Tofo

We started early (again) on our way to Tofo from Maputo. Sean and I shared a taxi with Michelle and Martin to the bus station 7km outside of town. All I can say is, just nobody mention the egg sandwich!

It seems as well that in Mozambique people are now trying to charge you for taking bags on board buses. This is frankly stupid, especially when locals take chickens, sacks of rice and plastic buckets with them everywhere. I'm certain they're not succumbing to these additional fees! Anyway, we managed to haggle our way out of the 'bag fees' by shoving our bags under the seats by our feet (like everyone else does!). Still, it's good to know that no matter where you are in Africa people still run up to the side of the bus to sell their wares:

The bus journey was long and filled with stops to let the old man in the back seat go to the toilet and the many other people fill up with sodas along the way. I'm also pretty sure that the two person seat Sean and I were sat on moved forward as the woman behind us pushed us with her plastic bowl as my leg room seemed to reduce over time.

Anyway! We changed at Inhambane. Before negotiating our first chapa ride we found a pastelaria selling that bread we now loved as a lunchtime snack. Then we headed back to the bus station to find something that would take us to Tofo.

We were offered some crazy prices to get us there. Some were just so crazy we laughed. But eventually we had to succumb to the bag fee just to get moving. I'm pretty sure that the lady with the bucket of fish wasn't charged to bring that on board though. And after all that, Martin was still stuck up the front squished behind the railing!

Arriving in Tofo I knew instantly that I was going to like it. The chapa dropped us off in the centre and we had to make our own way 2km down the road to Bamboozi Lodge. It was a pretty pleasant walk, and we kinda liked it after being squished up in a bus all that time. Michelle and Martin wanted to try somewhere else that they'd been recommended so we parted ways with a plan to meet up for dinner later.

Sean and I took two dorm beds and headed up to the bar for a drink. When we came back to the dorm, Martin & Michelle turned up having decided the other place wasn't for them and they had even managed to bargain a bungalow for the price of the dorm - an offer that of course we then piggy backed on! Hooray for upgrades!

It was great to have them at the same place as us and that night we played Carcassonne in the bar over a tasty seafood basket. And to complete the party, Alan - our other new friend from Maputo - even turned up too!

The next day we wandered into town, looking around the varied craft markets. We found a place that would sell us cheap bottles of beer and bought some vegetables. We even bumped into Tom and Betty, our first customers whilst we were 'running' the Mushroom Farm in Malawi. They were doing a string of dives in the area and having a great time. Was so nice to see them!

We returned to Bamboozi with our crate of beers and sat drinking one as the sun went down.

An evening of egg fried rice and Carcassonne followed. Bliss.

We decided the next day that we wanted to sample some of this fish that everyone was offering. Buying it turned out to be a bit of a nightmare. There wasn't the same amount of fish on offer this day as there had been the night before and so Michelle, Martin and I went to the beach and played Carcassonne whilst Sean hunted out the fishy deals. He managed to get a load of Crayfish for a very good price in the end and so we headed back to cook it up!

It didn't disappoint either. Michelle asked the kitchen how best to cook it (boil for 5 mins apparently) and we feasted and played... yes, that's right.. Caracassonne. Unfortunately we had to say goodbye to Alan that night too as he heads up to Malawi.

The remaining four of us decided to stay just one more night before tearing ourselves away to head further north. And good job too because the nice boys on reception bumped Sean and I up again into a chalet for our final night because we'd told them it was our honeymoon (well come on, technically it is, it's our honey-sun - we won't be getting a honeymoon proper). They even dressed the room with flowers and fruits, bless them!

That final day we spent lazing on the beach and swimming in the sea.

Whilst tucking into the last of the crayfish on our last night, we met Richard from South Africa who gave us tips on our next destination of Vilankulos. Michelle & Martin even bought some of the local booze - Tipo Tinto - to try. Basically rum, good with coke.

Tofo is a charming little town with a gorgeous beach and well worth a visit. We're sad to leave. But on we must march!

Here are the photos:

BT83_Tofo 23 - 26 June 2011

Much Ado In Maputo

Sean and I met an English/Canadian couple called Michelle and Martin on our bus from Manzini to Maputo. We hit it off with these guys instantly. Michelle is originally a Brummie, but now lives in Canada for a long term working for Cancer Research. Martin is Canadian and has designs to set up his own tour company doing tours around BC.

The journey to Mozambique was actually very quick and thankfully we weren't the 4 people squished in the back seat (they were all a little on the large side so room was not forthcoming). The border crossings were drama-less and all was looking good. We started walking to the backpackers that we'd planned to stay at only to be told after our few km walk that they were full. So we gave in and the 4 of us shared a cab to another option. Turns out that Fatimas Backpackers, despite it's tarnished Trip Advisor reviews was actually very nice with a dog so wrinkly I thought he was a blanket.

