Trujillo & Huanchaco, Peru

Using a sleep mask and earplugs, plus having paid up for an executive seat on the bus, which reclines 160 degrees, I was able to sleep for most of the overnight bus ride.  I arrived in Trujillo just before dawn.  I picked up my big backpack and headed out front of the Terminal Terrestre at about 5:30am.  I had a reservation with a hostel in Huanchaco Beach, about 30 minutes north of the center of Trujillo.  After a short wait, eventually a cab showed up and I headed to my hostel.  My reservation was for the coming night, not the night that had just passed, so was somewhat concerned I would have to wait in the lobby of the hostel for 5 hours until 11 or whenever they would check me in.

Arriving at 6, I range the buzzer at the front door, and had to wait five minutes or so before a girl of about 14 opened the door while rubbing her eyes.  I explained I had a reservation.  She woke her Dad (it was a family run hostel) and he didn’t want to deal with checking me in at that hour, so simply gave me keys to my room and told me to see him in the morning.  Nice.

I headed downstairs at about 10, and signed the registrar.  I asked for some hot water, and headed to the patio in front of the hostel for coffee while reading the news and taking in the spectacular beach view.

I had no concept of what Huanchaco beach is all about before arriving, but having observed it on the cab ride in, it reminded me of a smaller, South American version of Venice Beach, California.  Miles of palm tree lined sand beaches, fronted by different types of diversions: a park, a soccer pitch, basketball court, a workout and gymnastic area, bike rentals, volleyball nets, etc.  Across the street were dozens of restaurants, bars, hotels, and surf schools.  Vendors selling everything from handicrafts to snow cones bark offers for their products.  Street performers cruise the boardwalk trying to make a buck.

Huanchaco is a famous surfing destination, renowned for big waves which attract surfers from all over the world.  Dozens of surfers can be spotted along the beaches at any time of day, especially when tide is coming in just before sunset.  The surf culture is palpable, highlighted by a slow, laidback lifestyle and general sort of goofiness displayed by the locals.  It’s the type of place where travelers go and end up staying for months or years.

It was traditionally a fishing village, and fishermen still use Caballitos, single person reed boats, to set fishing nets.  It is rumored to be the birthplace of ceviche.  Today it is a popular vacation destination popular to both native Peruvians and foreign travelers on the ‘gringo trail.’

After coffee, I headed out to the beach to do some yoga, followed by meditation.   Then I had a swim in the ocean and laid in the sun to dry off.  Yeah, I could get used to this.

It was a Saturday.  I had no plans.  I walked along the beach and wandered around the city, scouting it out.  My current hostel didn’t have a kitchen, so I wanted to change my lodging.  I found a couple different surf hostels—hostels that also had an on-site surf school—that looked like fun.  Later I went swimming and laid on the beach for several hours while reading and having a couple beers.  After the sun set, I found a restaurant that was crowded with locals and travelers alike, and had an awesome seafood dinner.  I again resisted the urge to party, and instead just got a beer and wandered the streets.  I met a couple fellow travelers, and chatted with them, picking their brains on Huanchaco and the north of Peru.

The next day I booked an Airbnb in Trujillo where I was going to put in a Sunday-funday poker session.  At about 10:30, I hailed a cab, and gave him the location of the apartment that was listed on Airbnb.  The cabbie looked at me like I was crazy, and tried to tell me that 1.) It was not a real address and 2.) It was not a good area.  “Hmm the listing said it was in a safe area…and Google said it was a real place,” I thought to myself.  I told him to go ahead despite his concern.  When we got to where Google maps said the street should be, there was nothing there.  I showed the cabbie the screenshot of the map on my phone, but he told me it was incorrect.  I asked him to drive around a bit more.  He soon got frustrated, so I paid him and got out to find it myself, thinking it was nearby.

After the cab drove off, I suddenly realized I was in a pretty shady area of the city.  Later on in my travels I learned Trujillo is renowned as a place where gringos get robbed.  Luckily it was midday—I would not like to be here with all my bags at nighttime.  I walked around for a while with no luck.  Some of the locals I passed on the way looked at me strangely.  “They don’t see tourists here very often,” I thought to myself.  Realizing the address on Airbnb was bunk and that I had no idea where the apartment is actually located, if it even exists and I wasn’t scammed, and having no wifi, the words, “I’m fucked,” danced through my mind.

I eventually hailed another cab, and asked him to take me to “un hotel grande en el centro de Trujillo.”  My plan was to speak with a concierge for help.  The concierge told me the same thing as the cab driver.  I pleaded to let me use their wifi, and seeing I was in distress, gave me the password.  I had arranged to meet the host of the apartment at 11 and it was already a quarter to 12.  I messaged the host, and luckily he responded within a minute.  Yay, I wasn’t scammed.  He sent a message with specific directions and told me to show it to a cab driver.

