It was time to move on. More precisely to Vilanculous. A lazy fishing town north of Tofo. In itself not very interesting, but it was a cheap access point to the Bazoruto archipelago. And that was a recommended place to visit. I got up early, had a shower and packed my bag. Had a grand "Nest breakfast". Basically a breakfast with everything except the kitchen sink. Why not splurge when I was leaving anyway? Full of food I checked out, paid my bills and left. I walked to the market, where I was told I could find chapas for Inhambane, where the ferry to Maxixe left. I found a chapa and asked for the price. "400, leave now!" he said. I reacted a little to the price, but was not in the negotiating mood. This was a backpackers joint, so I expected they took advantage of that. I accepted reluctantly, and got onboard. I asked one of the other passengers how tmuch they would pay, but got just a smile. When the driver got in, he said something to him. The driver looked at me and once again said "400, leave now!". "Ok!" I said. Then the two other passengers got off. And took their luggage. I wondered what was going on. The driver got in, and off we went. Then it dawned on me. "Leaving NOW!" meant I would pay for the ride. It was my private taxi. Otherwise, I would have to wait for enough passengers. So the others were simply thrown off. I felt bad. At least I could have offered the poor passengers a ride, since I had already paid for the ride anyway. So there I sat, watching with growing embarrasment that the driver flew by one after the other waving the chapa down. I was the massungou on my way. VIP. Man with the dough. I was dropped off at the ferry landing. I got into the ticketing office and a guy wanted to sell me tickets he had in his hands. Another guy pulled me away from him and pointed me to another guy who also sold tickets he had in his hands. I paid the 10 metecais for the ticket and headed for the ferry. It was big, and we had to wait for it to be full before we set off.
Onboard were also the people I assumed to be Portugese, but they were in fact Spanish... I found that two of them spoke some English. Alicia, a journalist, and Pedro, an English teacher (...). The ferry became jam packed before they decided to take off. The trip took about 10 minutes. I got off and walked into town to find a chapa to take me to Vilaculous. It took a while before I found the correct street. And when I arrived, the spaniards were there already, discussing heavily with a guy. Alicia smiled when she saw me and asked if I wanted to go with them. They were negotiating a price for a chapa for just us massungous. The thought of sitting in a cramped Hiace with 15 others for 6 hours, compared to 6 people for 4, made the choice easy. It would be 500 metecais instead of 250. But it was worth it. After some heavy discussions and bargaining by the spaniards, we got a deal. The 6 of us plus two others. We accepted. And we were off. We only stopped a couple of times to go to the toilet and buy some fruits and nuts. And the trip took 4 hours instead of 6. And my legs weren't falling apart. But my butt was still killing me. The seats doesn't get better even when we are fewer... The chapa driver dropped us off at a site with bungalows. They had no room for us. But now we were a bit too hungry and tired to start searching. So we went to the "Tropical Bar" by the beach. Where we were served a nice meal of chicken and chips. We knew the chicken was fresh. We could hear them being captured and killed nearby. :-) Two of the spanish ladies went on a walk to ask around for rooms and prices while we waited for the meal. They found that the best prices were at a hotel just across the road from the bar. A big mama greeted us with the biggest smile this side of Africa. 1000 metecais per person. I talked a bit with her, and even though she didn't speak English, and my Spanish is terrible at best, I managed to understand that she had worked for a few years as a housekeeper in Italy before returning to Mozambique and building this place. She was making a fortune from it. At least by Mozambiquan standards.
