Loading...
Start a new Travel Blog! Blogabond Home Maps People Photos My Stuff

MarcusInAfrica

45 Blog Entries
1 Trip
354 Photos

Trips:

Cape to Cardiff

Shorthand link:

http://blogabond.com/MarcusInAfrica



Buddy List

maddief
maddief



A Welcome Return To South Africa

Nelspruit, South Africa


Look What I Can See
I had initially planned to head north towards Zambia from Vilanculos, that was until Mum and Dad had invited me to travel through Botswana with them and Alena and I had decided we would spend a week together in and around the Kruger Park and Blyde River Canyon area.


Hippo Head In Full Flight
Having met Alena in Tofo, where we spent a week together, it was clear there was a special connection between us and thus we decided before she went back to Germany, and I continued on with my travels, we had to spend another week together. A week that saw us have an amazing time exploring and two of the best days ever in the Kruger Park.


One, Two, Three, Weeeeee
The week started in Nelspruit, which is not the most inspiring of towns, but gave us the perfect base to rent a car from and plan the next step of our trip. The road took us towards Hazyview, where we camped for two nights, but not before stopping off at Mac Mac Pools for a rather refreshing swim. Having stayed in a hotel the first few nights it was nice to sleep in a tent, and be able to have a camp fire on arriving in Hazyview.


Don't Look Back Now
I must admit that it was Alena's fire-starting skills that enabled us to have fire. My fire-starting ability usually relies on petrol or any other flammable liquid I can find, where as Alena is a touch more gifted when it comes to making fire. However, once the fire was going I had no problems taking it from a small contained camp fire into something that you could burn a witch on.


Trousers The African Way
From our base in Hazyview we took advantage of the natural beauty of the area, taking a mountain bike ride through the forest to an amazing waterfall, where we found a rope swing to amuse ourselves on. It was whilst in Hazyview that I found out Alena had never been to the Kruger Park, and thus the next few days of our trip were planned for us - we would take the car and tent into the park and stay overnight there.


I Give You Melman
Taking our own car into the Kruger made me realise this is in fact the only way to do the Kruger. Rather than having some mad Steve Irwin wannabe hurtling around at a hundred miles an hour trying to spot an elephant's backside to say he showed you one of the big five, you can in fact take your leisurely time and see so much more of what the park has to offer.


He's Behind You!
In the two days we were there we saw everything you could want to see, apart from a lion, but our cheetah experience more than made up for that. With the sun set and dark approaching we saw what looked like a lioness cross the road up in front of us, which caused great excitement as we pulled over where we thought she had gone back into the bush. At first we didn't see anything, and then suddenly I realised it was not a lioness we had seen, but a cheetah, and what's more it was sat less than a metre in front of us.


What You Looking At Punk?
Alena slowly pulled the car forward, so that we were right next to the cheetah, and there we sat for close to a minute whilst the cheetah sat there without a care in the world before getting up and sauntering off. Now I have been lucky to see some great wildlife in my life but never have I been so close to such a revered wild cat - it set my pulse racing and is something I wont forget in a hurry. The only downside was that by this stage of the day the battery on my camera had died, so saldy no pictures for you all to see!


Give Us A Kiss!
On leaving the park our week was sadly coming towards an end, but not before a trip to the Sudwela Caves, which are the oldest known caves in the world, before heading to Johanesburg. Saying goodbye to Alena at the airport was not easy, especially given how our feelings had grown for each other, but knowing I will see her again on my journey makes things a little easier.

It was at the airport where I met Mum and Dad again and set off for a week in Botswana, of which the story will follow shortly, so join us again at the same time next week for the latest adventures of one boy's story of living the dream in Africa.

permalink written by  MarcusInAfrica on April 28, 2009 from Nelspruit, South Africa
from the travel blog: Cape to Cardiff
Send a Compliment

A Wedding in Paradise

Vilankulo, Mozambique


The Wedding Boat At Benguerra Island
If someone had, at the start of this trip, told me I would be attending my parents wedding in Vilanculos I would have quite literally laughed at them. But, thirteen years after the initial proposal, Mum and Dad finally got married at North Point on Benguerra Island.


The Ride To North Point Beach
It had started as a normal day, Peet, Dad and myself were off fishing whilst Mum and Sue were going to spend the day relaxing at North Point - which for the record is one of the most perfect beaches in the world. All was going to plan until the swell picked up to around five metres and our fishing plans were scuppered, prompting a return to North Point for a few rum and cokes whilst we made a new plan for the day.


