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Published: February 3rd 2012
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On Thursday, we had one last lunch at the California Kitchen and headed over to the Cuenca bus station. To get to the North Coast of Peru, the quickest way is to cross at the coast... however, this crossing is notable for its sketchiness. So, we decided to cross into Peru at the mountain crossing, near Macara, for caution's sake (in literature, this would be called foreshadowing). This also gave us a chance to spend our last night in Ecuador in Loja, other than Cuenca our favorite place in the country. We had some tamales and empanadas at
El Tamal Lojano, and a couple of drinks at
El Viejo Minero. Friday morning, we headed out early for the long bus ride across the border to the city of Piura. After flying through immigration and getting our six-month visa to Peru at the border, we arrived several hours later in Piura. A blazing hot city with not much to recommend it except for its status as a transportation hub, Piura isn't somewhere you want to spend much time, but after 9 hours on the bus we decided to rest for the night before continuing. We took advantage of the air-conditioning in the local movie theatre
and saw Man On A Ledge (ridiculous but entertaining).
Even though Trujillo was only 6 hours away, we decided to stop in between in Chiclayo, both the check out the lay-of-the-land and to not rush things (again, foreshadowing). After taking a cab to our chosen hostel, the Hospedaje San Lucas, we were greeted inside the door by two friendly guys who indicated they worked there. As Justin waited in the ground floor vestibule with one of the guys, the other took Chris up the stairs to look for the owner to check in. After telling Chris to wait as the owner would be back presently, the guy came down the stairs for a bit to try to give Justin help with his bags, heading back up after Justin demured. After a minute, the guy came down the stairs again, slipping and sliding down the last portion. After assuring Justin that he was OK, he handed him a magazine and said he'd be right back. A minute later, Chris called down to say there was a room.
When Justin went to grab the bags at his feet, he realized that his small backpack, which contained his MacBook (with the
only copy of photos from a year in Ecuador), iPhone, digital camera, Kindle, Flip Video camera, all the sundry chargers and cases, and personal documents (drivers license, check card, Peru entrance card, immunization card) was no longer up the stairs behind the large backpacks. In his frantic moments, a look that Chris says she's never seen in 17 years crossed his face... pure despiar and panic. After getting the bags upstairs and Justin into a chair to rock for a while (and determining that his passport was luckily still in his pocket), Chris went out to cancel his check card (after taking out money in case hers would be canceled as well... it wasn't).
After piecing together what had happened - the two guys had somehow gotten into the hostel, had taken advantage of the lack of anybody at the front desk to make themselves look like they belonged, had distracted Justin by pretending to slip down the stairs while the other guy reached behind him to grab their smallest (if most valuable) bag and head out the door - the full impact of the loss started to set in. For the most part, the items in the bag
were several years old, and everything except the photos were eventually replaceable. But, monetarily, psychologically and productivity-wise, it was obviously a huge blow.
After filing a police report (the Chiclayo police, by the way, were helpful and on-the-ball... two detectives came by the hostel later that (Saturday) night to investigate, and e-mailed Justin a full report a couple of days later... not that there's the remotest hope of recovery), we wandered around the busy downtown trying to process the events. The next day, we got out early to Trujillo, regreting our bad luck and timing, but knowing there was nothing that could be done.
Trujillo, the third largest city in Peru, is a bustling coastal town with a beautiful old center. We checked in to
Casa de Clara, run by its lovely namesake. After a quick stroll, we crashed pretty early the first night, worn out by the previous day. The next day, we headed out to Huanchaco, a small fishing village about 15 minutes by combi (communal vans) from Trujillo. After ascertaining that it was truly a quiet beach spot, and not a party clusterfuck like Máncora or Montanita, we felt we'd made a good choice. We celebrated that
night by heading to one of the large malls in Trujillo for our first cup of Starbucks in over a year.
On Tuesday, we headed to our new home of Huanchaco. We checked into the
Hostal Naylamp and hit the pavement to check out the town. First of all, Huanchaco is unbelievably beautiful, a stretch of pristine beach that goes on forever. It's also amazingly undeveloped, without any of the blasting dance music you find in most beach towns in South America. It's a surfing mecca, with the water filled with boards all day long, and features fisherman who still use hand-crafted reed boats to ply their craft. The flip side is that it doesn't have many amenities (such as a bar to watch the Super Bowl, for example). While the city of Trujillo, which has more offerings than Cuenca, is a short ride away, Huanchaco is very, very basic. But very spirited... the second night we were in town, the town was filled with music and fireworks, in celebration of the patron saint of the village.
However, that's what we were looking for... a tranquil, sunny spot with access to the amenities of a city. Yesterday, we moved into an apartment two blocks from the beach... so we're settling in, safe and still a bit shaken from our loss.
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crazy kent
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hey guys
I don't know if it's Justin or Chris that's writing these blogs, but they are so well written and so interesting that I thought I should let you know. Love you guys and hope we can get down to visit you in a couple of months. Kent & Susie