We headed off for a view of the area after settling in and discovered that Mozambique has retained it's Portuguese roots where pastries and bread are concerned! They have this round roll that's almost like a ciabatta bread available at Pastelarias all over the place. We also found the local market full of hairdressers, men sewing everything, fruit and veg galore and of course - bars. Michelle, our resident Portuguese speaker, quickly made friends with the Mama of one place and we hooked into the local brews - 2m, Manica and Laurentina Preta. After negotiating a take-away deposit for the bottles that we promised to bring back we headed off in search of some food (which we found in the form of a rather small hamburger with cold chips) and promptly settled ourselves back at Fatimas getting sloshed. We even met a German family who were very interesting to talk to. It was a great first night in our final BigTrip country.

Unfortunately the sleep wasn't as good because their dorm door was very squeaky and so all movements woke me up. But hey ho, such is a travellers life.

The next morning we got some photocopies of our passports and had them notarised so that we complied with Mozambique law of always having a copy of your ID on you. We thought this was going to be a difficult process when we discovered the room choc-full of locals, but turned out that it was super quick, cheap and not at all formal as they didn't even want our passport originals when they notarised the copies. We must have looked trustworthy indeed.

Having then returned the empties, Sean went to get a haircut and beard shave. The place we found did the single most professional job on Sean's hair that we've had the entire trip. All for about £2. Michelle got a bag sewed up and we nipped in to pay our respects to the Mama of the bar we were at the night before.

Then we returned to Fatimas to make our way back to the first backpackers we'd tried the previous day as it was cheaper than Fatimas and price always wins!

After settling into their dorms and being nicely surprised by their cheap honesty fridge of beer, we set of on a city walk using a route from the Lonely Planet as a guide.

First up was the Fort. Not that big, not much in English, but a good place to people spot from its roof. We discovered some local food stalls and headed over there for a soda where we drank Passionfruit sodas, something we hadn't had since Malawi and sorely missed! We also noted that they did a very good smelling rice and chicken dish for 50 Mets which is incredibly cheap for Mozambique.

We then headed off to the Money Museum which surprised all of us by how much it had on display and how interesting it was. Not only did it contain centuries' worth of local currency, but also currency from around the world, including a $1 Aussie Dollar note (which Sean hadn't seen for years), a 50 trillion Zimbabwean note and many more. I also found it fascinating that in all the pictures of people making money back at the turn of the 20th century every single man had a moustache. Was it uniform I wondered? Along with the tie?

Next up was the train station which is cited as being in the world's top ten most beautiful train stations. It wasn't ugly, but it wasn't as amazing as this quote would have had me believe. In fact, we found the scary looking statue of a lady with eyes that would pierce iron (and, Sean noted, the incredible high-beam boobs!) more interesting.

Then we were hungry. But could we find any street food? Could we heck. We walked and walked and grew more and more hungry. In the end we just gave up, got on a chapa (minibus) and headed up the the fish market where the Lonely Planet has you believe you will find great deals that they'll cook up for you at nearby stalls. Well, you can buy fish. And they will cook it for you. But it's not a great deal. In fact, it's expensive. Especially when you consider that you need to buy rice/bread/herbs on top of the fish to make the meal into something. I fear that they have recognised the trade of tourists and so it has lost its appeal.

So we headed back to base (and our backpackers was actually called Base Backpackers) and made do with some pizza slices near to our accommodation. The food hunt had put a bit of a dampener on the day. But, Michelle and Martin had an ace card up their sleeve in the name of Carcassonne. Now this is a type of board game that requires strategy and cunning. And it's medieval themed. So Sean and I were instantly hooked and the world was once again at peace. We even met a chap named Alan that night that had stayed with Michelle and Martin in Swaziland.

The next day we continued our walk by heading to the main roundabout on which is a church. The church is a beautiful bit of architecture and looks great against the blue skied tropical setting. And using Michelle's powers of Portuguese speech we managed to get the doors opened up so we could climb the tower. This was a pretty scary experience in itself as we ascended the metal spiral staircase that wobbled with rust. The tower ledge was narrow with only one bar of handrail to save you from instant death, but the views of the city were worth it!

Having survived, we then headed off to the art gallery where we saw works by Malangatana Ngwenya, a most prominent Mozambican artist who died only this year. It was very interesting. There was some amazing sculpture work and also some very troubled death scenes. Also a rather odd installation of drums. Random.