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| The ferry |
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| My humble abode |
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| What's this? |
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| Ah! A freeloader on my toilet! |
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| Meet my small friend! |
Sunday :
I got up late. Somewhere nearby, the music was playing all night long, and the "thump, thump!" was knocking me out of my sleep all the time. I tried the shower, but found that it only squirted water every now and then. Sometimes it worked for a few seconds, and then the water stopped for a few minutes. In the end I gave up, and just left to find some breakfast. I walked into town and found a supermarket where I could buy something to drink, and some bisquits. There was a bakery in town, but the line outside was too long for me. So I just walked past. When I came out from the supermarket, I heard a familiar sound. Church! I remembered it was Sunday, and time for church. I didn't understand what the pastor said, but I recognized some of the words, so I guess he was speaking about Elija. And when he had finished speaking, or more precisely, shouting (no PA-system), the congregation broke out in a song with wonderful harmonies. I sat there and enjoyed it until the end. Then I left and walked back to the hotel to try to sleep some more. Just before the entrance to my hotel I looked down on the beach and noticed a local guy lying there. Like he was sunbathing. I thought it a bit odd, given he wasn't white. But whatever makes your day. But wait! Was that? Really? In broad daylight? On the beach for everyone to see? I had to look again. Yup. He had pitched his tent on the beach. For everyone to see. Ok. There are people with no shame everywhere. That's for sure. I walked back to my hotel.
After a slight nap, I decided to head into town again to see more of this little village. It had been transformed, like many other places in Mozambique, into a tourist place. And like other places, it assumed tourist were willing and able to pay exuberant prices. I passed many hotels and resorts where it was obvious that they were expecting foreigners with big wallets. How that's going to work out for them if/when we get a new financial crisis? Probably not good. But that's for them to find out. The town was obviously one that had existed through the colonial period. With many buildings of european style. And big resorts.
One thing I needed to do was to change some money. But I realized that I was unable to do this, since today was Sunday, and tomorrow I would go to Bazeruto and be gone the whole day. But I managed to find an ATM that accepted my card, so I could withdraw some money. Enough for the trip tomorrow, and then some. So I will probably have to do the same when leaving, to pay for transport and accomodation enroute to Malawi. Unlike many countries I have been to, there aren't any moneychangers in the street. The banks give such a good exchange rate that they simply cannot exist.
I walked the road we entered Vilancous and to my enjoyment, I found a place were they palyed a football match. Not that football in itself interest me. But I always find it interesting to see people in such countries as this, playing sports. While at home, most people are used to well-prepared fields, here they played a match on sand. So it became more of a game of sand-football than what I have played. A big crowd of at least 20 watched the game. And I stood there for a few minutes, taking some photos. It was enjoyable. To say the least.
I walked back to the place we stayed and met the others. They told me there was a concert in a bar next door. At Zombie bar (...). It was a chilean artist who had grouped up with a Mozambiquan drummer. I thought it sounded interesting. So I joined them. It was not a great experience. More amateurish. And the chilean admitted he and the other guy had just met, and was asked by the management if they could play here. They had just said yes. :-) I left and went back to my room to sleep. Preparing for the day ahead.
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| Hotel "White folks" (Massungo) |
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| Football on the sand |
Monday : Bazaruto Archipelago.
We had to get up early to get to the boat. Gina had prepared a breakfast. Bread, some jam and tea/coffee. I sat with the spaniards and listened to them speaking. I got about 1% of the conversation based upon the few words I know. But I didn't mind, I am not in a very talkative mode in the morning anyways. We had to be at the dhow place at 07.30, and we were (supposed) to leave at 8. Since we were to snorkle at the coral reefs in the archipelago, we needed to be there a bit early to have flippers fitted. And to pay, of course. Sometime after 8 we finally were allowed onboard. We had to vade through the relatively cold water, and climb aboard using a ladder they hung over the side of the dhow. We had to wait for a couple of girls who had to run back to the hotel to get a new camera. One of the girls' camera didn't focus properly. The three of them sat down beside me, and to my surprise, she was Norwegian. We started speaking Norwegian and she told me this was the first time in four weeks she had spoken Norwegian. She was here on what was supposed to be an environmental project, but when she arrived, nothing was prepared, so she ended up building a chicken-farm for the locals instead... She (Bushra) was on the boat with two Brazilian girls, named Alina and Anna. They were also involved in charity programmes. I have to admit that it was great speaking a language again that I could understand properly. Even though the spaniards were great, communication was always a problem. As is only natural. The two Brazilian girls spoke adequate English for me to strike a conversation with them too.