The Wedding Party
That plan was to take the boat to Benguerra Lodge and have a drink there before heading back to mainland. Only one drink lead to two, and two drinks lead to a wedding being planned. As is, or should I now say was, often the case the topic of why Mum and Dad weren't married came up over drinks, which is not unusual. What was unusual was Mum didn't try and change the subject, but rather made a pact with me that if I could find a priest she would get married whilst in Mozambique.


The Happy Couple At The Wedding Chapel
Not one to waste time no sooner had she shaken my hand than I was up and off to get Mum and Dad married, with a little help from Benguerra Lodge. Two days later and we were wading out towards Peet's boat heading back to Benguerra Island for Mum and Dad's wedding - a day I know Dad had been longing for for many years.


I Take Thee....
After a drinks reception at Benguerra Lodge it was on to North Point where the wedding chapel had been prepared, in a very African style. With the English speaking minister being on holiday we had to settle for a minister who only spoke Portuguese, which meant a good friend of Sue and Peet's came along to translate so we would all understand.


You May Now Kiss The Bride
The wedding itself was simple yet beautiful, and from my point of view it was a very special day to finally see two people, so clearly in love, uniting their relationship in matrimony. Not that I have never seen our family as anything but that, but with Mum and Dad finally getting married it also united us as a complete family. With the vows completed, Mum and Dad were officially husband and wife, a day I think most of us didn't think we would see!


The Happy Couple
After enjoying the sunset and a camp fire it was time to depart, leaving Mum and Dad at the Lodge for the night, whilst the rest of the wedding party braved the journey back home in Peet's boat. It was interesting to say the least, dark skies, choppy waters, merry (to say the least) passengers and a skipper who only knew one speed - flat out.

Whilst it was not something Mum and Dad had planned on doing whilst in Mozambique their wedding was a special day, one that they will never forget, and certainly one I will never forget. So all that is left to say is, congratulations Mum and Dad.

permalink written by  MarcusInAfrica on April 18, 2009 from Vilankulo, Mozambique
from the travel blog: Cape to Cardiff
Send a Compliment

The High Life in Vilankulo

Vilankulo, Mozambique


The Perfect Sunrise

Aside from almost killing a security guard my first few days in Vilanculos were pretty uneventful, that said I did have the pleasure of helping Eusabio build his piroque. However, the arrival of Mum and Dad, along with their good friends Sue and Peet, signaled the start of some rather special adventures - not to mention a wedding (more of that in the next blog).


Eusabio and His Masterpiece
I was expecting to be staying with Sue and Peet, and then booking various activities to get the full experience in Vilanculos. Yet when I arrived at the airport to meet everyone I knew this would be quite a special week. I had been told to arrive at the airport at 11:30, which I did despite being babolas (hung over), only to discover there were no scheduled flights due to arrive until 15:30. There was however a private flight landing at 11:30 - somehow Mum had failed to inform me Peet had his own plane!


My Reading Hut
From that moment on I knew the week ahead would be quite a special one, and on arriving at Sue and Peet's house I was blown away - most people don't even have a first house like this, let alone a holiday house in Mozambique. The views were simply breathtaking, and rather than try and describe them I will let the pictures tell the story here.


Sunrise At Kingfisher Bay
Peet's big passion is fishing, a passion he has indulged in for some forty years now, and the fishing in Vilanculos is very good to say the least. Our first attempt was cut short by an unexpected swell of close to five metres, although all was not lost, as this aborted fishing trip started the process of arranging Mum and Dad's wedding (of which the full story will follow in the next blog).


Dad Getting To Grips With A Tuna
Day two on the fishing front was, in mine and Dad's eyes at least, a huge success - although Peet and Nico said they had experienced hundreds of better days. Still, Dad and I both caught some nice fish, including a double catch of Rock Cod each, a small Tuna and a King Mackerel. Technically we were not meant to keep the Rock Cod, as they were caught inside the Vilanculos National Park, but seeing as there was nobody to prevent us doing so we took them home for dinner. This is, without doubt, the nicest fish I have ever eaten and I recommend that everyone catches an illegal Rock Cod and eats it.

