Mancora

Mancora. What can I say? This place has a nickname 'summer forever' and that is exactly it, not a cloud in the sky, ever. It's the sort of place that if locals saw a cloud they'd be running indoors with tins of beans and sheepskin coats.
The 9 hour bus ride was almost pain free, just having to put up with a sugar filled fatty that kept shouting gringo at me and laughing with all of her friends, I had my trusty ear plugs, so in they went and off I slept.

We piled in to Mancora and I was whizzed around town by Dani on his tuk tuk with 2 speakers bigger than the wheels blaring out horrendous RnB music which I'm sure he thought I wanted, at 7am I was attracting a lot of attention already. Dani took me to a couple of interesting hostels one of which the guy showed me round and kept opening each door of the rooms by reaching in the window and opening the door..... I don't expect fork knocks but at least a lock would be nice... 'Ok dani I said, I think we can go a little but more upscale now' dani showed me to a more than lovely hostel seconds away from the beach, nice and quiet, wifi. Lovely.

With 28-30 degree heat everyday comes slooooooooow mentality, and coming from Lima it took a good few days to come down to this way of life, no one really works here, I mean, they work obviously but not hard, not hard at all. I dumped my bag, walked to the beach and assessed my surroundings for a few hours, this place was nice. Blue sky's, big waves and the soft sand between my toes, I took a few hours that morning to lay, breath and empty my head.

I decided to go for a walk after I'd had a few words with myself. Mancora is made up of 2 streets that have restaurants, bars and juice making places, each roof is made of dried out palm leaves and the walls are bamboo that then are covered with cement. Everyone is trying to make a living here and I'm sure the tourists are just walking cash points to them, and with that you do get a lot of locals trying to sell you sunglasses, sarongs and general crap you don't need, they don't pester you, in fact I admire there business nature, it's a poor place and a mans got to eat.
I don't want to come repetitive my friends but the fruit juice bars are ridiculous, anything you want whizzed up into a weekend spa break in a glass. 

My favourite is at Banana Cafe, 6/s for Banana, orange and strawberry juice, that's about £1.40 the glass is huge and it's my breakfast. 

I decided to take a trip to Loki hostel, recommended by my dear friend Feesty as the party place, as I walked through the beach and into Loki it was blaring house music, people talking loudly about how late they were up and who they woke up next to, it had party written all over it and I immediately felt like I was going to see Feesty step off the bar stool with a fag and a Pisco sour right then and there. I thought it'd be a great place to start, meet some people and ask about some Spanish lessons, they introduced me to there in-house Spanish teacher Luz. Luz as I will later learn was an angel sent from whoever has my back up there in heaven. I met Luz, a purified, earth angel who truly believes in good energy and karma. The kind of person that similes and its impossible not to smile too, Luz did her Spanish lesson sales pitch however once I told her I was planning on staying in mancora for a while and that I was an English teacher she threw down her books and pen and at that moment she became my friend.  I could tell she was a bit of a fitness lady as she had quite defined arms, immediately making me feel guilty for the two chicken sandwiches I'd eaten on the bus. She asked me if I wanted to body board in the morning on the beach, be there at 8.30am Luz said (Christ!) a bit early but hey ho let's get involved.

I slightly regretted going out until 3am that night with a bunch of people from my hostel as my alarm went off and I thought someone was playing a very very sick joke on me, no no it was no joke I was off to the beach with a sledgehammer lodged between my eyes. Luz wasn't joking, there she was with her factor 50 lotion, wet suit and paddle flip-flop things, all I had was my ray bans my primark scarf and last nights g&t breath. There she was running in to the ocean and I was beginning to think I should of stayed in bed. 

After the heart attack induced bonding session Luz introduced me to what felt like the whole of Mancora. All sorts of people from the man that sold the coconuts to the people that give massages on the beach, I felt so lucky I'd met this beautiful lady, I was indeed rolling around like a dog with flees. 'I'll take you to the local school I think they need an English teacher' great I replied, this is just what I wanted and to get it so soon I felt so lucky. Luz took me into the school, wow..... The most basic building I have ever clapped my eyes on! It was bricks, white boards, chairs and that's it. They were so happy to meet me, and the fact that I was a native English speaker was just so rare to them. Luz translated, no one in the school spoke any English, including the children, NADA - nothing. I started the following Monday.

