out and chill days.

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