The Illegal Rock Cod


The King Mackerel
Having spent the best part of six weeks sleeping in dorms and living on a tight budget it was a pleasure to have a little bit of luxury again - with luxury being my own room and hot water, as well as staff to do the cooking, washing and anything else I happened to need doing. I have to say, whilst this was a privilege it was not one I would want everyday. As odd is this may sound to some people I actually take great pleasure in doing everything myself, and knowing I am self-sufficient, rather than coming to expect people to do things for me.

A Dead Shark

The fishing and wedding aside the week was spent in a very relaxed state of mind, so much so that most days started with a gin and tonic after breakfast and consisted of plenty of reading, lounging around, walks on the beach and just generally recharging the batteries, which is just what the doctor ordered. Before bringing this entry to an end I must just once again say a huge thank you to Sue and Peet for their incredible hospitality. That's all for now, join me for a wedding in paradise in the next blog.


A Boat With A View

permalink written by  MarcusInAfrica on April 14, 2009 from Vilankulo, Mozambique
from the travel blog: Cape to Cardiff
Send a Compliment

How Not to Use a Leatherman

Vilankulo, Mozambique


The Beach Of The Near Stabbing
There comes a time when you are travelling in Africa that you begin to crave certain items and food types that are not as readily available as you may like. After close to seven weeks on the road my first craving arrived, yet had I known the trouble acquiring it would lead to I think I may have just left it as a craving.

It started out as an innocent pizza run, it ended with a 4x4 stuck on the beach and a security guard nearly being stabbed. I should have seen that the omens were bad right from the start, with both delivery drivers at the pizza place off sick, but instead I let my stomach take control and the eternal quest for a pizza was on, aided by a couple of jolly nice public school chaps from England.

George, who lives in Tanzania, was happy for John, who lives in Bermuda, to drive me to get the pizza in his 4x4, which sounded like a fool proof plan. Wrong. For some inexplicable reason the lights on the truck failed the moment we got back in with a nice warm pizza. This being Africa we didn't think too much off it, after all most cars in Africa run below the required standard of an M.O.T.


Stuck In The Sand
Five minutes later, navigating our way down dirt tracks and through small villages the lack of lights started to become quite a problem, so much so we missed the turning we wanted and before we knew it we were on the beach - stuck in sand. After a few choice expletives from both of us John volunteered to run the last few kilometres and fetch George who would be able to help us out of this, leaving me to eat my pizza on the beach.

As an extra safety precaution, as it clearly says in all backpackers and guide books to avoid being on unlit beaches at night, we locked the car whilst I stood outside eating - this way if anybody came to steal the car it would be locked and John would have the keys. It wasn't quite how I had envisioned eating my pizza, by moonlight on a desolate stretch of beach, but nonetheless I was going to enjoy it.

I was a good three slices in when I saw a figure approaching from the dark, which put me on alert. My mind went from that of a happy pizza eater to a knife wielding killer. Armed with my leatherman I thought if this guy thinks he can just stroll over here and attempt to steal the car he will have to fight me for it, and so I began to advance, slowly, towards him.

My pulse was racing and my hand gripping the knife tight, the figure getting closer, his features starting to become a little more distinguished so that I could almost see the face of my would-be attacker. This was it, I was going to have to stab this man else he would surely steal George's car, and given it was my desire for pizza that had lead to this situation I felt a duty to protect the car.

With the distance between myself and said attacker down to seven metres, and me ready to take a few more steps before lunging in with a killer blow, I suddenly noticed a friendly smile on his face. Another step forward and, with the help of the moonlight, I notice a badge on his shirt that read 'GAC Security'. Suddenly I felt rather stupid, knife still at the ready, as this wasn't an attacker, rather the local security guard seeing if he could help us out of the predicament we had found ourselves in.


Me And The Pizza That Caused The Trouble
Needless to say I hastily tried to conceal the knife, whilst mumbling something about the beach being a dangerous place and it's better to be safe than sorry. Thankfully the security guard didn't realise I was two seconds away from stabbing him, and was more than happy to wait by the car with me until George and John returned to rescue the truck from the beaches clutches.