I arrived here September 11th and to be honest the last 3 weeks has been an extreme relaxation period. I've been introduced to ashtang yoga by Sarah and jimmy, yoga isn't something I considered before but here it just feels right, running isn't the sport here, neither is anything too strenuous! 90 minutes of yoga on the beach 6 days a week at 7.30am followed by a dip in the sea, it's perfect and jimmy and Sarah have taken me under there wing and treated me like family, it's heart warming and something you just don't get by staying in hostel after hostel. Jimmy is from Cusco Peru and Sarah is from London, they live an incredible and simple life which I admire, they are holistic therapists and do treatments on the beach 10am - 1pm every day, they make all there meals from scratch and love copious amounts of rum when the feeling takes them, they are kind and selfless and its heated up my heart better than a log fire on a winters day.

Days come and go, it's filled with sun hazed afternoons listening to reggae and Latino music with a very cold beer in hand wondering what I want to be when I grow up, I've met more people with dreadlocks than I ever thought was possible within 3 weeks, and every single person has something amazing to offer, whether its there travelling tips in Colombia or ceviche at there home with new friends.
I feel a change inside that feels good, simplicity reigns right now and I'm enjoying it.
Until next time.......

Adventure begins...

I need to pay homage to the fruit and vegetables (Ashley look away now) each and every beautifully grown masterpiece is a wonder on the lips, sensational on the tongue and a erotic dance in the stomach (too much 50 shades of Grey?) The avocados are amazing, I just crack one open for a snack and it's almost creamy...... Just amazing. I'm pretty sure I've over dosed on fruit because each morning I juice 6 oranges to accompany my breakfast of bananas, berries and grenadine..... I need to reel it in but I can't.... 

Well I had what felt like a devastating blow, or should I say blows the past few weeks, these blows I'd like to mention has urged me to travel the north of Peru.... But that can wait until later.

I had a job offer from a Peruvian Cellar Trends basically. A wine and spirits importer dealing with the best hotels and restaurants right across Lima, I'd have to regularly visit Cusco to there other office (win) also, the owner Enrique tells me he will pay me to learn all the wines and the Spanish language (win) he would give me time obviously but I was going to be paid to drink wine and learn Spanish... I couldn't believe my luck, my interview was on the Friday morning, Enrique wanted me, he was so impressed with my forward thinking ideas and European head on me, he very much believed I could transform the way some of his sales team thought (win). 'Go away and think about it' Enrique told me. Monday morning comes and I've had two sleeps on it, I'm taking the job, of course I am!! 

I thought I'd impress Enrique with my professionalism and prove my negotiation skills by emailing him a few questions, normal stuff you would expect (I think) like, can I see a contract? Could your company sort my work permit so I can work legally, and last but no means least, would you be willing to contribute to my Spanish lessons, explaining that I'd be willing to learn the language every waking hour until I'm good enough to go out there on my own. Well, Enrique didn't like Victoria's 'demands' and very kindly told me to 'jog on' Peruvian style (lose.)

Without dwelling on that too much longer, negativity is not my game these days. I though fuck it, let's go on a trip. So here I am, Huanchaco (before you ask it's not the same place as before.) I'm travelling by bus from Lima up the coast, I will end up in Mancora (thanks for the tip Feesty) full of travellers apparently and a bit of a party town, surfers paradise and warm all year round due to it being close to the equator. Once I am there I hope to meet some 'far out dudes' that may want me to join them for a week or two and perhaps pop in to Ecuador, I'm told this is very common, people teaming up and going on to somewhere else, at least I hope so! I'm in need of some fun in the sun, not that I havent had it but I think I got myself caught up in the job stuff a bit quick, I worked my butt off saving for this adventure and I want to spend some!

The thought of meeting new people excites me, I feel the need to be inspired, calmed, educated and challenged.... 