Not as random as the art installation we then bumped into at a local theatre type place just opposite. Think many paper boats of different colours reminiscent of the arrows from Dad's Army surrounded by white with piles of cigarette butts.

We passed by the Iron House, designed by the Mr Eiffel of Eiffel Tower fame. Unfortunately he'd never been to Mozambique so didn't quite realise that iron wasn't a great building material in tropical climes.

We learned from yesterday's lessons and tucked into the best and cheapest chicken and rice in town for lunch back near the fort before trying to find a local jazz place to visit that evening. Unfortunately there wasn't much on that night so we got a bus back to near our accommodation, wandered around that area a bit more (its a bit posher down by the coast), and popped by a local art co-op whose gallery was under renovation so we only got to view the artists at work for a little while before heading back home for more Carcassonne with Alan.

And that drew our time in Maputo to a close. We're heading up the coast for our first beach experience in Tofo tomorrow where I'm expecting good weather, white sands and turquoise waters! Watch this space!

Here are the photos:

BT82_Maputo 20 -22 June 2011

* Some photos are courtesy of Martin - thank you!

(All Too) Swiftly Into Swaziland

I have been told that the average amount of time that any traveller spends in Swaziland is 1.8 days. Jen and I are bang on average, and having seen what this little country has to offer I can't say I'm proud of that statistic. It's a lovely little place.

And actually getting here was a sodding breeze - to be honest, while we go on incessantly about the regular difficulties of getting around most of Africa, getting around South Africa has been little short of effortless. In fact, by far the most difficult moments of the journey were over with early on - firstly, when we got out of bed at something like 5.30am and made our way to the bus stop and secondly, when after being told that the bus to Swaziland left from a different place to the one we'd showed up at, we were walked down one of Durban's noted "avoid at all cost" streets by one of the bus boys without a hint of menace or danger and that was that. Aside from having to change from the bus we'd settled into to a different one just before we left Durban (ok, so we were still in Africa after all) the rest of the trip was a dream. The bus was comfortable and fast, the roads were good and we made great time - and the most surprising part was that this stayed true after we crossed the border.

I'd expected crossing into Swaziland to be crossing into Lesotho - an immediate and obvious decline in the standards of road and infrastructure, and a country and population noticeably and significantly poorer. You know, like crossing from England into Wales (ok, so it wasn't THAT bad...). But the roads were excellent and the infrastructure good, and by lunchtime we'd made it to Legends Backpackers, our home for the next two nights, via the transport hub of Manzini.

Two things to note about Manzini:

1) As a town it seemed a whole lot nicer than its reputation suggests

2) Its bus stand may just be the busiest we've encountered in Africa

However, it was for the picturesque landscapes and interesting culture that we'd come - albeit briefly - and so we based ourselves in the Ezulwini valley, so we could look at things like this just outside our hostel.

We only had one real day of sightseeing, and the highlight of that day was undoubtedly the House on Fire - a legendary live music/entertainment venue and art gallery, and a place that Hendrix would have felt right at home. The only disappointment was that during our short time in the area it wasn't hosting an event - that would have been something to see.

It was a sensational place - hell, even the ladies' toilets were a highlight.

Note: I only went in with Jen, and when we were sure no one else was in there. Honest.

An afternoon at the craft market, and cooking ourselves a spectacular braai at our backpackers completed the day nicely, and now here we are ready to get up early again tomorrow morning and depart for Mozambique. The extra time we spent in Lesotho, combined with our desire to get the most out of our 30-day Mozambique visa means that we've underdone Swaziland by quite a bit. I don't think this is necessarily the kind of country where you need to settle in and spend weeks, mind.

But 1.8 days? I reckon it deserves better than that.

Here are the photos:

BT81_Swaziland 17 - 19 June 2011

Civilization (Slight Return)

Here's a surprise for you. Yet another crappy Lesotho minibus journey was up next!

We left the lodge in Mokhotlong at about 8.30am. We waited in one minibus until about 11am. Then, yep, we moved to another minibus and left to go down Sani pass just before lunchtime. We then moved at about 20km an hour down some incredibly stupid roads (I'm not sure they can actually be called roads) towards the border post at Sani. Sean and I were squashed into a back seat as normal (where leg room is much less than the middle) and I even had a broken seat that meant I had to sit bolt upright whilst the seat in front of me was also broken and sat at full recline crushing my knees. Those travellers who say they enjoy the local style of transport are just plain mad. It's not fun. But it is cheap. That's the only reason any sane person uses it.

The final views of Lesotho didn't disappoint as we made our way through the high snow covered peaks, topping 2865m at Sani pass itself.