When Maddie brought me the leatherman I am sure she thought it would be useful in many different ways, but I am almost certain she never once thought, 'this will be perfect for Marcus to stab security guards with on the beach in Mozambique'. It's safe to say that from now on I will be using the leatherman for its many intended uses, of which stabbing people is not one.

permalink written by  MarcusInAfrica on April 9, 2009 from Vilankulo, Mozambique
from the travel blog: Cape to Cardiff
Send a Compliment

Surf's Up Dude

Inhambane, Mozambique


A Perfect Sunrise
Having secured the extension on my Mozambican visa that I required in order to see Mum and Dad in Vilankulo I was faced with a decision, move on from Tofo or wait out the time there. It was whilst sat on the beach, weighing up the pros and cons of both options, that the decision was, to a large extent, made for me.


The First Lesson Of Surfing!
When someone offers to teach you to surf, which for the record is a damn sight harder than people make it look, you tend not to turn the offer down. When you add into the equation that the someone is a beautiful German girl the answer is pretty simple - and so it was another week in Tofo for me. A week of surfing, or at least attempting to surf, eating prawns and fish, watching sunrises, enjoying Alena's company and generally living the dream - what more could I ask for?


Alena - My Surf Coach
Before last week my surfing experiences had been limited to watching people surf from the safety of the beach, in various locations, and the classic animated film 'Surf's Up'. I wasn't expecting it to be easy, but given my love for all sports, and a very competitive nature, I at least thought I would have a fighting chance of making a half decent fist of things. Wrong.

During the first two hour lesson, which admittedly involved a lot of lying on the board and just talking behind the break, I managed to catch just one wave, and then spent the next fifteen minutes fighting my way back through breaking waves to get to where I wanted to be. It didn't help that the board was shorter than me (not that I am making excuses for my efforts), so every time I paddled it felt like I was on a capsizing boat.


Me and Alena On The Dhow
The second session, for which I had a longer board, was not quite as successful (if you can call the first one a success from a surfing point of view) but confirmed that once back in Cape Town next year surfing is something I want to pursue. There is something quite special about floating on the water, the sound of the water the only thing you can hear, apart from Alena's shouts of 'paddle, paddle, paddle' every time a wave came. But apparently no matter how hard I paddled I was not destined to catch another wave, not this time anyway.


Sunrise In Tofo
Various people had told me that sunrise at Tofo was a magical spectacle, which wasn't hard to believe given the natural beauty of the area, but the idea of getting up at 05:30 to witness it was not such an appealing prospect. So rather than get up for it, why not just stay up all night to witness it - which is exactly what myself and Alena did, and we were not disappointed. They say a picture says a thousand words, so rather than try and do it justice myself, I will rather let you see the pictures and make your own mind up.


The KTM Adventure
With my time in Tofo slowly coming to an end a day of adventure was needed, which consisted in a traditional dhow ride at Inhambane, followed by some play time on one of my dream bikes, the KTM Adventure. If my scooter in Cape Town was the amateur sportsman who plays for fun, the KTM is the seasoned professional at the top of his game. It was a beast, and had the power to prove it - which being the sort who acts first and thinks later I discovered when I gave it horns, hanging on for dear life as I saw the speedometer race past 150kmph.

For now I am in Vilankulo, after saying farewell to Tofo and my surf coach, awaiting the arrival of Mum and Dad and a week away from the rigours of backpacking. Don't change the channel as I will be right back after this short intermission.

permalink written by  MarcusInAfrica on April 8, 2009 from Inhambane, Mozambique
from the travel blog: Cape to Cardiff
Send a Compliment

The End Is Nigh...

Inhambane, Mozambique


The Two Amigoes (Myself and Hans)
Surely this isn't how it would end. Yet in my head that's what seemed like was happening, the curse of the witch doctor coming to haunt me, or worse yet malaria. With every step I took I was becoming weaker, and yet I pushed on knowing if I could get to me room everything would be ok, or at least I hoped it would be. Vision going blurred, narrow and short, temperature rising, but only another five metres to go, and then the sanctity of my bed and sleep.

Suddenly everything is black, and I have no memory of getting into bed. Who turned the lights out? Did I tuck my mosquito net in? Then it dawned on me, I wasn't in bed. So where was I? A voice in my head was telling me to open my eyes, yet my eyes simply didn't want to open. Eventually I forced one eye open, and just as I had thought I was not in bed, rather I was sprawled, lifeless, on the sand outside of my hut.