Fifteen minutes later I was in front of the apartment, and Carlos, the host, greeted me.  I apologized, but explained the directions on the website were completely fucked.  He was very nice about everything and apologized to me, promising to fix his listing.  Carlos turned out to be a really nice guy, and went out of his way to make sure I had a nice stay.

I made some eggs and coffee, settled in, and began my Sunday poker grind.  It went ok, but I lost a few brutal hands at a significant final table and instead of having a +$4000 session, only profited about $700.  Still worth the hassle, I guess.

The next day, I explored downtown Trujillo, around the Plaza de Armas and University de Trujillo.  It’s the largest city in northern Peru, and I thought the downtown area was nice.  It had the trendy clothing shops and nice looking restaurants that you’d expect in a larger city.  I didn’t have much time to explore, as I was leaving the Airbnb and heading back to Huanchaco.  My mind was longing for the beach.

I cabbed it back to Huanchaco and set up shop at Meri Surf Hostel.  I dumped my shit in my room, made lunch, and then set up a surf lesson at 3.  When 3pm came, I was lucky to have a lesson with just myself, a 12 year old, Henry, from Chicago (!!!) on vacation with his mother who was from Peru, and Mateo the surf instructor.   We went to the north side of the pier that bisects Huanchaco beach, where the smaller waves are.  I stood up almost every time during my lesson, and was able to turn my board into the breaking waves on several runs.

After the lesson, I had a pina colada and went out for another seafood dinner.  I returned to the hostel to have another beer, before doing some writing and turning in.

The course of the next week was largely the same on a day to day basis.  I’d wake up, have a nice leisurely breakfast while reading email and the news, usually lasting until about 11.  Then I’d go to run errands, going to the market and such, followed by the beach for a couple hours.  I’d return to the hostel, make lunch at about 3, and afterwards head out for a late afternoon surf while the tide was coming in for the evening.  I’d return to the hostel, shower, then have a beer or cocktail while watching the sunset, and afterwards head out to a new restaurant for dinner.  Then I’d either go out to watch a soccer match, or hang at the hostel watching a movie, reading, or writing.

It was a nice existence—nowhere to be, no hurry, at my leisure for everything.  On arrival, I only wanted to stay in Huanchaco beach for a few days, but wound up staying for nine nights.  Over the course of the week, the hostel was almost empty.  I had an entire dormitory to myself for S./20 per night.  I became friends with the staff at the hostel: Bella from Oregon, Victoria from Cali, and Nikole from Budapest.  I was especially buddies with Nikole.  We went to the beach and had dinner several times together.  She was a huge sweetie and a generally gracious person who was easy to be around.

One day, I spent the middle of the day going to Chan Chan, a significant archaeological site near Trujillo.  Chan Chan was the capital city of the Chimu empire, and as such had much impressive stonework and architecture.  I spent about four hours going on a tour and exploring the ruins.

When the weekend came, I finally had to share my room with two new guests, Chris and Heidi from New Zealand.  Luckily they happened to be super cool and it would mark the beginning of a lasting friendship.

Saturday, the hostel had its monthly BBQ.  The dudes from the surf school set up a makeshift BBQ in front of the hostel, invite a bunch of their friends by, and all the hostel guests are welcome to attend.  It was a good time.  I got to have some traditionally prepared Peruvian BBQ, which was slow cooked pork and chicken basted in a cocktail of apple juice and spices.

I spent a lot of time chatting with Chris and Heidi.  They’re a couple who were in the first two weeks of a seven months journey around South America.  Chris is a lot like myself.  He’s 31 with a penchant for partying (and admittedly overdoing it when in party mode), but was now looking for a different modality of living than how he’d spent the last decade.  He had quit his job working for a large mining company in New Zealand, before embarking on their travels.  Chris has been surfing for more than 15 years and was looking forward to hitting the waves at the premier South American surf destinations.  Heidi, his girlfriend, is 26 and had been working various office jobs for the past several years before quitting her job.  Like Chris, she was fond of partying and the festival lifestyle.  They had taken several long trips abroad together before, but this seven month sojourn was a new territory for the two of them.

At about 11:30, the group at the BBQ headed out to Janpix bar, a reggaeton bar, and one of the more happening spots in Huanchaco beach.  The place was popular destination for travelers, but also had a strong presence from the locals.  It made for a combination of fun interactions with people I could speak English with and also try my Spanish in a busy bar scene.  I had a couple beers and danced it up for a few hours.  After 1am, the dancefloor was swamped and things started getting loose.  About 2:30, the scene took a turn towards heavy boozing and cocaine.  Still trying to maintain some adherence to my post-aya dieta, I didn’t want to be a part of the heavy drinking, and excused myself shortly thereafter.  The party kept going until 5am, so I heard.

