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"For the past four months I've been living in Máncora, a small surf town in the northern tip of Peru. I came here in hopes of escaping the cold and enjoying a nice, sunny beach for a short while. Little did I know that Máncora would open up its' arms to me and offer yet another crazy opportunity to take a wild journey inside my heart and soul, provide a doorway into the homes and lives of new friends in Peru, a chance to build a relationship with the ocean, a way of challenging myself physically and mentally by learning to surf, and a place to connect with other amazing travelers who have all bonded with Máncora in their own, private way."

My journey really began on my bus ride from Lima to Máncora, where I sat next to a young woman named Giade (Yadé). Giade is Peruana but lived in Canada for a number of years and speaks English very well. She invited me to visit her Sushi restaurant in Máncora, which she and her husband Yan own together. After a few days in Máncora I made my way over to Mara's Sushi Bar, where I met Wernick (Chino) and Guido- the two main employees working there at the time. Through them and the friendships we formed, my connection with Giade, and the bits of trust I was able to give right away was pretty much the doorstep into my connecting with this small surf community. I should mention here that it also might have something to do with the fact that I closely resemble Sofia Mulanovich- the Peruvian world champion surfer who is probably one of the bigger celebrities in Peru- due to her accomplishment of being the first ever South American surfer to ever win a world championship. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sofia_Mulanovich) I haven't had anyone ask for an autograph but I have had a number of people want to take pictures with me. Totally weird. Just another fascinating little twist to my life in Máncora (and the rest of Peru.)

Since my arrival, I've stayed in four different places. I treated myself to a $15 USD/night room when I first got here. I stayed there one week. From there I moved into El Pirata, where I stayed one month. During my time there, I had the unfortunate experience of an employee entering my room, tampering with my bag and stealing 300 soles. The owner fired the employee and paid me 200 soles. I feel pretty lucky I got that. From El Pirata (and right after a quick trip to Ecuador to renew my Peruvian visa) I moved into a small house in town where I lived with a middle aged couple -Tato and Maritza. I really liked it there. After a two and a half week trip down south (with the idea that I would not come back to Máncora...more on this later) I returned to Máncora where I was able to stay at my friend Amy's house...

It's complicated to sit here and try to explain the mixture of people (characters) that I've come to know here in this crazy town. It's a combination of locals who have lived here their whole lives and who have watched Máncora change over the years due to tourism (which they depend on completely,) Peruvians from Lima or some other peruvian town, and foreigners- from all over the world, who are beach bums in their heart and have come to take advantage of the climate, cheap cost of living, the simple way of life, and everything else that this place has to offer. It's a town where you know practically everyone, and everyone "seems" to know everything about you. It's a place where there is a clear division between the touristy-surf-gringo-Lima part of town and the gritty-humble-Peruvian side of town. Over the course of four months I would say the majority of my time has been spent getting to know one small subculture of this northern Peruvian surf town- the local guys who either work the beach or just go to hang out at the beach. These guys (my friends) are at the beach surfing, body boarding, kayaking, swimming, playing futbol, practicing bar flairs, smoking, picking up "flacas" (slang for women,) gossiping, eating, thinking and doing really any other beach activity you can think of.

It's been an exciting thing to be here building friendships (especially with all my gringo friends who-without them, life would be much more difficult) AND building a relationship with the ocean. For the first time in my life I've had a chance to actually live near the ocean (let alone within walking distance of the ocean!) What a life changing experience it has been so far. I learned during my time at Dewey Beach, Delaware how much I loved going to the beach with friends, listening to the water, laying in the sun, gossiping, and going for a bit of a float. Now that I'm out in the water actually using the energy of the water for something more- not just for surfing but to rejuvenate my spirits as well, I really can't imagine my life without it. Atleast not year round. (Ahem...future husband.) :) It's true when I say that if I find myself feeling a bit down or in need of some kind of spiritual boost...I can go to the water. Whether I surf, or just throw myself in for a swim....I usually always walk away feeling better. I say "usually" because when I have a day like the other day (where I leave the water after a surf session and have blood running down my leg because I fell off my surf board on top of a rock-which has been named Molly) I don't feel so great. I left a year ago with fairly decent looking legs, I now have a nice little map stretched out over my legs, which I've collected over the course of six months. Between the bugs in Bolivia, my scratching those bites, the bugs in Peru and surfing...I'm certainly not coming home with the same legs. :( Who needs tattoos anyway? (don't worry Mom, I haven't gotten a tattoo..yet) But yeah...the ocean is amazing. And...back to the surfing...after a week in Máncora and after taking my first three surf lessons (which consisted of my friend Edher paddling out into the water with me, holding the board steady and telling me when to stand up,) I determined that I would learn to surf in Máncora and that it was time to get out there on my own. This determination was based primarily on advice from a few- who told me the only way to learn how to surf is to get out there every day, make a load of mistakes, watch other surfers, have confidence, relax (como...chill ouuuuuuut) and ultimately build my own relationship with the waves. It also had something to do with a small comment from an acquaintance named Oscar, who told me that I would always be able to count on support from Máncora if I really wanted to learn. At the time, I didn't understand what he meant. However, not once in the past four months have I felt a lack of "support" out in the water-whether it was from my peeps (Szairo, Papi's, Chichito, Edher, Bella, Carlos, Alan, Furia, Carlancho, Maleo, Victor, Reyser, Oscar, Juanchi, Miguel, Cholo, Gino and many more) or "Máncora." I'm not saying that all was super chevere, or that I haven't had my share of bad days or weeks, hence the quotation marks around support, but every interaction has taught me something. It's crazy to think about how each comment (good or bad) or "lesson" seems to have come at just the right time in my learning process...as if not only to teach me a bit more about surfing, but to help answer the ever standing questions I've continued to ask myself over the course of my trip (or life?)...Is this where I should be right now? Am I still growing and learning? Do I still want to be here?

