Mama Flora — 9:43pm
The last of the other diners has just cleared out. I’m tapping away in the corner, on a wobbly plastic table (supplied by the local beer company) in a sort of restaurant/grocery store/front-room mashup. The last group to leave were a rag-tag bunch of surfers of varying ages and nationalities. All hunched around a laptop reviewing the days photos. Next, next, next-ing through photos of others then pausing for long periods when one of them appeared on screen. Flicking to and fro in the photo sequences. Picking apart technique, trading friendly digs, swapping stories of that one wave they got that….
Just an hour ago the place was packed out. They’ve got their product offering nailed. 10 soles ($3.30) for a plate piled high with fried rice, beef stir fry, or a burger. Big, cheap, filling food for the dirtbag surfer crowd comprising 90% of the town’s tourist income.