Mozambique | Whisked away on an adventure

The road to holiday; Mozambique

I’m on a little holiday at the mo and it’s got me reminiscing on the last adventure of it’s sort had this time last year in Mozambique. After a bell on the blower from an old friend on a Monday afternoon inviting me to his patch in Mozam, I took a flight after work on the Wednesday…  the definition of a whirlwind.

Maputo, Mozmbique

Street vendors; Mozambique

Fishing boats in Mozambique

Boys in Mozambique

The Road to the beach; Mozambique

Sunrise in Mozambique

After a brief touch down in Joburg, where I got to lovingly practice the Zulu I hadn’t used in a year, I stepped off the plane in Mozambique’s capital Maputo to be instantaneously hit by a wave of humidity my UK winter bound body was not expecting. And so it began…  a melting pot of days kick started with a meandering drive up a coastal potholed road.

We stayed at the first place we rocked up to, once we had decided that the road we had traveled on from the early am was long enough; a rondavel where lizards climbed the walls and the path to our front door led also to the beach.

Mornings started early so I could catch the sunrise over what felt like our own secret patch of beach. We chowed down on cashew nuts sold in giant bags on the side of the road, hanging from the trees they grew on and lobster from the sea that we could hear lapping the shore as we ate. We blethered with the locals, drank G & T’s till we fell asleep in the sun (before the heat drove us to swim it off), tested our 4×4’s off-roading skills, and pottered through the local markets- doing our best to mitigate some pretty sharp selling techniques. Mitigating the local police force was on the holiday cards too- young white foreigners are a good looking target for fines that will fund the PO’s lunch (we didn’t quite nail that one).

Among the flurry and haze of colour and tales that flit through my Mozambican memory bank, it’s always the sunrise’s and drives that have the lingering hold. Those are where the greatest moments are counted and curated. The ones where you have the best conversations and the best silences. Where you connect in that other worldly way with the place you find yourself in.

Adventure, my old friend (and relentless itch). Give me your next best shot.

 

2 Comments

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    • Rachel 1st April 2015

      Thanks Debbie! Kind words.

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