It's been my time in the water, and the interactions I have with the people of this community (especially my guy friends) that are helping me realize (more than ever) that I would never want to change the paths I've chosen in my life; because if I did change them, I wouldn't be here in this very moment right now. Every place I've been to over the course of my year trip through Latin America has prepared me for my time here in Máncora. This is where I've been able to accomplish the major things that I set out to do for myself over a year ago: like learning to speak Spanish well, learning to surf and learning how to hang out with guys while keeping my identity as a woman.

Where do I even begin to describe the crazy roller coaster ride I've been on since the first day I arrived here? The truth is, I never know what to expect when I wake up in the morning. Every day holds something new and interesting. Every day is almost the same (wake up, put on my bikini, walk through town, drink amazing fruit juice, go to the beach, talk to friends, swim, surf, play games, internet, wander around wondering what to eat for lunch, think, go home, shower, take a nap, go out for a few drinks) but just different enough to keep everything interesting. I feel like every emotion (good or bad), every fear, every dream, every instinct, and every friendship I have here has been tested over and over...partly because you see the same people every day and you often talk about the same things all the time, which only leaves you thinking about small things in such a big way.

I keep asking myself...How do I leave a place that continues to challenge and strengthen my heart and mind? How do I leave a place where I feel like I'm learning so much about myself and other people? How do I leave a place where the simplicity of life is refreshing, a place where a watch isn't necessary and people rarely make "plans." I really wish I could communicate easily what this place has for me...all I know right now is that it's definitely got something to do with the ocean, and the life that functions and revolves around its' heartbeat. But it's so much more than that, too. It's the friends that I've made here, the way they share so many things, and how they seem to operate like a giant family. The culture in this little northern surf town and their way of life is what really makes this place so intriguing, and yet so confusing and frustrating at the same time. It's definitely the highs and lows that I experience everyday which make it all so appealing (in one way or another,) and addictive-for lack of a better term. I've truly never experienced the kind of extremes like I've experienced here. It's a place where I've felt unbelievable amounts of trust and yet heartbreaking amounts of mistrust. I've never felt so much self confidence and insecurity in one single day. Some days I don't know if I will go to bed singing with happiness or if I'm going to cry myself to sleep. At times, I feel like I have all the friends in the world and the next moment I feel myself slipping away into the depths of loneliness. Every day I discover something new that I like about myself and within that same discovery find more that I can't stand about myself. The roller coaster ride never seems to end. And, I'm not sure I want it to end....the constant challenge of ones' soul, the ever changing moods of the people around you, the small pleasures and disappointments that each day brings and all the failures and triumphs that occur every passing moment of every passing day. It's every smile, random tears, grumpy faces, porritos, familiar music, dancing your heart out, chelas, new customs, the sound of familiar voices, sushi, spirits, anticuchos, sand art, birds, shells, rocks, ceviche, playing cards, betting ice cream, pollo a la brasa, learning new words, discussing new ideas, discovering new talents, lomo saltado, knowing that you have different friends for different purposes, drinking Lip Lickers, healing surf wounds, showing off surf scars, chifles, sunsets, fires on the beach, kissing, sex, love and the feeling of being alive.