As we left Lesotho I'll never forget the crazy woman who was screaming that we wouldn't wait for Sean who had just popped into a loo full of goats. I told her flatly that we would!

We then made our way down the hairpin 180 degree bends - and 30 degree gradients!! - of the Sani pass. Wow. This is one crazy road! We even passed a crazy man trying to go up in a normal sedan - pretty sure he didn't make it to the top.

It was also very lucky that at the South African border at the other end I checked my passport when it was handed back to me. No one believed we didn't have our own 4wd (being white this seems to be obligatory and here we were without one!) and in all that confusion, they forgot to stamp my passport. Now that would have been interesting explaining when trying to exit the country! However, I do have to admit that I would have enjoyed the Sani pass drive a bit more had we been in our own car (or if our previous day had worked out and we'd made it here that night). Our own car would have allowed us to stop and take it in rather than rush off quickly. But regardless, it was stunning (although my knees have a different opinion about it).

When we arrived at Underberg everyone rushed out into the next minibus and that meant Sean and I had to wait for another. I wasn't too upset to leave crazy bossy woman behind as she was beginning to piss me off especially as she pushed me out of the way to get off the bus. Turns out that this was a great thing to happen. The next minibus was empty. Just me and Sean. All the way baby! Yee-ha! The driver even took us right to the door of our hostel. Now that is service - welcome back to South Africa!

It's a shame we didn't stay in Pietermaritzberg more than the one night. Andre, the manager of the hostel we stayed in was very welcoming. And his two dogs were beautiful, just like the colonial style building. But we had to get to Swaziland quickly as for some reason I was only given a 30 day visa for South Africa and they don't restart this after a visit to Lesotho.

So the next day we got an early minibus to Durban. Unfortunately by the time we arrived we'd missed the mid-morning minibuses into Swaziland, so we decided to enjoy the day in Durban and head off early tomorrow.

They say Durban is known for having the friendliest people in South Africa. I think that's true. The taxi drive who drove us to our hostel from the station was lovely. He almost gave us an impromptu tour! And the hostel we stayed at was amazing and run by a really lovely lady.

We've spent the day walking up and down the beach discussing our adventures in Lesotho and what Swaziland might hold for us whilst eating chocolate cake at local cafes in the sunshine.

It was also here in Durban that we've decided we were tired of the long, cramped journeys and after everything we'd been through in Lesotho we agreed that the only way we'd enjoy our last month in Mozambique was if we only travelled its length once - so we booked a flight back to Johannesburg from the north of Mozambique. Well sometimes you just have to treat yourselves!

It's a shame we won't be in Durban for another day - but can't help the visa situation! And poor old Swaziland has already had a couple of days shaved off it by the fact that we couldn't get around Lesotho quick enough!

From The Sublime To The Ridiculous

If I could offer one piece of advice to anyone thinking of going to Lesotho, it would be this: if you are on a limited time frame, and don't have your own transport (preferably a 4WD) - don't go. I've been lucky enough to visit quite a decent number of countries over the course of my life and I can't recall an experience of ever taking so long a time to travel so small a distance as Jen and I have encountered over the past couple of days. To be fair, we've only spent about 50% of our time on a bus. The other 50% has been spent waiting for one.

Reluctantly leaving Malealea, our aim was to make our way the following day to Thaba-Tseka, about 120km away by road. We figured that, even allowing for what we'd heard were the difficult travel conditions through central Lesotho, this would be plenty of time. We figured poorly. The thing about travelling by public transport in Lesotho is that not many people seem to do it, and when they do they go from one village to the next, where the transport terminates. So unless you're on pretty much the single main highway in the country then you just have to keep picking up short-haul minibuses and the like to get you to your destination in stages.

And this particular journey, short as it was, took four stages - the first, to Motsekuoa, was waylaid by another of the police stops like we encountered outside of Quthing and a lengthy wait for papers to be found and delivered, and of course for money to change hands. The second, from Motsekuoa to Mazenod was surprisingly smooth and quick - the worst thing that could have happened, as it turned out, because it raised our confidence in the remainder of the journey to a level which didn't come close to being justified. Stage three took us from Mazenod - eventually, via yet another police stop and interminable delay - to Nazareth, where my attempts to fit in and be Jesus didn't get us anywhere. In fact, the wait at Nazareth could almost be a stage unto itself, such was the situation as we sat by the side of the road half way up a hill leading out of a middle-of-nowhere town waiting for a bus that may or may not have ever come. Eventually, just as we decided that "may not" was probably going to win that one, we got lucky in the form of a group of guys in a ute who let us (and the few locals who were also milling around waiting for Godot) jump in the back of their pick-up for the drive to Thaba-Tseka. We realised three things over the course of this open air journey through central Lesotho's mountain passes:

1) That the scenery was wonderful.