Panic set in as the fever engulfed my body, sweat running off me like water, energy continuing to sap away. If only I could get into my hut I would somehow survive this. With the last delusional ounces of energy that remained in my body I dragged myself into my room and onto my bed, where I let my body fall into a stupor, my mind going back over those two days with the witch doctor trying to work out when he had cursed my health....


The Witch Doctor's Village
Hans, Lineah (two friends from San Francisco I had made in Tofo) and myself, after quite a walk through the hills, arrived at the village where the local witch doctor, who had agreed to see us and answer out questions about his trade, resided. Whilst Hans, a fellow writer, and I were there for research purposes, Lineah came along purely for the experience - which was also a contributing factor for myself.

Despite Hans being close to fluent in Portuguese he knew not a word of Shangana or Matso (the only languages Samwuel the witch doctor spoke), and thus we had employed the services of a local craftsman to act as a translator, whilst Hans put everything into English for Lineah and myself. After exchanging pleasantires we were given an open floor to ask whatever we wanted, although it only took two questions before Samwuel offered to do a spiritual reading for each of us, which was an offer we could not refuse.


The Witch Doctor's Tikholo
I came into this trip knowing the best tool I could take was an open mind, and therefore thought I would give Samwuel a chance and see if he was as genuine as he proclaimed. Needless to say I was not disappointed. With the help of his Tikholo, a bizarre collection of shells, a dice, an old coin and various bones, some of which had silver or gold entwined in them, he entered into a deep conversation with my spirits. Before I continue I must stress I don't expect everyone to believe in what I am recanting, rather this is my own personal experience, and everyone has the right to draw their own conclusions.

Over the next fifteen minutes, which saw Samwuel continuoisly gather his Tikholo in both hands, before tapping them on the floor and scattering them - all the while muttering away to my spirits in an almost trance like state - he made four bizarre, yet wholly accurate revelations about me. They were as follows:

1. In the past I have had a tendancy to start many things, but failed to see all of them through.
2. When I dream my dreams only come right at the end of my sleep, if they come at all.
3. Despite having been in my percieved dream job for the last two years it only ever paid me just enough to get by each monnth.
4. I have knee problems and have had, in the past, two operations on my left knee.

There will be those will say that some of his revelations were a touch vague, and could have been lucky guesses - yet like I said before, each was unnervingly accurate to me. Despite having an open mind, I must admit that the second phase of the visit, which took part the following day, was, whilst a unique experience, not something I could believe in.

...Nothing there to sugest I had been cursed, or had he done it just by talking to my spirits? I tried to focus on what was real, the present and not the past, yet as the fever grew my thoughts could only focus on the idea I had been cursed, or had somehow contracted malaria...


The Witch Doctor's Hut
All I knew was that a bath had been prepared for me, and for it to be complete I had to proccure two eggs from the next village across, which was an easy enough task. Stripped down to my boxers and feeling a little uneasy, given that I was in the middle of the village, I was instructed to go to the shower area, and remember that at no stage could I look behind me. The bath turned into a cold wash, given by Samwuel's wife, with the herbal water, complete with two raw eggs stirred in, that was rubbed enthusiastically all over my body as I hung my head over the tub holding the liquid.

On completition of the bath I was sent to the edge of the village, where I had to wait for Hans to complete his bath - for he had gone through a similar process to me. The final act, which was by far the weirdest, was the making of the oil that I was to take away and rub over my body everytime I had a shower. Here Samwuel went into some deep trance, alternating between putting powder into the oil and his mouth!

...Still my temperature rises, my eyes rolling in my head and thoughts of a nasty and lonely end enter my mind. Still nothing of a curse, but then I haven't remembered the money and how he spat all over it...

With the oil made a price was agreed upon, which was too high for me, and too low for him - as is often the way in Africa - but both parties finally settled on it and the money was exchanged. Samwuel then informed us that the ritual he would perform with the money was to cast any evil spirits from my body into the money, and thus began a bizarre series of chants as he poured what appeared to be water over the floor, before taking a mouthful himself. That is when he looked to the heavens and spewed the liquid all over the money and various powders on the floor.