At a time when I was sure that my journey in Máncora was coming to an end, I was fortunate to meet someone named Frank (most people call him Fran.) He's an amazing guy who stepped into my life after a few months in Máncora. In the short time I had to be with him, I was able to heal in ways I've been needing to heal, learn more things about myself that I've been needing to learn, and most importantly clarify in my mind the personal needs and desires I have in a future companion. He's the main reason I left Máncora and the reason I went to visit south for a few weeks. I had the chance to visit Trujillo (where part of his family is living now) along with Huanchaco and Chicama (both surf towns.) I spent over a week with Fran in and around Trujillo, getting to know members of his family, watching him practice his flairs on the beach, playing futbol with Majo and Lady, preparing and screwing up refried beans (too much salt!) and taking a nice tumble down the stairs. After unforgettable moments with Fran, I decided to move on to Chicama - a surf break known to have one of the world's longest left waves. At the time I thought (but wasn't quite sure) that I had said my final goodbye's with Fran. I surfed for four days, but only ended up getting good exercise and surfing foam, as I'm not fast enough getting to my feet and generally just not good enough yet to be out out there on those waves. I didn't leave totally discouraged but did leave feeling a bit disappointed. So, I'm hoping at some point to come back and surf Chicama a bit more prepared. I wonder if I might get to see someone walking around with my red Keens that disappeared from my patio my last day there? Chicama wasn't all bad, Fran came to visit...which turned out to be the best day of all. After his visit, I decided to go back to Trujillo so I could see Fran one last time. Good decision, I had a great time with him. We said goodbye over a week ago, and I got on a bus headed for Piura. It wasn't until an hour or so outside of Piura that I knew where I would be going. I wasn't sure if I would stop in Máncora or go directly on to Quito, Ecuador. I decided to stop in Máncora with the idea that I would stay only a few nights. I ended up staying one week. I'm glad I did because it certainly helped being around familiar faces again, but most importantly...Máncora was ultimately where I needed to be to write and finish the first major draft of this blog.

It will come as a surprise to very few I hope....but, I have decided to come home. I fly into LA tomorrow (Oct. 15!) Surprise. :)

Part of my decision to come home has to do with the fact that my sister Erin is due to have her second baby, and another part has to do with a bunch of other little things- I want to eat things like my family's home cooking (hint hint), cheddar cheese, tasty bacon, Vietnamese food, Oatmeal Cookie Chunk ice cream, BBQ ribs, McDonald's Chicken Selects with buffalo sauce and ranch dressing (please let there still be Chicken Selects on the menu!) and so much more. I want to sleep on a comfortable bed with a nice, soft pillow. I can't wait to sink down into a nice bubble bath with candles and soft, soothing music. I so look forward to curling up on a super comfy couch where I can catch up on movies I've missed over the past year. Definitely looking forward to being reunited with Celly again. Woohoo! Late night phone chats here I come! And..last but not least, I can't wait to go out salsa dancing, where I hope to make the floor smoke from all the spinning I plan to do! :)

Those are just a few of the things that are pulling me home. One of the main reasons I'm coming home right now is because I'm unquestionably ready to leave Peru, but am at a point where I feel like I need to surround myself with people I love and trust before I can even think about continuing my travels.

A frustration that latched onto me in Mexico (although I didn't feel it too strongly there,) followed me through most of Guatemala, poked its' head out at different times in Chile, Argentina and Bolivia and has tormented me through nearly every step I've taken in Peru, is the simple fact that I am a gringa AND it's really hard to know who you can trust. I didn't want to believe it for so long, but I do think I've finally come to accept that for sooo many people I will only ever be a gringa that earns the US dollar (which isn't worth much these days!) and not a whole lot more. No matter how big my heart is, how open my eyes are to the needs around me, no matter how much love, friendship and support I'm willing to give, or how much desire I have to help, no matter how little their needs are compared to those of others, or how little they really actually know me...there are just some people who will always want to take advantage of a gringo. I have a feeling that this isn't the only place in the world, or the last time in my life that this frustration will haunt me. My time spent with Bruno in Bolivia, the five months I lived in Peru, the charitable acts I've seen along my journey, and the ache in my heart that I carry home with me is all helping me to think more about charity and how I will choose to be a charitable person.

Máncora is a small enough place that you can easily see (after a bit of time) the class divisions that exist in Máncora, and in most of Peru. I won't discuss in too much detail here, however I will state these few observations:

The upper class people from Lima (who can easily be mistaken for a gringo) do speak with a unique accent (which I really quite like,) they dress and act more like city peeps and certainly are accustomed to the comforts that most of the western world have. Most of them are well educated, come from fairly wealthy families, and speak excellent English- I think due to the fact that a lot of them have gone to English speaking schools in Lima or have lived abroad at some point in their life.

