"Senor, I just want to buy a spare seat to Mancora, I don't want any problems." I said in Spanish, as I slowly stepped back on to the curb at the immigration office, trying to keep my (by now perfected) dopey gringo smile plastered to my face. This was a bit more difficult that usual because a man in a bullet proof vest was using his shotgun to wave me back. I called out again in decent Spanish, "Amigo, solo quiero preguntar cual es possible para comprar una silla en este bus directo a Mancora."
He gruffly responded, and pointed his shotgun towards the sign behind me with rates to the next town, Tumbes via taxi. I usually try to be "economico" about most of my travels, but as I backed away I decided that this might be the right time to splurge $12 for a taxi. What the hell, I'm on vacation right?
Don't get me wrong, Cuenca was amazing, but after a few days I had decided to leave and head south to Peru and warmth. I did my research. I saw on several travel blogs that the busses direct for Mancora only run at 7:30am and 10am. Being a gringo, I made it to the terminal with plenty of time to spare. I was just in time... to be told that the busses had changed in the last few weeks and now only ran at 10pm. Since I prefer not to cross borders at night, and I was antsy to get a move on, I decided to figure it out myself.
I caught a bus to the border town of Huanquillas. After several hours driving through stunning mountain landscapes we descended to the banana dominated coastal plains and arrived in Huanquillas in the heat of the late afternoon sun. I decided to push on to Mancora immediately, since the soonest a direct bus left was apparently 3am. I snagged a taxi who would take me to the immigration office, where I received the usual hassel about not looking anything like my passport photo (apparently losing weight, putting on glasses, and growing a beard makes you look a bit different. Who woulda thought...). Then I went in search of a seat on a bus.... which leads me to the man with the shotgun from the start of this story.
I ended up sharing a taxi with some Ecuadorian students who found my mishap quite amusing. We joked about it and talked about the current Ecuadorian president until we reached the terminal. From there I figured it would be an easy hop an hour down the one main road to Mancora. However, a serious official insisted that there were absolutely no busses in the history of all that was holy that went from Tumbes to Mancora. He told me I would need a taxi, but that he knew a guy that only would charge me $120. The only alternative, according to him, was a minibus that was very dangerous. I figured that even if I got robbed I would still lose less than getting bent over by a taxi. I thanked him and turned to go, and just then he called out to a departing bus driver, "Mancora? Mancora? Ok, go with him, its direct to Mancora, only 20 soles!"
A bit annoyed, but happy to be on my way again, I hopped on the bus and asked the guy next to me how much I should pay. 7 soles maximum. Gotta love Peru. The rest of the ride was uneventful, and I arrived at Mancora in time to check in to the world famous Loki hostel (which is basically a club med/nightclub with dorms). I met a couple of my roomies, a German named Phillip and an Argentinian with a great British accent named Exequiel . We hung out that night at the masquerade party hosted by the bar, until I slipped off to bed to sleep off my bus ride and get ready to enjoy the beach! Welcome to Mancora!
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| The beautiful city of Cuenca, as we depart for the border. |
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| A beautiful traditional roof, with a terracotta sheep worn down by generations of wind and rain. |
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| A proud Ecuadorian flag guarding the mountain pass as our bus wound its way through the barren mountains. |
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| The beautiful mountains of Ecuador, barren rock covered in yellow flowers. |
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| The beautiful countryside right outside of Cuenca |
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| The endless banana fields of the Ecuadorian coast. Hours and hours of bananas only punctuated by small towns and local "Nightclubs" (aka brothels) |
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| An Ecuadorian family in a small town perched on the edge of the road, overlooking a perilous plunge into the ravine below. |
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| A line of mixed shots, "Blood Bombs" at Loki, stretching across the massive bar, awaited me in Peru. |