...Back in my room it dawned on me what was wrong. Through all of the time with Samwuel, which was close to two days, I had not drunk any water. So rather than dying of malaria or an evil curse I diagnosed myself with a simple case of dehydration - which still wasn't the nicest experience. Back to full fitness my travels are set to continue, right after I have caught up on some beach time.

permalink written by  MarcusInAfrica on March 30, 2009 from Inhambane, Mozambique
from the travel blog: Cape to Cardiff
Send a Compliment

An Angry Fisherman and Mr Sura

Inhambane, Mozambique


Me and Vincent In The Sura Den
It took me less than two days to become well known with the locals in Tofo. Mainly because I was more than happy to eat with them in the little shacks that acted as kitchens, serving basic, yet tasty, African food - but also because of two separate incidents.


The Sura Queens
The first revolved around Sura, the local palm wine (which is not sold over the counter), and the second involved an angry and drunk fisherman. Sura is made on a daily basis in Tofo, and relies on Lobster John, so called because his eyes are as red as a lobster from too much Sura, climbing various coconut trees to collect the sap of the leaves. This liquid, mixed with a drop of water, is then boiled up over an open fire before being left to cool, after which it's poured through a wire mesh to catch any unwanted dregs.

As I said it's not sold over the counter, as I found out when I asked about it, but rather from an illegal drinking den behind the market. Without a local to show you the way it would be impossible to find this den, but once inside there are never less than ten people there drinking as two ladies make a constant supply of the hooch. At this stage I must stress this drink tastes disgusting, but at ten meticals (25p) a litre, is the cheapest and most effective way for the locals to get drunk.


Distilling Sura For The Locals
I spent the best part of an hour in the den talking to slurring men, and learning the tricks of making the drink from the two 'Sura Queens', whilst supping on a few glasses to get an idea of how potent, and disgusting, it was. I was informed that too much will lead to a temporary loss of sight, which, for reasons still unknown to me, seemed like a challenge and thus I purchased a litre for the evenings festivities. Whilst I didn't go blind it was with the greatest of difficulty that I staggered back to my room at the end of the night, not to mention feeling like a bus had reversed over my head the following morning. I am now known in the local market as 'Mr Sura', and can't walk anywhere near the den without being offered in for a free drink - needless to say I politely decline.

One man who doesn't decline is the fisherman who got a little hot under the collar when he saw me snapping a picture of his fish stand, which for him is conveniently located just over the square from the Sura den. Apparently by taking a picture of his stall I was putting his business at jeopardy, and this is what followed:

Fisherman (speaking with a slight slur and fish blood on his hands): No picture unless you pay.
Me: Why must I pay?
Fisherman (trying to grab my camera): You ruin my business, take photo out now.
Me (putting a hand on his chest to keep him back): No, and get your filthy hands away from me.
Fisherman: Twenty meticals for pictures.
Me: I already said no you drunken fool.

By this stage a small group of other fisherman had gathered and were watching the situation with amusement all over their faces.

Fisherman: Ok we go to the police station.
Me: It's not against the law to take a photo.
Fisherman (making another lunge for my camera): Get the photo out of there now.
Me: (pushing him away from me again): I said no.
Fisherman (noticing the other fisherman laughing, and accompanied with an unsavoury hand gesture): You lot go f@@k yourselves.


The Picture That Got Me Into Trouble
In the end I defused the situation, which involved a fair bit of pushing on my behalf, and wild lunging on his, by showing him one of the pictures I had taken before turning the camera off and telling him it had gone. Despite being drunk he wasn't falling for that one, so I had to delete the worst of the pictures before he calmed down enough to let me walk off. On seeing him the next day, in a sober state I might add, he was full of apologies for the way he acted, although I had a feeling that was due to the fact he wanted to sell me some fish.

My time in Tofo will continue, although I will not be here for as long as I first planned - but rather I will venture further north for a few weeks before coming south to meet Mum and Dad in Vilankulos.

permalink written by  MarcusInAfrica on March 20, 2009 from Inhambane, Mozambique
from the travel blog: Cape to Cardiff
Send a Compliment

The Other Side of Maputo

Maputo, Mozambique


A Proud Gran On The Ferry To Catembe
My last day In Maputo was spent in the sleepy suburb of Catembe - reached by taking a short ferry ride from the port in the heart of the city across to Catembe itself. It is literally a stones throw from the city, and yet is a tale of contrasts in every sense, and provides the perfect foil to the city.

Catembe is unique in that it is nothing like the rest of Maputo, or any city for that matter, yet it fits the vibe perfectly. Bars line the dusty streets, frequented by the local 'fly girls and boys' who love to party at the weekends, and life is lived at the slowest of paces - which suited my mood perfectly at the time.