2) How little ground we'd made so far that day, as this bloke drove bloody fast and it still took us forever to reach our destination.

3) That fast, winding roads are exactly what my lingering hangover didn't need, as I managed to throw up out the back of the truck. Twice.

But by God we made it to Thaba-Tseka, a mere ten hours or so after leaving Malealea. Once again, those ironic deities who play with mortal man for sport had their fun with us, because we found ourselves a fantastic little hotel for the night with a great all-you-can-eat buffet (including dessert - result) which pleased and encouraged us to the point where we were convinced that our journey to Sani Pass the next day would be quicker and easier. After all, Sani Pass was only another 70-odd clicks away.

We never got anywhere near Sani Pass.

It wasn't for want of trying, mind. Energised by our excellent night, Jen and I got up early and made our way to the bus stand on the other side of Thaba-Tseka. Where we proceeded to wait just over three hours for a bus to arrive. Fair enough, the long wait was normal but we'd managed to be there early enough to get the front seats - always a win when you have legs as long as ours. Settling in for another hour or so to wait, we were then told that a man with a truck was leaving right this minute, going exactly where we wanted to go (Sani Pass) and that we could go with him. So we left the front-seat comfort of our minibus to find that the man leaving now was one I'd already spoken to that morning, didn't have room for us and wasn't going to Sani. So they only gotten everything wrong, made worse by the fact that when we returned to our minibus we'd lost our sodding front seats.

It was ok though, because we were leaving immediately, and with such a short distance to travel the worst must have been over. Surely.

At 5pm - nine hours after arriving at the Thaba-Tseka bus stand, we arrived in Linakeneng. We had travelled 40km. And there they left us.

So there we were, a real middle-of-nowhere village high up in the mountains of Lesotho, with the sun going down, the cold setting in, and no onward transport to anywhere we actually wanted to be. It sounds really cool now, and if you'd put a camera on us it would have made a great cut-to-an-ad cliffhanger in an adventure travel documentary. But when you're actually living it the way Jen and I were there, then our only thought was pretty much "what the frack do we do now?"

Thankfully we'd befriended a local lad named Joseph on the journey who spoke some English, and he set about speaking to a local lady named Agnys, who worked for the district council, about getting us a bed for the night - a bed which actually turned out to be the sofa in her house. And by "house" I mean "room" because that's all it was - one room with a bed, a table, a gas lamp and a sofa. Oh, and some rabid dogs outside that she told us not to go anywhere near. Which was nice of her.

Settling in for the night, struck by her kindness and the fact that she didn't want any money from us, Jen and I offered to buy Agnys dinner at the local food-making-and-selling-place (to call it a "restaurant" is a stretch that not even I am going to make). And there, on our way into the village, we see it - a man, in a minibus, with the engine on. Approaching him and waiting for the expected response to the effect that he was travelling in the other direction, or not travelling at all, what we actually got was the best news we'd heard in a long time - that he was heading in our direction, that he would just take us and our new friend Joseph with him. I almost kissed him, but didn't want to lose the offer.

So he took us to Mokhotlong, which is where I'm writing this, and ironically after such excruciatingly slow travel up until that point he got us here across icy, snowy mountain roads with absolutely maniacal speed. It's not Sani, but it's a little closer, our guesthouse is warm and cosy, and we've just tucked into a fantastic home made chicken and rice dish.

We'll get to Sani Pass tomorrow. Probably.

Things Jennie will remember:

1) That Agyns' real name is Maeseta

2) That Joseph's real name is Mokhethi and we are ever thankful that he spoke English

3) That Mokhethi knew Seala (he'd gone to school with him) and Seala was the reason we sorted out the rooms for the night.

4) Watching all the piles of straw go past on the back of the pick-up

5) The face masks everyone wears to keep warm, as well as their blankets:

6) The children who still wanted their photo taken even in the middle of nowhere:

7) The driver's name who appeared from nowhere to take us to Mokhotlong was Khotso which means "peace". He's actually my angel.

8) All the Sesotho that I learned (spelling here is my own phonetic!) - very useful when you're stuck in the middle of nowhere!

Kallybooa - Thank You

Dumela - Hello

O Pel E A Jou-A = How are you? "Ho Joang?"

Response = "Ho Shaapi"

What's your name? "U Mang?"

Where do you come from? "U Tsea Koae?" (U Cha Ko-Ay)

Are you Happy?

Yes I am Happy: "U thabele" (O Ta Be Lay)