Bienvenidos a Peru

I've never flown first class before, so when the chance to spend $8 extra for a premium bus ticket came up, I figured the high life couldn't get much cheaper than that. We crawled out of Guayaquil's dense traffic on our two-story bus headed south for the Peruvian border through the land of "oro verde" or green gold, better known as bananas. Large plantations lined the sides of the road for hours on end until darkness set upon us and we arrived at the border. I was the only passenger to get off in Mancora after 9 hours onboard, the rest were headed for Lima, another 18 long hours away.

My Australian seatmate, sporting a much better beard than I'll ever have, and me. 12 first class seats downstairs, 40 something regular seats upstairs. We were served dinner and drinks onboard; I doubt Greyhound does that!

Hostal Misfit in Mancora was an awesome relief from the hotels I'd spent the last few nights in. I mean, check out the lobby, reception and dining room...

The entire place was four bungalows right in the sand owned by two young, gracious European expats. Below is the view from behind looking towards the ocean.

Mancora, Peru is a small, touristy beach town that hasn't lost any of its charm catering to the gringos passing through. Small restaurants line the beach and main drag, there was even a Mexican restaurant though I didn't try it for fear their California burrito couldn't come close to my hometown favorites.

The south end of town is still an active fishing port but it doesn't look like anyone was working this day.

In front of town is a nice left point break that was so clogged with beginners and so lacking in etiquette, I have to say it was the worst surfing circus I have ever seen in all my years of riding waves.

After a few days in Mancora, I decided to pack up and head further south where foam boards and surf schools have yet to venture.