Smiling In The Face Of Adversity
With it being a Saturday the mood was relaxed as the locals enjoyed glasses of cold beer out on the dusty streets, in preparation for the party that would evolve later - and I was assured there would be a party, as there was every Saturday. I sat with my own beer, and book, watching the world go by, soaking up the atmosphere as the dulcet tones of music, from various bars, filled the cool air.

It is worth pointing out that these are not bars as you and I know them, but rather small shacks with no seating inside, that serve a seemingly endless supply of cold beers from the hatches at the front. Seats and tables deck the streets as patrons chat and play backgammon, periodically shouting, because of the music, for a fresh beer. Most share their beers, in order to make sure their amber nectar is always cold, and most seemed to accompany it with freshly roasted nuts, either cashews or peanuts.

Having sunk a few cold ones I ventured along the main, and only, street with bars on, mixing with the locals. Through the bits of Portuguese I had picked up, and their broken English I was able to hold half decent conversations with them, but it was a game of pool that proved the perfect ice-breaker. In keeping with the nature of the place the pool tables were out on the street and were run by a winner stays on system - meaning if you were good you could play for free all day.


Shooting Pool Maputo Style
I put my five metical coin down, in a row of nine, and stood by waiting for my turn. Many locals would just stop by for one game, often on their way back to the ferry or to take a break from drinking beer, but there was a hard core of about seven or eight who never left the tables. My turn soon came along, and it pitted me against a wily old man who had held the table for a number of games - hence it gave me great pleasure to bring his run to an end. Sadly that was as good as it got, with my next game coming to a premature end as I sunk the black a little too early!

With that it was time to catch the ferry back across to the city, knowing the next day would see me heading north to the costal village of Tofo - where life was even more laid back than in Catembe.


The View From Catembe To Maputo

permalink written by  MarcusInAfrica on March 19, 2009 from Maputo, Mozambique
from the travel blog: Cape to Cardiff
Send a Compliment

The Magic of Maputo

Maputo, Mozambique


The View From The Base
What a difference a border crossing makes, or rather two as was the case in getting from Durban to Maputo. Leaving Durban was not a hardship, in fact I was happy to be back on the road and heading north towards the real Africa. Having lived in Cape Town since October 2006 I didn't exactly view South Africa in the same light as the rest of the continent - and thus was eager to see my visa stamped out for the time being.

The crossing into Swaziland will be, I should imagine, the easiest of all my border crossings over the coming year, and was certainly so compared to the crossing into Mozambique. Having been warned that border officials are unlike the rest of the human race - they seem to have had the section of their brain removed that allows us to smile and laugh - I knew I would have to be all smiles and the example of politeness.

Even that didn't work, although once I flashed the dollars for my visa they soon sparked into action and began helping me fill out a form that, in all honesty, merits an A-Level just for completing it. Still I had my visa and was, in my eyes, officially travelling - that state of limbo was fading rapidly, to be replaced by the first real pangs of genuine excitement since I left Cape Town.


Dusk At The Base Backpackers
Not being a huge fan of cities, an obvious few such as Cape Town, San Francisco and Sydney aside, I have been pleasantly surprised by Maputo - so much so I have opted to have an extra day here before making the journey to Tofo. What I think appeals to me the most is that the locals let you get on with your life, allowing ones self to blend into the everyday scenery. There is a tendency in African countries for the traveller to be seen as a cash buffalo, leading to all sorts of predators flanking you until you eventually give in and buy something from them.

This is one aspect of African life I don't like, and there is only one place in Maputo where you need to be more forceful than a polite 'no' for people to leave you be - the fish market. Here, slightly away from the bustling streets of the city centre, anyone who steps foot into the market is an open target to be hunted down. Before the hawkers, with their sculptures, art, pirate DVDs and all manner of other curios, get a chance to sink their claws into you the chefs are in with the initial blow.


My Prawn Queen
In a nutshell the market works like this; as you enter there are the rickety wooden stalls with all manner of fresh fish and seafood for sale, after which comes a series of small restaurants built around a small sandy 'market square' so to speak, which backs onto the stalls. The concept is simple, you buy whatever fish, prawns, crab, squid (I could go on) you want and then either take it home or have one of the restaurants cook it for you - and therein lies the problem.