I took a bus from Lima over night last night, 80 soles (£19) and 9hours later I am at my first stop, just for the day, the beach is an old fisherman's village watching the surfers and the world go by.

Tonight I take a 40 soles (£9) 10 hour bus to Mancora, I'll arrive there and then make my decision from there depending on who I meet, what I want, how I feel, and how deep I can get my tan. It's 28 degrees there and 19 at night, I'm going to roll around in that like a dog with flees...

Dunes, buggy's & inappropriate footwear

Haucachina desert, wow, what an enchanting and magical place. I hesitated when the owner if the hostel offered me 'bugging and sandboarding' I don't know why, the 'adventure' hormone was lost that day but deep inside something kicked me up the arse and thankfully I said yes! 4pm we strapped into the 'desert adventure' buggy and by the formula 1 style seat belts I started to wonder whether I should have worn a bra for this.

4pm was much more of a sensible time to travel through the desert, much better than the 2pm post lunch stroll I decided to take up the sand dunes in my strapless dress and Haviana flip flops, I confidently power walked it up the dune to very quickly realise how fucking hot this sand actually was. What was I thinking? But I'm quarter of the way up now and people can see me from there sunbeds at the bottom near the oasis, I can't give up now I told myself, I'm blonde and pale but I can do this!!

Two and half minutes in to the mental boost I gave myself , I gave up, and 'Bridget Jones' style slipped all the way back down to the bottom with nothing but embarrassment and burns.

I was safe inside the buggy, strapped in and ready for a nice little drive. I should of known by looking at the transformer style truck that this was going to be bumpy and fast. It was. Ripping through the sand dunes was exhilarating, some parts we were practically vertical driving up the side of the sandy mountains, it was, I knew going to be an experience I would never forget. As we stopped to sand board down the side of a dune I knew I'd have to be brave, this looked scary. We climbed the rest if the way the buggy couldn't make and we were standing at the top now, the sun on my back not a cloud in the sky, I was going to conquer this bloody dune and love it. There were 3 ways which you could board, on your feet (much like snow boarding) on your bum (like a sledge) or on your tummy (like a wimp) I went for the safe option, tummy.

I was like a bird! Free and alone, in that moment I felt amazing. 3 more times we 'rode' the dunes, in between each stop we sped through the desert faster than before. At 5.30pm was sunset, we pulled up at what seemed like a pathway leading straight to the sun. We sat and watched, each person on the buggy separating themselves from each other to be alone in their thoughts, couples wrapping their arms round each other, it was beautiful the sun sank as quick as that, but watching it was better than any film I'd ever seen.

Plunged in to darkness and winter it felt as nighttime is a cold, cold time in the desert, we quickly revved up, strapped up and sped back to our hostel where I treated myself to a stiff Pisco Sour and apologised to my un-scaffolded chest for that unforeseen roller coaster ride.

Back tomorrow I think, a day in the sunshine and up sticks back to Lima. I have to get a job, and I have to find a decent place to stay......

Midnight at the oasis - Photos

Midnight at the Oasis

Lima is big. Think big, then think really really big - no bigger than that.... 700km across. I haven't walked across it yet obviously, my Peruvian hero Samoel told me and that's better than google as far as I'm concerned.


Lima is cold. It's winter. I already knew it was winter but I imagined a pashmina over the shoulders type winter not, having to borrow alpaca goods to sleep at night type winter! As us Brits know, the 'summer' we had was as about as exciting as diarrhoea so you can imagine I was salivating at the bit to get my whiter than white skin out in the afternoon winter sun and work my way up to South American turbo charged spring summer. But no, it's cold and I am shamefully letting it get me down a tad. After day 4 I started to actively seek sunnier climes to pull myself out of the temporary disappointment I'd let myself slip in to. 'Haucichina' another Peruvian told me over a rather delicious lamb and rice dish I enjoyed at the Lima Cricket Club, it's in the middle of the desert, an oasis he tells me. Less than 1 minute later I'm all over it on google, images, weather, bus times - I'm booked, I'm in, I'm going.


