Mozambique.
This is certainly a stunning place if you are into sun, surf, sea and sand.
Beautiful, endless white sandy beaches, great reefs to snorkel and dive, amazing seafood at truly incredible prices: fresh jumbo prawns at $US2.00 per kilo, and super fresh fish at half that.
Even tourist stuff is cheap - two dives out on the reef for $US85 is quite a deal.
Vilanculos is probably the most touristy places in the country - there are daily international flights here. Even so, it is nothing like a tourist centre or anything like it which to us is a big plus.
Unless you have a few hours to walk everywhere (not always a good idea at night), then you need a 4 x 4 to get around town.
Infrastructure if it exists, is minimal if that. Water is from individual bore holes, usually far too close to your own or someone else's invariably poorly made and leaky septic tank. Mineral water being the norm here.
The market has just about everything, including rats (dead) that you need to step over occasionally, as long as its clothes, fruit, vegetables or comes in cans or packets. There is also bread, a real luxury after Zim - often quite tasty, sometimes of smoke, sometimes of bread.
We left Chimanimani on the 20th. The drive to Chipinge was only about 65Km, but it was uphill for half, downhill for half, and twisted and turned everywhere. Very pretty drive though through lots of Pine & Wattle forests. We actually picked up a hitchhiker - it's easy to do that here.
Finally met Garth who was busy wheeling and dealing to feed the South East Zim fuel habit. He's organising several tankers a week now, so it's all Rose (his mother) and the staff can do to keep up with the admin. As there is no official supply of fuel, lots of people are calling, dropping in and requesting supplies. A fair amount of chaos permeates the office. Garth of course, having a ball and doing a great job at it too. This time, his mother Rose was also in town.
We caught up with the past 3 years. Typical news for whites in Zim. All of them have been beaten by the locals who accused them of manufacturing petrol bombs after three tractors were destroyed by fire. Mob rule and the police refused to act as it was a "political" demonstration! This is the really shit side of living here. Fear & loathing stuff.
Garth, of course had most things organised for us, as usual, we just had to encourage him to let us know what it was that he'd fixed up for us. We celebrated our reunions with lunch and dinner at the only restaurant in town. Actually, its someone's house, but it works really well.
During the day, we pay another visit to Garth's farm and do a repeat tour. This time I get to see the computer program they use to monitor the breeding, and I offer to write an improved one. Finally! A commission. Something to keep me busy during those long winter nights after I run out of clients.
It's time for a clean out, so we off load 2 fuel containers and our spare camping chair. Garth loves them. Next, it's tourist time. It's been many years since Chipinge was in any way a tourist destination, but Ilge of course manages to find quite a few Christmas goodies. This is the main street, note the huge que outside the bank waiting (patiently) to get the $US1.50 equivalent in local cash.
Thursday we wake to rain. It turns into what is probably the most boring day we have spent anywhere this side of the equator. I watch 60,000 litres of diesel being pumped into a holding tank, then 50,000 litres being pumped back out of it. Ilge and the kids watch TV. Practising for home I guess.
I check out the supermarket and you can see that there is obviously a white/ middle class hereabouts. There is even Malt Scotch here at a very good price too ($US10). There is just about everything you could want here at quit reasonable prices - compared to the rest of Zim anyway. I stock up on travelling goodies, pop, milk cookies and chocolate bars. You never know what you are heading into when you cross borders.
That night Rose invites us to dinner, and we see how to really barbeque a chicken. Garth is busy delivering large chunks of fuel around the neighbourhood till well after we leave Rose's house.
Friday morning, Garth draws a rough map of Vilanculos, gives us some idea as to which way to turn at various crossing points on the Mozambican roads, fill the tanks with the same boring diesel we had watched earlier in the day, get some Mozambican money, stack up some worthless Zim money for fun, say our farewells and head for the border. Leaving the garage, we see the logical implications of the fuel shortage as a very civilised free for all at the pump celebrates the arrival of diesel
On our way, we stop at another craft shop, and I back into a tree pummelling the van. Oh shit, but the lights still work, and a bit of duct tape sorts out all the bits that were broken off.
The Zim border guys give us a hard time taking out the spare can of fuel!!!. They eventually let us go.
Mozambique is easy to get into, they just need me to find the engine number of the van, (digging under the hood as the time passes, I find a number and write it on the import form), plus they wanted the serial number of my Laptop. They appear to be pretty anal about most things, must be their brief phase of Marxism a few years back. No big deal though. Entry fees ($10) and insurance - for some reason the Mozambican price in Meticales is only a quarter of the price in Rands?? - about $2.00 - I'll take it! Once again, we are off into unknown territory.
It's a long green downhill stretch, lots of bridges, lots of people just lying on the ground (seems a popular past time here), on a fairly good dirt road. Poverty is incredible here. Far worse than Zim.