The next day I went swimming to get myself going, and then made myself a huge breakfast.  I played a Sunday poker session at the hostel, making a final table with $11k for first, but unfortunately I absolutely butchered a hand that led to me busting out in 6^th for $2500.  I managed to profit about $1700 on the day, which isn’t bad considering I was up until 3:30am the night before, but I should have taken home at least $5000.

I spent the next day just like the rest of the previous week, and made plans to leave Tuesday.  Chris and Heidi were heading to Chicama Beach (aka Puerto Malabrigo) on Tuesday and invited me to join them.  At first I didn’t want to be the third wheel, but they assured me it was cool, so I said what the hell.

The next day we all packed up, paid up, and caught a Peruvian bus back into Trujillo.  We didn’t know where we were going, if the bus went by the bus station, but asked the driver to let us off as close to the bus station as possible.  When we got off, we had to walk a few blocks to the bus station, and as we walked up just as a bus was leaving for Chicama.  The doorman took one look at us and called out, “Chicama?!” We waved and ran after it.  We quickly threw our packs in the luggage compartment of the still moving bus and climbed aboard.

We arrived in Puerto Malabrigo about two hours later.  The bus let us off on a street corner, and after retrieving our luggage, Chris, Heidi, and I looked at each other and had a ‘Where the hell are we?!’ moment.  The town was desolate and sleepy, with next to no activity on the dusty, undeveloped street.  We heard the ocean a few blocks over and headed towards the sound of the waves.  On a street overlooking the ocean, we stopped for a smoke while admiring the incredible blue Pacific, then caught a mototaxi to go to El Hombre hostel, which was recommended to us by the surf dudes at Hostel Meri in Huanchaco.

After checking in, Chris and I went for a walk to find where we could rent surf boards and wetsuits.  We soon found a place, and headed back to the hostel with our boards and suits in tow.  It was about 3:30pm, so we had time to go out for a surf.

Chicama is another world renowned surfing destination.  Pretty much the only travelers who pass through this town are surfers.  And usually serious surfers.  Chicama has a cape at the far south end of the port.  Waves break off the top of the cape, or “The Point,” northward in long straight lines all the way to the pier at the center of town, a distance of some 4km.  When a really good wave comes along, expert surfers can ride the wave from the point all the way to the pier.  This is said to be the longest wave in the world.

Chris and I suited up, grabbed our boards, then descended down a steep set of stairs and the face of a sand cliff to the beach situated far below the main street in town.  We then hiked south along the beach for almost 30 minutes to The Point.  We took the plunge and paddled out through massive breaking waves coming off The Point of the cape.  I struggled to get through the break as these waves dwarfed the waves I had been practicing on in Huanchaco north of the pier.  I took several waves to the face, before breaking through to the still water.  Chris, being an experienced surfer had no problems.

We floated for a bit to catch our breath, then a wave came and with no hesitation, Chris paddled into, taking off and surfing for a good minute on it.  My turn.  I waited, and spotted a good wave.  I paddled into it and I tried to stand up as it broke, but tried to stand too early.  These waves were much bigger and more intense than what I was familiar with.  I struggled with a few more waves, but eventually caught a good one and surfed it for about 30 seconds.  After getting back on my board and beginning to paddle to The Point, I realized the wave had taken me about a half mile away from the point, a distance that would be horribly exhausting to paddle all the way back, into the current.  I instead went to shore and hiked back to The Point.  I stayed out for an hour and a half, and after my arms were unable to effectively paddle, I headed back to the hostel.  Chris showed up a short time later.

After cleaning ourselves up, Chris, Heidi, and I ventured out for dinner.  It was a bit difficult to find a place to eat in this sleepy surf town.  Most restaurants looked deserted even though they had signs out front and their doors were open.  Eventually, we passed a place where a group of other surfer dudes were eating and they beckoned us in.  They told us it was the best spot in town, and we all enjoyed an excellent seafood dinner and some beers.

The next day, we awoke to a windy, overcast day.  Chris wanted to get another surf in before we left that afternoon.  On one of the last runs of the day yesterday, I had blasted my left foot on a rock aggravating my toe injury.  With the unpleasant pleasant weather and wanting to rest my foot, I decided not to go.

After Chris returned, we went out for breakfast then packed up to head to Chiclayo.  As Puerto Malabrigo is a small, out-of-the-way surf spot, we first had to catch a bus into Paijan.  From there we were able to find a bus line to take us north 2.5hours to Chiclayo.