Greetings from Mancora, Peru which is on the Pacific coast, just below Tumbes. We arrived at the Peru border from Ecuador this morning. What an experience that was! The border is sandwiched between two of the seediest towns in Latin America. On the Ecuador side is the glowing metropolis of Hauquillas, teeming with hordes of “colorful locals”, and on the Peru side is Zarmulla, another “jewel” of the Latin America.
We stayed in another really bad town last night, called Santa Rosa, just north of the border. Border towns always seem to be shitty, I’m not really sure why we stayed there, but the room was cheap and we didn’t have far to go to the border in the morning.
Let’s discuss the border crossing rules, shall we? The way it works is you have to 1) exit the county you are leaving by going to customs and get an exit stamp in the passport. 2) you have to go to the transport office and get a stamp on your vehicle documents stating you have left the country with the vehicle. 3) you have to get the stamp in the passport to say you are entering the next country and finally 4) you have to have your paperwork for the vehicle in the new countries transport office, showing all of the documents you have accumulated in the previous 3 offices, along with all the other documents, such as title for the bike, insurance info, etc. Oh, and let’s not forget the copies of all of the above that are required in EACH of the offices. OK, so you now get the picture. It’s like one massive scavenger hunt. OK, on with the rules; Leaving Ecuador, I was robbed by a money changer who short changed me by . Rule #1 – bring your own calculator to the exchange table. Oh well, so goes life in 3rd world countries. Next, while searching for customs in this sea of people, a guy starts yelling at me to pull into a space that was way too small for the bike. He sounded like he had plenty of authority, so I obliged. When I realized he was just an “ayunda” (the Spanish word that means “help”, but on the border, an “ayunda” is a guy who “helps” you sort out the paperwork then asks for money) trying to hustle me, I tried to just pull away but could not back the bike out myself (way too tight a space, and I had to back the bike uphill) and had to enlist the help of a few locals to push from the front. Rule #2 – if they aren’t wearing an official uniform or a gun, ignore them. On the Peru side, when I went to the final office to do the paperwork for the bike, I had quite the amusing experience. The big, fat customs officer in the official customs uniform was passed out drunk at the desk. It was 11 am. A local had taken it upon himself to dig thru the drawers of the circa 1950 file cabinet and pulled out a few of the customs forms necessary for my bike. He handed them to me, and told me to fill them out. This was a big surprise, as it was the job of the customs agent, and usually they are very protective of their precious forms with the official stamps and signatures. I filled them out anyway. Hell, I didn’t mind. I mean, what a great story to tell later! By the time I finished, the gaurd had begun to snore loudly. I was so amused by the whole damn thing, I just burst out laughing. The local took offense to this, took my forms and tore them up and threw them on the floor, yelling at me in Spanish. He made me fill them out again (as the guard continued to snore loudly. Rule #3 – no matter how inane or sublime, never laugh at a customs agent. So now you have all the unwritten rules for the border crossings in Latin America!
After the border crossing, we road along the coast of Peru for quite some time. The road meandered between the desert and the coast. It was really pretty, perfect day, just the ideal ride after the mayhem at the border. We stopped for lunch in a small village, Punta Sal Grande, and had some lunch in a bamboo hut on the beach. I had some seafood soup that was so good, fresh fish, oysters and crab. It, along with a pepsi, cost us. I tipped the woman another $1, and you would have thought she saw God. Crazy, huh? We found a little hotel with bungalows across the road from the beach for us. Things could be worse…..