Then there are the middle and middle to lower class peeps from Lima, any other city, or Máncora who are just like everyone else...trying to save a bit of cash- because we all know it doesn´t grow on trees. They may or may not stand out, may or may not appear to be a gringo (tends to lean more to the appears NOT to be a gringo) and may or may not speak English. Most live without certain luxuries that I have back home, but they're the kind of luxuries one really can live without...lots of space, a closet full of clothes that you never wear, piles of toys, loads of decorations or furniture for the house, having water or electricity twenty four hours a day, useless furniture that hardly gets used, fancy tools for the kitchen (I can't tell you how incapable I feel in the kitchen here...I never realized how many stupid little tools I've used to do the same job that my friends do here with just a knife. I've learned that I'm actually kinda scared of knives. Ha. That being said...I've missed the luxury of buying meat that is already whacked up, labeled and ready to cook...although, the quality isn't nearly as good back home as it is here.) Anyway, they definitely don't NEED cars because transportation is everywhere. It's efficient and completely affordable. Eek...there are tons of things to list here. Most don't have washing machines or computers in the house (but it's not unusual to see them with cell phones and mp3 players.) I would say that the majority of people in Máncora live as such.

As for the lower class...I obviously have seen poverty, but it is hard to distinguish it from some other standards of living. One thing I feel the need to say here is that there really aren't skinny, starving people in the street (almost none.) However, there are a lot living in shabby looking houses with less than desirable conditions (according to western standards.) I have seen very few people asking for money. There are young kids on the beach during the day (like my little friend Gene and his buddies,) who should be in school but are out picking up bottles on the beach for money because they don't have parents who are looking out for them at home, although they do have a family at the beach feeding them and encouraging them to be good boys. My friends that have been here volunteering have spoken of the poor conditions that a lot of the special needs children and adults have been placed in. I can only imagine, especially when I think about the poor conditions for people with special needs back home. I'm sure I don't need to say here that the public education is poor, and is by far the most heartbreaking thing I've seen throughout my trip in latin america (specifically Mexico, Guatemala, Bolivia and Peru.) One of the biggest observations I've made here is that there just aren't a whole lot of books around. Of course there is a library, a small book store and a guy who sets up a stand to sell books in Máncora. But, the selection is so limited. I keep asking myself, is this because the people just don't see the value in reading? because ultimately there is no money? because there aren't a lot of people writing in Spanish? because there aren't enough editors translating books into Spanish? because of some government conspiracy to keep the education level down for the middle to lower class? Whatever it is, it makes me sad. Nearly everyone has a TV and a DVD player (or at least has easy access to them,) and the internet cafes are jammed with noisy kids playing video games...but I'm curious...are kids reading? Is there a thirst for knowledge (which could ultimately lead to some kind of personal, familiar or communal gain....possibly?) In my opinion, we make opportunities for ourselves when we are motivated and when we feel we have enough knowledge to actually do something well. When I think of my parents and the kind of environment they provided at home, and of my siblings, and how they are raising their children...it makes me so proud, thankful and grateful for the examples they have provided me. Those examples along with so many things I've seen throughout the course of this past year are causing me to contemplate more about the kind of mother, and parent (teacher) I want to be some day.

It's hard to say for sure, but this trip home may just be a "re-charge." I do keep feeling like I need to come home to challenge this notion that I should start thinking about "real life" again. Maybe I'm ready and maybe I'm not. How will I ever know if I don't come home to find out? Honestly...I'm prepared for anything. I was able to book an affordable round trip ticket from Quito, Ecuador to Los Angeles...which means I could fly back after the New Year. If I decide not to take the flight, the loss isn't too great. And, I guess I'm willing to take that loss. If I do take the flight, I will most likely head straight for Colombia and eventually work my way towards Venezuela.

So....after one year, one month and a five days....my first independent backpacking trip has finally come to an end. I'm proud to say that over the course of that time; I managed to budget accurately, avoid getting majorly sick, keep my losses to a minimal (less than $1000 USD- which includes painful atm fees, and all things lost, stolen or broken,) hang on to my ipod (which was one of the single most important items I carried with me- thanks Yalcin for the amazing gift) even though it stopped working less than a week ago, collect hundreds of unbelievable memories, make amazing friendships, learn a lot more about the big, beautiful world that exists outside the borders of the U.S., and confidently feel like I'm coming home a stronger, more aware, better educated, independent woman.

What an experience it has been! Thanks to all my family and friends (old and new) for the support and love that I've felt every step of the way.


Kindra

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