Say Hello To Lunch
Every chef descends on you as if you were the last diner on earth, telling you how he will cook your food before you have even chosen it. It took me one trip around all the stalls just to shake the persistent chefs off, but once that was achieved the real business of haggling could begin. In the end I settled for a kilo of king prawns, no more than six hours out of the sea, for the princely sum of five pounds - and for another pound I had them cooked perfectly on an open fire.


The Perfect Meal For This Traveller
Luckily I had a good book with me, so could hide behind it and ignore any would be hawker who thought it necessary to offer me his wares even though I had turned them all away at least twice. So, the market aside, Maputo has an easy-going, laid-back atmosphere that lends itself to my personality and it will be with fond memories and more than favourable impressions that I leave here for Tofo on Sunday.

permalink written by  MarcusInAfrica on March 13, 2009 from Maputo, Mozambique
from the travel blog: Cape to Cardiff
Send a Compliment

A World Cup and Some Aussie Hospitality

Durban, South Africa

Having stocked up on enough adrenaline to spark a herd of stoned elephants into life I set off for Durban, via the Transkei (now known as the Wild Coast), in order to catch the last few days of the second cricket Test between South Africa and Australia. It would have been the last three days, but I got side tracked at an amazing backpackers called Buccaneers - the venue where I watched Wales win the Rugby Sevens World Cup!

My time at Buccaneers was spent relaxing and taking long strolls along the beach and just reconnecting with myself in general, and all at my old companies expense - their leaving present was two days and nights all paid for at Buccs. Had it not been for the lure of some live sport, and a spot of Aussie baiting, I would have happily bypassed Durban, but as it was it was a worthwhile stop - not least because I got to see Tristan, who was working at the cricket.


Walking On Cintsa Beach


The Sands Of Time
In my eyes Australians are, on an individual basis, more or less like marmite - you either love them or hate them. Now I can't speak for every Australian, but the ones I met at the cricket were a great bunch and certainly knew how to celebrate winning the cricket. Luke, the leader of Australia's version of the Barmy Army, rallied his troops to put on a braai that equalled any I have had in South Africa.

Up In The Air: Kite Surfers On Cintsa Beach


Test Match Cricket In Durban
At this point it may be prudent to point out he did win 240 cans of beer, and enough money to buy three cows, in a 'hit the wicket' competition at the cricket. We all know the Aussies enjoy their beer, but even Luke admitted the prospect of drinking all 240 cans in the space of 19 hours before his flight to Cape Town was lacking in appeal - and he calls himself an Aussie. Still the rest of us were not complaining as he furnished us with as much beer and steak as we could put away.

Having done what I wanted to do in Durban I began to get a little restless, not to mention depressed, about being in another South African city that wasn't Cape Town. I felt like I was in limbo, here I was away from all that I knew, yet so much of it was not new and thus left me feeling neither here nor there. With that in mind I opted to push on for Maputo the following day in a hope that once out of South Africa I would really feel like I was travelling, instead of craving being back in Cape Town.

The details of Maputo will follow, but needless to say the change of environment - for one where everything is new and exciting - has helped lift my spirits and let me focus on the road ahead rather that what has been left behind. There are still moments where I miss Cape Town and people there, but this is the path I have chosen and it is one, with a little bit of luck, that will change my life forever. I can, however, safely say, wherever my chosen path leads me it will not change the fact my heart lies in Cape Town, and one day I will be back there - maybe even for good.

permalink written by  MarcusInAfrica on March 12, 2009 from Durban, South Africa
from the travel blog: Cape to Cardiff
Send a Compliment
Viewing 31 - 40 of 44 Entries
first | previous | next | last



author feed
 author kml

Heading South?

Online Spanish lessons with a live personal tutor FairTutor can hook you up with Online Spanish lessons with a live personal tutor. It's pretty sweet! Online Spanish lessons with a live personal tutor www.fairtutor.com
Navigate
Home
Find Blogs
Find People
Find Places
Find Photos
Browse Tags
Make Maps
Write a Blog Entry
search
Login

go
create a new account



   

Blogabond v2.40.58.80 © 2024 Expat Software Consulting Services about : press : rss : privacy
View as Map View as Satellite Imagery View as Map with Satellite Imagery Show/Hide Info Labels Zoom Out Zoom In Zoom Out Zoom In
find city: