Wow...beaches!
I’m now in Mozambique, the country just northeast of South Africa. And so far we’ve spent all our time in Mozambique at beaches. Apparently, “Mozambique is all about the beaches.” At least that is what the guide keeps saying whenever I bemoan the lack of cultural interaction. (Friendly bemoaning, mind you.)
Beaches are nice. I like beaches. However, having lived a mile from the beach for roughly two-thirds of life, I’m not keen on traveling half way around the planet to visit one. I’d much prefer to see village life, culture, historic sites, nature… Beaches are a bit boring. Oh well, ‘it’s not the destination, it’s the journey’ and other cliché statements like that. (I do acknowledge that a large percentage of my family/friends who are reading this are surely sitting at work right now and thinking ‘Oh blah, blah. Poor thing has to spend the day at the beach.’ I’m not exactly making friends with this entry.)
We have visited two beaches so far. Luckily for me, the third planned beach stop has been nixed due to time limitations. Mozambique’s roads are riddled with giant potholes which swallow up huge blocks of time. (For long stretches, we never hit 40mph.) Such is travel in a developing country. :)
Beach One
We first visited Praha Di’ Bilene, a small resort town situated on a large lagoon separated from the Indian Ocean by a sandy spit. Here’s my minimalist shot of the sandy spit:
It was a beautiful, relaxing setting. I took in the beauty, relaxed, then quickly got bored.
On the second day there, several of us hired a local boat to cruise us across the lagoon to see the ocean. It was my first time seeing the Indian Ocean. The sun was very intense, as were the ocean waves—too violent for my meager swimming skills. It was nice to finally lay eyes on the Indian Ocean, but the boat ride was a bit of a bust. On the route back, I took random pictures to pass the time.
Beach Two
Next, we had a FULL travel day north to go to a beach called Guinjata. The AC on the bus picked the hottest day to break down so we were all good and cranky by the time we got to the beach. We spent hours on the hot bus until we got to the middle of nowhere...
...where we then piled onto our next mode of transport, an big old army truck...
...and drove through lots of rural villages on a loose sand road (loved this part, so fascinating!)
Finally we arrived at our beach. Huh, kinda looks like the Laguna Beach cliffs (near where I grew up).
We went to Guinjata because the snorkeling is supposed to be among the best in the world. Unfortunately the weather was much too windy to go snorkeling so we missed out. Huge bummer. Instead of snorkeling, I passed a good portion of the day just sitting and talking with my tour mates. We have a really great group, but I’ll write about that later. I also sat on the porch of our house and read, wrote, stared at the breathtaking view.
My favorite activity at Guinjata was crab digging with a local family. On the second day there, I went for a walk along the beach before breakfast, and ran into a local family digging in the sand for crabs.
With little else to do, I saw no reason not to join the effort. It was great. And so was I…at first. I caught three or four within the first five minutes! Each time I would find one, I would let out a rather cowardly squeal and hand the squirming, tiny crab over to the little girl digging next to me. And each time, the group would let out a big laugh, imitate my squeal, and then smile big smiles at me. It was a fun, silly exchange. (Mozambique was colonized by Portugal, so Mozambicans speak Portuguese. And, of course, I don’t.)
Alas, after my dazzling start, my crab-per-minute average dropped off precipitously. I started to feel badly that I wasn’t pulling my weight. Ahh, the pressure. Eventually, I said goodbye and headed back to the resort. (Although, on the way back, I found a REALLY big crab and I literally chased it around the beach until I was able to thump it unconscious with my shoe. I then walked it back to the family and (kind of proudly) presented it to them. They smiled as they accepted it, but looking back I'm not sure if it was a “thank you” smile or a "what a weird white lady' smile. Oh well, at least I tried to help.
Before I sign off for the day, lemme leave you with this photo of the view from my bedroom window. The roar of the crashing waves was so loud it was hard to get to sleep. Ah, the troubles I must endure.
Beaches are nice. I like beaches. However, having lived a mile from the beach for roughly two-thirds of life, I’m not keen on traveling half way around the planet to visit one. I’d much prefer to see village life, culture, historic sites, nature… Beaches are a bit boring. Oh well, ‘it’s not the destination, it’s the journey’ and other cliché statements like that. (I do acknowledge that a large percentage of my family/friends who are reading this are surely sitting at work right now and thinking ‘Oh blah, blah. Poor thing has to spend the day at the beach.’ I’m not exactly making friends with this entry.)
We have visited two beaches so far. Luckily for me, the third planned beach stop has been nixed due to time limitations. Mozambique’s roads are riddled with giant potholes which swallow up huge blocks of time. (For long stretches, we never hit 40mph.) Such is travel in a developing country. :)
Beach One
We first visited Praha Di’ Bilene, a small resort town situated on a large lagoon separated from the Indian Ocean by a sandy spit. Here’s my minimalist shot of the sandy spit:
It was a beautiful, relaxing setting. I took in the beauty, relaxed, then quickly got bored.
On the second day there, several of us hired a local boat to cruise us across the lagoon to see the ocean. It was my first time seeing the Indian Ocean. The sun was very intense, as were the ocean waves—too violent for my meager swimming skills. It was nice to finally lay eyes on the Indian Ocean, but the boat ride was a bit of a bust. On the route back, I took random pictures to pass the time.
Beach Two
Next, we had a FULL travel day north to go to a beach called Guinjata. The AC on the bus picked the hottest day to break down so we were all good and cranky by the time we got to the beach. We spent hours on the hot bus until we got to the middle of nowhere...
My favorite activity at Guinjata was crab digging with a local family. On the second day there, I went for a walk along the beach before breakfast, and ran into a local family digging in the sand for crabs.
With little else to do, I saw no reason not to join the effort. It was great. And so was I…at first. I caught three or four within the first five minutes! Each time I would find one, I would let out a rather cowardly squeal and hand the squirming, tiny crab over to the little girl digging next to me. And each time, the group would let out a big laugh, imitate my squeal, and then smile big smiles at me. It was a fun, silly exchange. (Mozambique was colonized by Portugal, so Mozambicans speak Portuguese. And, of course, I don’t.) Alas, after my dazzling start, my crab-per-minute average dropped off precipitously. I started to feel badly that I wasn’t pulling my weight. Ahh, the pressure. Eventually, I said goodbye and headed back to the resort. (Although, on the way back, I found a REALLY big crab and I literally chased it around the beach until I was able to thump it unconscious with my shoe. I then walked it back to the family and (kind of proudly) presented it to them. They smiled as they accepted it, but looking back I'm not sure if it was a “thank you” smile or a "what a weird white lady' smile. Oh well, at least I tried to help.
Before I sign off for the day, lemme leave you with this photo of the view from my bedroom window. The roar of the crashing waves was so loud it was hard to get to sleep. Ah, the troubles I must endure.
