Maputo

(written 09/26)  We spent today exploring Maputo, the capital of Mozambique. We started along the coastline, where I caught this photo. (Nothing much to say about it in terms of commentary…other than ‘cool scene, eh?’)


Architecture: You can certainly see Maputo’s history written in its architecture:

• Remnants of the colonial period (when this area was called “Portuguese West Africa”)
• Decaying Art Deco splendor (including the hotel we stayed at--Costa do Sol--which I thought was fascinating but most everyone I am traveling with hated. It had a real Cuba vibe--a feeling of decaying splendor, of being somewhere that was once opulent and trendy but has since fallen out of fashion and into disrepair)
• Countless 1970s buildings, the last era of progress before Mozambique's devastating civil war. Mozambique is now emerging from the chaotic aftermath of the civil war, but its capital city is still in an architectural time warp. [I happen to really dig mid- century architecture.]

But when I wasn't looking up at the buildings, I found Maputo is anything but frozen. It is CHAOTIC--an overwhelming blur of activity and noise... and some parts I found to be downright intimidating.  I would definitely not travel here solo!

In the end we didn’t really spend enough time in Maputo. The pace of this tour is a bit too fast. But it’s the only way I can conceive of traveling in Mozambique. Formal public transportation isn’t of the Greyhound variety here. These pictures show the 'official' public transportation in Mozambique. I like experiencing the real, authentic way people travel in a country, but for short stints…not for long distances, and certainly not alone.

Our Group
At some point during our day in Maputo we did take a ‘wee break’ [in the super-frequently-uttered words of fellow traveler Garreth] at a nice café in an upscale area. Here’s Laura (Scotland), Kate (Australia), and Garreth (No Ireland) at the café:















We’ve got a great group on this trip, with a good mix of ages and nationalities. We have a mother and daughter from Australia. A family of four from Australia. A young couple from Ireland (he) and Scotland (she). Two twenty-something friends from London. Two thirty-something friends from Austria. A retired couple from Scotland. My roommate from Brooklyn. And me.

Everyone gets along swimmingly, and we have logged countless hours discussing all manner of topics over dinner.  And those new friendships are such a fun part of international travel!

Mozambique…Now I’m in Africa

(written 09/23)   This is the Africa of my imagination…red dirt, huts, heat, women in brightly-colored sarong skirts, people selling all manner of items on the streets and carrying all manner of items on their heads. And…crushing poverty. South Africa surely presents one face of Africa, but not the one I picture when I imagine the continent. This is more like it. Here are some random snapshots of life in Mozambique:


Devastation
Mozambique is poor, very very poor. The average annual income is just US$300. And the country is still struggling to emerge from a 17 year civil war that ended in 1992.

It wasn’t a civil war, really, since the rebel group (Renamo) had no desire to govern. Its sole objective was to paralyze the country. Renamo was set up and backed by South Africa and Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) with the sole intent of destabilizing Mozambique. You see, the black consciousness movement was growing in strength in Mozambique, and South Africa and Rhodesia didn’t want that spilling over into their countries. So, they backed a rebel force that completely destroyed the country for seventeen years. That was its sole mission. Disgusting.  (Of course, the US has done the same thing, messing with other countries for its own benefit, ie…Central America in the 80s, Cold War proxy wars, etc.)

So, for almost two decades, the rebel forces destroyed roads, bridges, railways, schools and clinics. Villagers were rounded up, anyone with skills was shot, and atrocities were committed on a massive and horrific scale.  What would even remain almost two decades of wholesale destruction? Some estimate the country had been set back half a century or more. It’s been over ten years since the civil war ended, but Mozambique still shows the scars. It’s sad.

So why would I bother going to Mozambique?  That’s easy:

1. Tourism brings in much needed money.

2. Because it’s there. Because if I don’t go, I will stare at Mozambique on the map for the rest of my life, wondering what it’s like.

3. Because traveling is when I feel most alive—especially when traveling in some far off corner of the world like Mozambique. I need that right now. I need to feel alive after a year of being numb. And I need to relearn to appreciate being alive.

4. International travel always keeps one promise: it reminds me of all that I have. It makes me feel very grateful. This trip is no different.

But, it’s also a bit confusing right now. I am depressed. I don’t want life without Warren. But I stare out the window at the passing landscape of poverty and hardship, and I simultaneously feel very lucky. The latter doesn’t ‘cure’ the former. I feel both emotions at once.

And so I just stare out the window, waiting for all of it to come together in some logical way, waiting for that big epiphany that makes life good again.

(…You know, the big epiphany that will never come if I am waiting for it. Oops, getting too Zen for a blog about Africa. Wrong continent.)

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.