Day 219: Tofo to Maputo

Part of the reason we decided to come to Tofo was so that it would break up the journey to Maputo. Because what turned into eight hours was somewhat better than the fourteen or so it would have taken had we gone directly to Maputo from Vilanculos. When they say it’s a direct bus, it won’t be. When they say it leaves at 3 in the morning, it really leaves around 4. When they say it’s going to be comfortable, it won’t be. But going to Maputo meant going to South Africa, and by this point, it was the only thing getting me through.

We had a lovely lunch with a Dutch couple hoping to find work in Maputo. I wish them all the luck in the world because I could not do it. Over lunch, they were telling us how difficult it was simply finding an affordable place to live in Maputo! $3,500 on average for monthly rent. They were house sitting for some embassy friends living in a place that cost $8,000 a month. Can you even imagine? Not Seoul. Not New York City. Maputo.

We were staying at the number one hostel in Maputo and assumed it would have wi-fi. Being the capital city… The number one hostel and all… Of course, we were wrong. We were given a map that was so full of “no go” zones, mostly due to theft, mostly done by way of holding a knife up to your neck until you fork over your bag or phone that I didn’t even want to deal. Just walking a few blocks for dinner I couldn’t help but notice every house had electrical wire on top of the walls surrounding the building and a guard in front of the door. No thanks.

Instead, we cheated on our trip. We whipped out our external harddrives and watched American tv and ate popcorn in bed.

Day 218: The very bad, horrible, no good day in Tofo

Ok, so maybe it wasn’t THAT bad. But it fell into the category of “Seriously, Mozambique?” and was just one of those days where we had to grit our teeth and try to focus on how beautiful the beach was… or how happy we are (despite days like this) to be on this trip. I had to dig deep, because Mozambique is hard. It’s unlike any other country we’ve traveled through. Burma is easier than Mozambique. and cheaper. Yes, you heard me, BURMA. It’s not just third world difficult, it’s third world difficult on top of being ridiculously expensive on top of getting so little for the ridiculous amount of money you’re losing. And then it’s always having your guard up as to not get scammed or lose your bag to someone sneaky and quicker than you are. It simply takes so much energy out of you. Sometimes it felt like the equivalent of a bad day in India, only it was on three hours of sleep, so technically it might have been worse.

It all started with my day old “Ray Bans” breaking and the sunglasses vendors trying to scam me even further into new pair. It just went downhill from there. I told the vendors that I was going to post their pictures and inform the internet that they were full of lies. It was the meanest thing I could think of doing.

It’s just… Mozambique.

I came because I had heard from a friend of a friend how wonderful it was a couple of years ago. How cheap it was. And it being in between Tanzania and South Africa helped. This must have been before minerals were discovered and outside companies started investing in the land. It has driven prices up tenfold and it’s incredibly unfair to this beautiful country and it’s people. Outsiders and their money has completely ruined so much of what could be a wonderful (and not as expensive) experience!

It’s not for backpackers or anyone on any type of budget. It’s for those with a lot of money, or at least those with their own car and cooler full of food for a week. Because there are no grocery stores here that sell food other than the condiments you left in your South African home. And it’s definitely not for those who don’t like to wake up between two and three in the morning to catch a bus. Which is what we learned we’d have to do that night instead of sleeping until six and then catching a ride to Maputo.

Day 217: Tofo

Our day on the beach in Tofo was mostly spent making small talk with the vendors trying to sell bracelets and fresh fish. This particular vendor really (REALLY) wanted one of our carabiners on our backpacks. We tried to explain that we needed them, and all of our extras (which we really did have at one point) were stolen when we checked our other backpacks. He insisted that he could have just taken them from us, but he didn’t. He asked us first. We agreed that was polite of him, and thanked him for not stealing, but insisted we needed them and couldn’t give him one. Eventually, I took his picture and printed one off to give him instead. It was only then that he realized we really weren’t going to give him a carabiner.

Another favorite moment of the day: giving in to getting a massage from a woman who walked up to us on our front porch. Her opening line involved miming how small my chest was (fingers an inch apart) and how big hers was (juggling one breast with her hand). I admired her spirit and agreed to a half hour massage. She asked for a drink of my Fanta and then massaged my shoulders for five minutes before announcing she was finished. You can ask Andrew, I’m not even exaggerating. Five minutes. I KNEW I should have gotten Andrew’s watch or his phone to set the timer. She had twelve children. I’m guessing she needed a sip of Fanta and a hot minute off of her feet more than I needed a longer massage. I should have probably offered to give her a massage now that I think about it…

Later that night, Andrew and I stopped to buy a few bottles of beer from the women sitting off the side of the road. One of the women must have just been feeding one of her children, for one breast was hanging out of her dress. I wasn’t even phased. We’ve been in Africa long enough to not think this to be strange. Andrew didn’t even notice until one of her friends told her in Portugese to put her boob away. Embarrassment flashed across her face for a brief second, until she realized Andrew wasn’t the slightest bit uncomfortable.

Day 216: Vilanculos to Tofo

I know you’re jealous of all of this super fun transportation we’ve been taking lately… Too bad this image doesn’t even do the twenty+ people crammed into the mini-van justice en route from Vilanculos to Tofo.

We arrived towards the evening thinking that Tofo is a vacation spot for South Africans… and that there would be plenty of options for hostels and guesthouses and restaurants. Per usual, when we assumed something, we were totally wrong. One recommended place was booked. Another looked to be a forty minute walk down the beach- a walk we didn’t want to do with our bags.

We ended up getting an entire house to ourselves just off the beach. Had some fried calamari for dinner and called it a night.