Wine in the Sand

Drinking cheap red wine in the sand with our Irish and Israeli and American traveling crew

The Oasis

Talk to enough of them and you'll realize that members of the traveling set are prone to exaggeration and easy description.  It's simply common nature among those crowded in the hostel bar.  When everyone is excitedly chatting about where they've just been, happily dispensing advice to anyone who will listen, accuracy is not paramount.  There are no conscious deceptions, its more that people repeat the standards rumors and taglines they heard about the place, whether or not they're perfectly correct.  Popular backpacking destinations become known both by the name of the town and a concise description of what there is to do there:

"Iquitos - city in the jungle."

"Mancora - party surf town up north."

"Huaraz - place to trek."

"Cusco - entrance to Machu Picchu."

These little reputation summaries are both technically valid and totally inaccurate.  They both publicize and misrepresent places.  And they, along with the brief but often outlandish further descriptions that often follow them, cause backpackers to form a certain image of a place before visiting there.

"Huaraz - place to trek.  Surrounded by white-capped mountains, absolutely fucking beautiful man.  Like fucking Nepal man."

Huaraz is indeed a very beautiful place, that can't be argued with.  However, it is not 'surrounded' by white-capped mountains - there are some white-capped mountains that can be seen in one direction, provided it's not too foggy.  And, besides not being overly warm and possessing a few mountains that can be hiked up, it shares very little in common with Nepal.  But, all that being said, the person who provided me that colorful description wasn't trying to deceive me; they were trying to help me.  They likely heard many of those same words from some other backpacker before they went there.  Their only fault laid in repeating easy, unnecessarily extravagant, descriptions of places.  When I showed up to see the real Huaraz, I wasn't disappointed.  It's an amazing place in it's own way, it doesn't need to be fully encircled by Himalaya-like mountains to be worth visiting.  You learn rather quickly that these types of summaries will often be punctuated by the lowest, most outrageous but relatable common denominator.  And so when I decided to go to Huacachina and people told me it was "the oasis town", I expected a standard village with a little sand nearby.  Little did I know this time that this short backpacker tagline couldn't have been more accurate.

Hot, wavy sand as the far as the eye can see and then a tiny lagoon appears out of the nothingness.  Coming from three of four directions, you can't even see Huacachina until you're tumbling down a dune towards it.  That we came directly from cold, mountainous Huaraz only added to the wonder of this new place (to say nothing of proving the incredible diversity of Peru itself).  It seemed that the backpacker summaries had finally described a place perfectly.  Huacachina - fascinating and exactly as advertised.

Chickens

I never realized how accurate those toy rubber chickens were until I encountered this butcher shop in Huaraz.  Is it me or does those chickens look strangely fake?

Don't Mess With These Guys

There are dangerous people everywhere, the trick is knowing who to avoid.  These dudes run Huaraz.

The Glacier

The Pastoruri Glacier, an impressive sight after a short but tiring hike.

Melting, slowly but surely.

High Up

Altitude sickness affects everyone differently, the experience for me felt much like a sadist was trying to scoop out the right side of my brain with a rusty spoon.  I sat, winded, on the side of the path as the lucky unaffected gleefully trotted by, somehow oblivious to the 5,000 meters we were above sea level.  The danger of altitude sickness is like the danger of a riptide- invisible, persistently underestimated, subtlety lethal.  Thinking about it, the glacier trek we were on actually couldn't have been a better introduction to the dangers of altitude.  We were in a highly controlled environment (multiple guides, well stocked on water and medication, a physically easy and flat trek, a large group) and were therefore never in danger of becoming disorientated or lost.  We simply tasted a small appetizer of what can happen at altitude and learned to be over-prepared when hiking up high.

Celebrity

I’ve written before about how being a foreigner can make you feel like a celebrity.  The Facebook-effect has added new evidence to that phenomenon – children insisting on taking pictures with you whenever possible.  It’s weirdly flattering initially but that all wears off rather quickly.  I’d estimate in a single 2 hour trek, our group of 6 gringos took a minimum of 100 pictures each with kids wandering around the national park.  Older Peruvians aren't exempt from wanting photos, I took about a dozen pictures with smiling old women, all of whom owned digital cameras.  They were all very sweet and polite but the constant interruptions became undeniably annoying.  I didn't Sean-Penn-freak-out on anyone, but I now have a better understanding of how that happens.

Giant Cactus

The guide had promised us we’d see “a giant cactus”.  I got out of the bus, looked at it, and couldn't help but tell him “that is….exactly as you described it.”

Trekking

Out on a trek.  The variety of climates in Peru is incredible.  One day you’re on the beach, the next you’re hiking up to snow-capped mountains.

Changing Landscape

It’s easy to forget that northern Peru is a desert.  I woke up on a bus and was happy to see this intense shift in scenery, definite proof we were headed somewhere strange and new.

Kite-surfing

Mancora is a popular kite-surfing destination, but this is an activity ill-suited to the backpacker.  Expensive, difficult, physical, and requiring multiple intense days until any true fun can (maybe) be had?  Most backpackers opt to spend their time and money on a variety of other things.

The Lighthouse

A quaint little lighthouse overlooking Mancora.  Planning to hike up there to watch a sunset and then getting distracted by happy hour is a time-honored Loki tradition.

Loki

"You can check out any time you want, but you can never leave."

Growing up, I remember being confused and infuriated by the idea of a monopoly being illegal.  It seemed to me that the law punished companies for no other reason other than that they were simply too good at what they did, an inherently unfair concept.  It took a college economics course for me to realize that the laws were written primarily to protect the consumer, and in a monopolistic environment, the consumer generally suffers.

As odd as it sounds, it is possible for a hostel to be too good.  Loki, in Mancora, is probably too good.  It has cracked the (admittedly simple) backpacker formula and is reaping the rewards.  It has become bigger and more well-known than the town that houses it, it is an attraction in and of itself.  It is a monopoly, and though it's an undeniable good time, the backpacker-consumer is suffering.

The open secret to a hostel like Loki is that if it provides all a backpacker needs at a good enough quality, they will have no reason to venture outside it's walls.  Lodging, food, drinks, entertainment, and the best crowds - in Mancora, it's all at Loki.  Late nights, fueled by perfectly designed happy hours and theme parties and drinking games, ensure that guests oversleep checkout time.  A varied, reliable menu (with all items purchased on a tab system) destroy any motivation to seek food elsewhere.  Even the lure of the ocean, the main attraction of Mancora, is undercut by a beautiful pool, void of the jewelry sellers that annoy you at the beach.  You hate it and love it, you resent the place for keeping you so sheltered but at the same you just can't stop having fun.

And so, a little time was wasted at wonderful/terrible Loki.  I made good friends there - a group of Australian surfers who may be the happiest people I've ever known, some fascinating rum-loving Chileans on vacation, a Swiss banker considering giving up a life of high salary for a life of tending bar -  and left far earlier than many who get sucked in by Loki.  I formed a strong Irish/Israeli crew and we made a plan to head south, to the mountains.  And after lying to ourselves for a while ("We'll leave tomorrow!") we did just that.