But back to Lima. My Peruvian hero Samoel a.k.a Indiana Jones knows everything about Lima, which only makes me more confused. No one walks in Lima apparently, it's just not the done thing, but when I decide to take a walk to desperately get my bearings (I still haven't) I get about a taxi per 30 seconds stopping next to me and hooting there horn because 'no one walks in Lima' and taxis assume you need one. BUT when my Indiana Jones hails a cab he chooses them so carefully, waving some on and dismissing others, they all look exactly the same but he tells me that some are just so dodgy and will rip you off as soon as look at you. I feel like tortoise retracting back in my shell as hailing the cab is more difficult than communicating with them, I'm in and out of taxis like a fairground ride looking for 1 that might speak just a small amount of English. One things for sure, I'll be learning Spainish much sooner than I first thought, Monday infact. I can't bare the 'you fucking stupid British girl' looks any longer, this isn't marbs, this isn't Barcelona and this definitely isn't Ali Cante, if you don't speak Spanish you don't get served - love. 


'Do you want sugar with that?' no I bloody don't want sugar with that and you can take out the 3 sugars you assume I wanted when I ordered this coffee. Jeeeewiz they like sugar here, everything even the local beer is packed full of it. No wonder the women here have a rubber ring round there middle. I laugh when I see old people sitting in the street just scoffing cake, it's like afternoon tea but without the tea or the sandwiches. 


My next plan of action is finding a room for myself 180$ per month can't be bad in the best part of town Miraflores, and then getting a job. One of my biggest jaw droppers were the amount of schools here, wow. There must be a school on every street, I don't know where all the children come from but lucky me, I'm in jackpot city when it come to my chosen profession. I'm keen to start working so I can establish a routine and some friends to open up my social circle. 

But here I am in Huacachina (left), slightly burnt sitting on my 15$ a night rooms veranda writing to you and feeling great that the future is still unknown. Whatever lows will come highs and I'm positive about my adventure, proud every day that I've made the move. 



With my guardian angel on my bag (thanks Sarah) I know my jigsaw will come together:

Sand boarding tomorrow.......... And with that I'm sure another blog.

Vx

Hello Lima, my name is Victoria

Well here I am - Lima. What a ride it was, 4 flights in 24 hours is quite interesting, first on the skin and secondly for the positions you're willing to sleep in - dignity has been left at passport control as I've got my legs open, mouth open half dribbling with a scarf wrapped round my head, orange ear plugs in with a G&T resting in my palm. Long haul isn't in Vogue - fact.


Heathrow T1 was great, you don't need me to tell you, Pret a manger - great. Swarovski - great. Mac - great. French connection - brilliant. Little did I know my short peruse at heathrow was as good as it was going to get in the next 24 hours.......


I arrive in Frankfurt all smug as I'd slept the whole 1 hour it took to get there, armed with my 'Victoria' pillow (thanks Em) I look at my schedule, 'lovely' I think to myself 2 whole hours until my next take off, I might do some shopping, get some breakfast, find a wifi spot maybe. Then it dawned on me as we encountered a stupidly slow disembark, NO Victoria, the schedule is in LOCAL time, you have 1 hour NOT 2! Shit. 1 hour to get off this Airbus 320, get through passport control, switch terminals, go through the liquid crazy security checks, AND check in for my flight. So, I do what only can be described as military style ducking, diving, and weaving through the crowds at Frankfurt International to get to my flight to Suan Juan. Pheeeeew. The que for the passport checks at pre-board  are massive, I've got time to wipe the beads of sweat from my forehead, drink some water and if I'm lucky maybe even fit a wee in (I'm desperate.) after having quite an interesting chat about Berlin with the lady in front (not managing to fit in the wee) we realise how ridiculous this que is, why is it taking so long!!? Well In keeping with usual standards at airports - no one, apart from the people at the front knew what the hell was going on.


Finally we (me and Berlin lady) got closer, we realised some serious shit was going down. People were being moved ques, and worse, being told they couldn't board. My heart started to pump quite hard now and I'm trying to remember if Ive broken the law in the last 2 years. My passport gets checked, I get moved ques. Oh no.


