Punta Sal is a beach a couple of hours south of the border with Ecuador, over 1 hour south of a town called Tumbes and over 3 hours north of Mariza's hometown of Piura.
The house house we rented sits right on the beach, with basic, airy rooms around an open terrace facing the Pacific. In the morning, the sky is filled with frigate birds coming in from the sea (perhaps using the giant cel tower up on the hill as a landmark?). The waves are skimmed by flocks of pelicans and the sand is alive with hockey-puck sized red crabs that skitter around, rolling the sand into thousands of little balls the size of peas. When approached, the crabs dart down into holes they have tunneled in the sand. The water in front of the house is rocky, but 5 minutes up the beach is nice area. The water is warm and pleasing and, unlike the many other tropical beaches, here are actually waves, perfectly calibrated to be fun but not threatening to our kids. This part of the beach is in front of the Punta Sal Hotel where they seem unconcerned that we might be sitting at one of their umbrellas or coming in to the bar or restaurant.
Carter and Julito immediately jumped into their frenetic, happy beach relationship. Keeping them immersed in enough sun block was a struggle for they seemed to have no limits to how long they could roll in the waves. There was sand to build with, snails to dig up, once a dead puffer fish even washed up. Julio found a plastic bottle at the water line that was an ecosystem unto itself, with barnacles, anemones, even a small crab. The house has a "jacuzzi" (not technically, having no heater and no need for one); so the boys had plenty of options for water play. By evening, slightly burnt and with puffy eyes, the two would dwindle down like candles until someone would take pity on them and put them to bed. 
Juanita's services come with the house, she sweeps away the unrelenting sand and helped Mariza with meals. Juanita was tense the first couple days as we dealt with the owners because the refrigerator wasn't functioning properly. I think she thought she would be blamed; but it all worked out in the end…though we did lose a few sensitive items to spoilage before the new fridge showed up. There is not internet, so we went over to the hotel a few times for the wireless. Jen was also ringleader a couple of times, leading the kids to the hotel pool. Time on the terraza is relaxing, with games of Bananagrams or Mexican Train. Jennifer, Julio, Maureen and Julito all left on Monday, returning to Lima.
As they left, Farnaz, Paul, Carter and I departed in the other direction, taking a taxi 1.5 hours north through Tumbes to the mangrove swamps. The ecosystem is remarkable as two large rivers flow into the Gulf of Guayaquil, pouring fresh water on either side of the mouth of the mangrove area. The tides push and pull the waters, creating an 80% salt water mix for the mangrove area. We arranged for a boat at Puerto Pizzaro (so named because it is this area that Pizzaro used as his landing point for the conquest of Peru). While boarding our boat, a man on the dock made a point of telling us, even illustrating with a pen on his hand, that we had chosen well, arriving just in time for highest tide of the year. The boat motored out past some little shacks set up to serve families that come to spend the day, though the tide meant there was very little left of the usual sandy beach. We saw a couple of birds on the way (e.g. a very colorful kingfisher), but we didn't go far before reaching a patch of mangrove that thousands of birds agree upon as the place to nest. The boat sidled right up to the branches as the sound and smell washed over us. Pelicans in the hundreds, frigate birds in the hundreds, but also several other types. It was not just Farnaz, the true bird lover of the group, who was impressed. There were ibises, which the boatman called "crabbers" (and indeed, their long curved bills would be perfect for pulling little red crabs out of their sand holes). There were several kinds of heron (striated, tri-colored, little blue, yellow-crowned), none showing any fear of our proximity. We could have stolen little green or blue eggs if we wanted to. We had paid a little bit extra to also see the crocodiles, not really knowing what to expect. We pulled up at a landing and feared the worst; it appeared to be a horrible little zoo cynically set up for tourists. But no, it's actually a breeding program that rears and releases crocodiles into the river Tumbes. Carter and Paul took turns holding a juvenile, while Farnaz was more interested in the fact that off to the side was a new bird to add to her life list. The sun was setting and we had a pretty little ride back to the dock where our taxi man was waiting.
Prologue: Getting to Punta Sal (and yes, I know prologues usually go first)
The week prior to our beach vacation I managed to get all backed up on a project, forcing myself to stay up all night. I never worry too much about the 3 or 4 times per year that this happens, it seems a small price to pay for the converse privilege I enjoy…being able to mold my hours to my liking. This all-nighter, however, my eyes started to give out around 4am, literally blurring over with goop. I pushed on through, with the result being that for a week my eye gooped themselves every night, and only a week later were not glued shut upon awakening. In fact, I got a sore throat, my nose developed strange pimples, and my whole body seemed to rebel; perhaps rightfully so.
We left on Friday afternoon, needing 2 taxis to get all of us to the airport. Jen, Carter and I, Farnaz and Paul, and Mariza. Julio, Maureen and Julito were already up at the rental house in Punta Sal. The flight was uneventful, but when we arrived at the Piura airport we discovered 2 different vans waiting for us. Jennifer had misunderstood a text from Maureen, hence the double-booking. All our luggage was already up on one, so we apologized profusely to the other guys and gave them some compensation. They complained and we compensated them further. So it was not received well when one of the other guys, the chosen ones, complained that the flight was an hour later than he thought. This was all foreshadowing for the odyssey yet to come.
Piura is not the closest airport, being more than 3 hours away, but it was considerably cheaper than going through the closer town of Tumbes. We needed to buy groceries in Piura, which made our driver grumpy (even though it was part of the contract), and he refused to take Jen on a small errand while the rest of us loaded up on food and drink. It was dark, so we go none of the scenery as we drove north in the dark, arriving in Punta Sal around 12:45am. We were not yet at the house, however, and through a combination of factors, it took 45 minutes of confusion before we found the place. The driver looked at my map and said "OK" but it didn't seem right. By the end, I was sure that my grasp of where to go was better than his and I found myself giving him direct orders. Finally, after asking many people, we were on the right road and in front of the final security gate. When no vigilante came to our calls, I clambered up the embankment and the wall, yelling "Señor!" over and over into the night. A groggy guy eventually let us in; meanwhile, my voice was just about gone and my patience totally gone. The sound of rolling waves as we unloaded the van promised better things for the next day.
Epilogue: Getting Back to Piura
For Jennifer, Julio, Maureen and Julito, another bizarre taxi experience during their return to Piura. The dispatchers had made a scheduling error and were trying to have our folks switch vans midstream. Maureen, in a rage, literally sequestered the driver's cel phone so the dispatchers could not talk to him until they all reached the airport).
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