The navigator on the boat was a big guy that looked like a typical African rebel leader. Tall, square face, sunglasses and an army hat. But he looked too young to have been fighting with Frelime or Renamo-millitia when they were fighting. They set sail for the journey, but looking at the sail made me think the outboards-engine did most of the work. It took the better part of three hours to get to the coral reefs. Bushra wanted me to take her waterproof camera and take some photos. She was afraid she would drop it. I took the camera and jumped in. It wasn't too bad temperature. So I swam towards the reef itself and found a spot where I could sort of stand. And then I dipped down the take photos. But the waves and currents on the reef pulled me so hard that I fell over a number of times and most of the photos where blurred due to the movement. But I think some of the photos were ok. She promised to e-mail me them when she got back to Norway. I checked the boat from time to time. And after too short time it looked like most of the others had had enough, and had climbed on the boat again. So I swam slowly back while taking photos of fish and corals underneath me. You just gotta love coral reefs. I reluctantly climed onboard again. The guide asked if anyone wanted to go snorkling again. I hoped somebody else wanted to, but the general concesus was "Naaaah!".
The raised the anchor and we were off. The started preparing our lunch. Which would consist of fish, crabs, rice, sauce and assorted fruits. We headed for Bazeruto island. The captain steered the boat into a small inlet on the island. In front of us where the beautiful sanddunes of the island. We jumped ship and everyone climed the tall dunes. It was exhausting, to say the least. But we got up in the end. On top of the dunes, a beautiful view opened up. Sandunes in all directions. Color splendor agains the azur-colored ocean and the blue skies. Desert plants clinging to the fertile soil they could find with their roots. I just love this. We were allotted 1 hour on the dunes while the crew prepared the lunch.
We all gathered for the lunch on the boat. It was delicious. Especially the sauce. After eating the fish (yummy!) with rice and sauce, I ended up eating two whole plates of just rice and sauce. It was splendid! Alina told me this was the best meal she had had in Mozambique. I have to admit that it came close to the best meal I've had. The fish was delicious, as always in this country. The sauce....ooooooh the sauce. And all the fresh fruit. I, and possibly everybody else, ate far too much. Bushra concurred.
Time ran out for us, and we had to leave. Just a quick stop at another sand island. Just as beautiful, but not with the tall dunes. 15 minutes later, we were heading home. But this proved easier said than done. The winds were picking up, and since the tide was going out, the sandbanks and reefs popped up everywhere. "Mr. Renamo" stood in front and shouted when he saw dunes or reefs in front. We touched several of them. The whole boat "tugged" a bit every time. And the winds made the ocean frothy, so big splashes of cold water splashed down on everybody, drenching our clothes. With the cold wind picking up, it became a very cold experience indeed. Bushra was completely soaked and together with Alinia and Anna, they tried to keep warm as much as possible. Bushra laughed and said that people asked her if she wasn't Norwegian. "Yes, but it is warmer than this in Norway now!".
We were supposed to arrive back on shore at 3.30, but it was closer to 4.30 when we finally arrive. My shirt was soaked. I was cold, like everyone else. And my glasses had fallen out of my trousers. I managed to find them in the keel of the boat. Luckily. We all walked as fast as possible back to our respective places to get a hot shower. I arranged to meet Bushra later to get her e-mail-address. And here I am, at the Zombie bar. Writing this blog entry and enjoying an incredible pizza baked on open fire in a pizza-oven. Bushra has just left. I am satisfied with what I have seen and experienced here on the coast. Now it is time for me to start the long way to Malawi. It will take a few days, I suspect. Maybe I'll get there by the weekend. Maybe not. I'll see. Hakuna matata. This is Africa.
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| Mr Renamo himself at the rudder |
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