Man oh Man-cora!

Stepping off the bus we decided to head south down the strip of Mancora. We had no reason why, it just felt right. Literally no more than two minutes after we started walking a crazy moto-taxi sped at us. Before I had the chance to yell at him something absurd like “Que Haces, pendeho?!” Keith, Laura, and I realized the passenger in the moto-taxi was none other than the missing one; Jamie. Lucky? Yes. Thankful? Very. I’ve never been more nervous in my entire life, and it was good to have our group member back at our side.

After the whole debacle of trying to venture our way down to Peru, we found relief in our location, the food, and of course the alcohol. After arriving three hours late, we stumbled upon our hostel which in the night sky looked very beautiful (wait until you see the pictures in daytime). Jamie, Keith, Laura, and I headed out for some dinner. To alleviate my pounding headache, I purchased a cerveza grande and proceeded to chug it. Drinking that much beer in such a short amount of time reminded me of the time in college I dared to beer bong a “forty”. Fortunately for me, this wasn’t the same occurrence, and I was able to hold this beer down…

This is where I stop and acknowledge the stories that my Grandma, Mother, and Aunt so poignantly described as “alcoholically abusive” when I talked to them last. Apparently from my stories, it seems that I am drinking more than I should, when in reality I’m probably partying less here than I was in college, Chicago-land, etc. Talks of rehab and counseling are not needed dearest family and friends. You should start to worry if I ever blog about visiting Colombia, start talking non-stop gibberish online, and when you notice my overgrown pinky fingernail in one of my pictures. Then we should all be worried.

At the restaurant (I honestly forget what it was called) I ordered the “surf and turf” and a mojito. The steak was insane, the shrimp was the largest I’ve eaten, and the mojito felt like heaven in my mouth. After drinking two mojitos and finishing my entire plate the group of us decided to pick up some beers and investigate this beach that compelled us to cross the border. Given the two ‘D’s (darkness and drunkenness) we decided to call it a night after the beach.
The next morning we rose early and headed to the beach. Below is a picture from the balcony of our hostel, it’s pretty sick.

On the beach we met some English, Aussie, and Irish folk. Keith and I participated in a game of cricket which we were both terrible at. The rest of the day we literally sat at the beach drinking and doing nothing. Night came and both Keith and I become deathly ill. Vomiting ensued for the remainder of the night; it was gross.
The next day I felt like a champ. I honestly felt amazing, so I did what any normal person would do when they are on vacation on a secluded beach; I started drinking early.

I’m actually starting to see what they were talking about. Nana, I might need you to and pull me out of this downward partying spiral I’ve plummeted into…heh-heh.

Another day at the beach; I played in an intense game of sand soccer with some locals; went back to the hostel and got ready to go out for the night. The night was good, but nothing to write home about, so I won’t; just kidding Laura. It was Laura’s birthday so we went out and partied pretty good. No mojitos this time. Just whiskey…ha-ha. The next day we all got up early and ate breakfast at a restaurant called Green Eggs and Ham. It was American owned, I had pancakes and bacon, and it was absolutely amazing.

Our trip home was depressing. I had to get up early the next day to give a final and I didn’t even watch to see if the students were cheating. I was still in Peru. Man oh Mancora was it a good time.