The Party Never Ends in Perú

Thursday September 25. Huanchaco, Peru.



The bright sun doesn’t let me sleep in very late. We eat our breakfasts looking over the ocean. Mmmm… fresh tropical fruit, a girl could get used to this.




I found the market by accident. Smaller than in other cities, but well stocked with plenty of fruits, veggies, and meats. I got the makings of a great lunch for only a few dollars. Down by the beach, the wind was fierce and gave me goosebumbs. We climbed up to the church on a hill for the view of sand-colored houses and blue ocean. By afternoon, the sun was full and bright. I lay in the sun, half-asleep listening to the waves.

Huanchaco is a surfing town. When we walk down the street, the store owners will come out to try to sell us a day of surfing. They’ll even come across the street to get us! Nate’s not feeling great and I don’t want to try surfing on my own, so I stick to swimming. But I don’t last long in the chilly water.

We share the kitchen at dinner time. On the menu: a hearty potato, carrot, rice soup with fresh bread. And some eggs and avocados.

Beer for me. Fanta for Nate. Playing card games for both of us. Early night to prepare for an early morning.

Friday September 26. Huanchaco, Peru.

The alarm demands attention at 6:40am. We struggle out of bed and into warm clothes. The sky is light as we head down to the pier. Our breakfast glides to shore in a tiny one-person boat. We crowd around with about 5 other people. I point to the one I want, cuánto cuesta? 3 soles as he hands me the catch. Tada! Our breakfast is served!

But... um… slight problem as neither Nate or I know how to gut the fish or fillet it properly. We take it to the market, put a pathetic look on our faces and tell a stall owner that we don’t know how to clean the fish. One guy overhears our conversation, grabs the fish and a knife and heads outside. Outside the market he scales the fish with quick sporatic flicks of the knife into the back of a garbage truck. Next he slices it open and starts taking all the gooey fish parts out. When he’s finished, he rinses it and sticks it in the bag. We smile and thank him. What an awesome friendly man! We grab some bread and head back to cook our fish!

But… um… slight problem as neither Nate or I know how to fillet or cook fish. We take the kitchen’s dull, but only knife and set to work. I messily start taking the fish apart. Whack! First the head. Slice. Then the fins and bones. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but it worked. Give me a few more tries and I’ll have it down.

Mmmm… within an hour the fish came out of the water and was on our plates. Can’t get any fresher than that! And it was tender and delicious with a little bit of lime and salt.

After such an early morning, a nap was in order. Nate wasn’t feeling superb, so he slept until a pancake breakfast gave him enough sugar to perk up. With our bags packed, we hopped on a Trujillo-bound combi. It bounced along mercilessly tossing us around its metallic insides. We clung tightly to our bags since we had heard some rumors about shifty characters patrolling these combis. Even though the bus was mostly filled with school children, you can never be too careful.


The ayudante let us know when we arrived at the intersection of España and Independencia. We walked the three blocks in search of a specific hostel. We got a room on the top floor with a communal balcony.



A perimeter walk got us to the Plaza de Armas. The streets were hectic and left me feeling rather claustrophobic. We finally found a restaurant for dinner. After buying some munchie supplies from the supermercado, we settled in our hotel room to watch Barack Obama trounce John McCain in the first presidential debate.

Saturday, September 27. Trujillo, Peru


We woke up lazily. We turned our backs on the pricey tourist breakfast places and found some empanadas for breakfast. A parade went by on the calle de independencia.



A taxi took us to the bus company office of American Express. We caught a grungy bus for Chimbato. I asked the driver to let us off near the colectivos to Casma. We hopped a colectivo and sped off.

Why are we going to Casma? Well, it cuts our trip to Lima by a third and nobody likes long bus rides. Plus, there are some well preserved ruins of Sechín to go to near there. We pulled into town and got dropped off at the door of our hostel.

Lunch at a restaurante chifa (chinese food) with very friendly owners. mmm... Peruvian word of the day, tallarín= pasta. I had thought it was some kind of meat!

The sun was setting as we walked the streets looking for a bike-rental place. All of a sudden we heard a very accented "hello, how are you?" We are used to that by now. People always throw whatever English they have at Nate, but this guy seemed nice enough. We stopped and talked.

The guy's name was Peter and he was a moto-rickshaw driver. We stood there talking for a while. He said that he would find bikes for us. He sped off and we returned to our hotel room.

That night there was a parade (every night is a party here in Peru!) with firecrackers and everything. We followed it for a while, exploring a new part of town. On the walk back to the hotel, we got a couple DVDs.

Peter picked us up and we saw the bikes. Bargained. Test rode them. Bargained. At the end everyone was satisfied. It was settled we'd start biking at 9am!

Went to bed promptly after we watched a Colombian movie.