Once I finally get to the front of that que I quickly realise a cleavage and a smile will not help me at all. The lady checking my passport looks fierce, she looks like J-lo when she try's to be 'Jenny from the block' - J-Lo asks me if I have an 'Esta', Esta? I reply. She replys in her 'from the block' tone, 'yes the visa in which you're are required to have to enter the United States Of America' I'm clutching my Victoria pillow and put my best 'please don't hate me' voice on and reply 'I'm only in transit, I'm not even leaving the airport.' she tells me it doesn't matter, and I must leave the airport, visit the Visa desk, acquire a visa, and come back. The plane leaves in 20 minutes. Double fuck. J-lo tells me the plane will not wait.


Well. I was like Mo farah, I ran my little socks off, I tuned on the water works which must of saved me about 30 minutes at each security point. By the way, I had to do all the ridiculous liquid checks again plus I STILL NEEDED A WEE.


Honestly, it was awful. I've never wanted someone to help me quite so much as I did right in that moment.


I was convinced I wasn't going to make it. Stupid visa people charged me $60 for this torture, once I acquired this ridiculous piece if paper, water works went back on and I Usuain Bolted back to the flight. I made it. Phew. Massive, massive Phew.


I was on the flight, I got to the door and one of the last passengers to board and I ask the tanned man, can I use the loo? He replied 'is it desperate?' I nearly punched him.


As I took my seat, I thought, blimey this is a bit of alright, I couldn't work out if I was really really happy to be here or was this...... Hang on..... I'VE BEEN UPGRADED! Oh me oh my I'm in Premium Economy AND I'm in the middle 3 seats alone! If those doors shut and I have these three seats on the longest leg of this trip my faith will be restored and I'll kiss this ridiculous Esta and forget all about it. 'Boarding completed' the cabin crew announce YEEEEESSSS! Spread out, G&T, 50 Shades of Gray - lovely.


We're at 35,000 ft and I'm having a lovely time. Then Berlin woman approaches me, 'I've got the worst seat, it doesn't even recline and I've got back problems' I'm thinking, do I or don't I offer Berlin lady a seat. I've known her for 5 minutes, we had a brief chat about Berlin, I was happy for the company in the queue but right now, I want to be alone. Then I here myself say, oh come and sit here your more than welcome (DAM YOU Tripp!) My 3 seat upgrade dream was short lived as we talked about Berlin and her 3 children, 2 of them look like her, 1 doesn't (joy.)


San Juan. 3 hours until next flight. Yes, loads of time, recline, wifi maybe and little walk around this half decent airport. We all expected the long queue as it was 'The Untied States Of America'  (said in a loud obnoxious way) I had my Esta, I had some sleep, bring it on San Juan. Halfway through the ridiculous passport control queue the little man comes out from his box, armed with a baton and a gun (really!?) he announces 'Ladies and Gentlemen, you will need to collect your luggage from baggage reclaim and re-check it for your connecting flights, whatever your airline told you about your luggage going to your final destination they were lying'  ok, that's ok that's do-able, 46kg of luggage to wheel but that fine, maybe I'll have to put my Victoria pillow away I'm not sure I can carry that as well. I'm at the conveyabelt, people come, people leave, people come, people leave, the conveyabelt stops. My bags are not there. Shit..... Drama round 2 as I cry my way through this stopover also. What an emotional roller coaster but the ever-so-helpful man tells me I can make my claim in Lima as that is my final destination. 'Relax' I say to myself, worst things have happened. You're not dead, you're not hurt, and you're on the way to Peru. 


The next two legs were fairly pain free, 'me-time' and 'wifi-time' between flights was just a dream I had, I spent each connection running my arse off. 


When I finally got to Lima with one hugely bloated tummy, my Victoria pillow and a fresh set of clothes I made my baggage claim to the 'couldn't-give-a-flying-fuck-about your-bags-man' helped me as much as you would expect for 1am local time. 


I was through in to arrivals where I'd hope all my adventures would come true, I swallowed my tears of pride for myself walked through the doors and felt the warm breeze on my skin. Hello Lima, my name is Victoria.