After 80 Km, there is a river with a pontoon worked by hand. There are of course suitable refreshments on hand. 50,000 Mets - $2.00 to get across. Worth every cent.
Dombe. At last, we are stopped by the feared and dreaded Mozambican police. One guy, some English. Sure enough "documenta": we give him all the stuff. As warned, he wants to check all the lights, all fine.
"Thank You, have an enjoyable and safe trip" we are told as he motions us to go. We do, and our worst fears evaporate. That was too easy.
More dirt, some speed till the EN1 tarmac road. This is the major Mozambican highway, supposedly running North to South through the country.
Now its 3:00 PM and we have about 300Km to go to Vilanculos - we are not sure because we have no reliable maps now. The road actually gets much worse, sometimes the potholes are so bad, it throws the gear stick from "D"rive to "3"rd gear. Some of it is international standard. God! as we speed down the road, we see just how poor it is here. Even worse than Zambia, which is pretty bad. There are no animals here except goats and chickens. Apparently after Portugal elected a Socialist government in 1975, they simply withdrew their forces overnight and left the white population to get on with it. During the next two decades, everyone starved and the wild animals were either eaten by the locals, gunned down by the marauding armies, or shot for fun by the Russians and East Germans who were brought in to control the mobs and offer legitimacy to the terrible government.
Quote from a Mozambican guide book, Globetrotter Guide to Mozambique:
"Chaos ensued and white settlers fled to South Africa in their thousands". After this,
"Frelimo adopted disastrous policies based on Marxist policies rather than skill sets for jobs". Another disaster.
"During the 80's South Africa fomented the Renamo civil war which left millions homeless, thousands legless, and a legacy of landmines throughout the country." Yes poor and brutalised.
As we drive down the road, there are villages everywhere. Pathetic stick and grass huts, rotting roofs, terrible. We get lots of stares, no smiles. Lots of beggars, also lots of albinoes for some reason, street vendors surround you like locust if you stop anywhere. At the "Total Garage" that Garth told me ask - I expected a restaurant/ café for expats here. In reality, it looks like no one has been here for months: there is no fuel, only 2 security guards and lots of street vendors. We settle for cashew nuts and a huge pineapple all for 50,000 Mets, which sorts us out for a while.
Back on the road, it looks like slash & burn is the survival technique of choice here. Mealies, bananas, pineapples. This is the coastal plain, its very green, but little seems to be growing to support people. We pass many vendors holding up chickens and fish. Very basic subsistence stuff. Everywhere there are people. There are no smiling faces here. The vast proportion are under 10 years old. Looks like the Catholic Church still has its adherents. Occasionally we see brick buildings, but they are invariably very old and grimy , usually unused, and often falling down. Old Portuguese colonial farms I assume.
As the sun sets, we arrive at the Save river. A long bridge with a toll booth, luckily you only pay going North.
According to the guide book, there is a hotel here. It's wrong. There is a "toilet" here though, and after our 3 hour drive, we all head there.
Let me say, that I have travelled for over 30 years around many parts of the world, and in a lot of poor and pathetic regions. I have therefore been to some pretty disgusting bogs in my time, but this one beats everything I've ever had the misfortune to use. Almost every space on the floor, and many places on the walls are covered in shit, many areas have multi tiered levels of the stuff. God it stinks - how can people "live" like this?
It gets dark, and we continue to Vilanculos. Not a cop in sight, but we scrupulously observe the speed limits and arrive around 7:00.
We have been recommended The Blue Water resort, some way out of town. Looks like this is pretty much a Zim expat area.
The food is good, but we do not like the place, it's relatively expensive, only cold water and nothing except a bed is provided. In the morning we head to town.
After nearly 2 months of inland touring, it was good to see the Ocean again.
Garth's map comes in handy here. Over to Smugglers - another Zim expat holdout, for lunch. I drive around and find out you need 4 wheel drive to get anywhere except down the main street.
We meet Margie, a long time resident here who has a map for tourists such as us, and recommends Casa Joes. She gives us the low down on what goes on here in town.
Invigorated, we use the auto cash machine and amazingly, it spits out 3,000,000 Mets: about $US120. It's a start. First thing is off to a fuel pump for a fill up, I've still got my 30 litres in the container in the van, but this paranoia is hard to get out of my system. Not sure how long it will take me to kick this habit.
Garth has also recommended Renoir at the Aquia Negra resort for diving. The menu looks pretty good, so we come back for dinner to see him. The food is actually pretty poor. He is fully booked till Wednesday - 4 days from now. We reserve, and plan to take a refresher course on Tuesday evening -it's been over 16 years since we have dived.
Let me describe Casa Josef et Tina:
It's big. About 10 metres in diameter made with lots of long skinny poles holding lots of reeds together. Many of these contain large colonies of termites which produce large amounts of dirt on the floor everyday.
The floor is concrete. Apparently, the cost of the place does not include any cleaning or servicing. This is fine as no one comes in, so nothing is missing at night.
It has 3 bedrooms with a mozy net and a double bed and a floor standing electric fan in each, a bathroom (cold water only, and a bucket for flushing the bog), 5 plastic chairs, two tables and an outside kitchen. Most rooms have a hole in the wall covered with mesh which act as windows. It's also 10 metres from the beach, and 50 metres from The Tropical, a local hot spot bar on the beach, and a few "blocks" from the harbour. At $US36 per night, we are happy enough.
Over the next few days we wander around the town, take photos, do some email (my server is up, but it's blocked from responding by the local settings), a Dhow trip to Magaruque Island, have one of the local kids cook fish and Matasas, a traditional local dish for us (pretty good actually) and wander around town - we even find a cappuccino cafe. In general, we adapt to local Latin mores and follow the locals example by slowing down. Aiden practises saying "I am looking for aliens, where can I find one?", and "I am I mute, can you help me?" in Portuguese, Kayle, Ilge & I read. We all play cards. I locate the local bakery where they produce bread, but I'm not sure about the fuel used to bake it...... sometimes it better not to know about these things.
The local beer is nothing like as good as Zims, or even close to South African offerings. Makes good shandies though. But who can complain when you are drinking it in a place like this!?
In town, I still notice shit in many places, but I'm getting used to it now.
The Dhow trip we took was actually quite scarey. Fairly high seas, lots of wind and swell. It was also low tide, so lots of sand bars and shallows. I even got the kids to wear life jackets, even though they can swim much better than I can. Snorkelling on a fairly tame reef sets us up for some real stuff later in the week.
We see quite a few other tourists here - must be a regular haunt, plus some local fisherfolk just off shore. We retire to the shade of a tree for coconuts and (more) fish for lunch. Aiden & Kayla cavort in the surf - the tide comes in at a hell of a whack here, and where we dropped anchor when we arrived, is now 100 metres away through the rising tide and surf. On the way back, it's much calmer, and the crew (2 crew, 1 captain), hoist the sail and still under power, sail back to Casa Joes. I'm glad to get back to shore.
We wander around the market for souvenirs and pilchards, the bakery for bread and cappuccinos (with sterilised milk??), the fruit & vegetable vendors for food, and the bottle store for booze.
We sort of get by without much Portuguese, occasionally getting piles of things wrong like food for dinner - 1 kilo of fish, becomes 6 fish (3 times as much), oysters turn out to be a gross bucketful of unknown, and to me totally inedible shells...... Whatever.
We agree that we will head down to Durban, meet Mike & Kerry again, and Ilge & Aiden will fly to Joburg from Durban to pick up their flight, rather than me dropping them off there. So, I call Kerry, and eventually get through and tell her to expect us. Now we have our final plans set. South to Durban, then home.
Tuesday evening and we do our refresher check out dive. Some of the stuff is totally new to us - no more buddy breathing, all octo air now. Ilge refuses at the first hurdle when it comes to clearing water from her mask. Just cannot hack it, so it's just me to dive in the morning.
There are 6 of us going out, the 4 of us, plus two folks from New York. Renoir tells us that the US has not identified Mozambique as being any safer than it was, it's just that huge swathes of "safe" countries have been move down the ladder to "unsafe" for various terrorist reasons, actual or perceived.
The trip out to Bazaruto Island. was interspersed with speeding along with dolphins as they rode the boats bow wave. Very sleek graceful, apparently fun loving animals. Out past the shelter of the northern island and into the open Indian Ocean complete with unprotected North Westerly winds, the sea and the swell is really pretty bad, 3 - 4 metres of it. We stop, and 3 of us jump in.
I get down to the bottom (20 metres), with only slight levels of panic. Lots of muck down here. It should be 10 - 15 metres visibility, but it's more like 3. Good coral though, and a huge turtle appears in front of us. There is also, appearing equally suddenly, 3 other divers in the same part of the reef.
I do not panic, inhale quantities of sea, or die in the process, and come up, exactly as planned, 32 minutes later.
Back in the boat, Ilge is pretty close to throwing up. This swell is pretty deadly. We chuck the kids into a sheltered spot inside the reef for about an hours snorkelling.
They tell me it's great. I decide, given the missus upchuck potential, and the poor visibility to forgo the next dive, and simply head back.
We lunch on a sandbar (Shell Island, after all the shells its made of), that rapidly disappears as the tide comes in.
Back at Vilanculos, we pack, head off to "Na Sombra", and have a great final meal there.
In the morning, having had more than our share of Vilanculos, we depart for the south. Inhambane, Maputo and Durban. The end of our adventure looms just over the next rise.
Odometer: 312474 Distance Travelled: 660Km Trip Distance: 610Km, Total Trip 6797 Km
