The Holidays - Part 2

‘How do you say Happy New Year in Portuguese?’ We asked.

The reply came from a middle-aged Mozambican man with a friendly face and sounded something like ‘bon ano novo, dos mille dos’.

We were standing in an alleyway of the Ponta marketplace at 9:00pm on December 31^st and all the lights were out. A power outage hadn’t stopped all these good business people though, and only a few candles provided light for the stalls. The reason we found ourselves in the middle of a dark market on New Years Eve with stone-aged lighting was simple: we needed airtime. Wanting to contact important people on the first day of the new year is sad but familiar to both of us, and since we had the urge to at least tell someone out there ‘Hey, it’s me, I’m safe and wanted to say hello!’ we treated this small adventure like a tropical crusade.

Once this mission was complete Carolyn and I walked back to the party, repeating our new Portuguese phrase to almost every stranger along the way. I’ve already mentioned my less-than-eventful countdown, which I got over after sitting on the beach watching the first orange sunrise of 2012. After a short sleep in our boiling tent, we spent the rest of the morning enjoying a relaxing breakfast and smoothie at Mango café, a recently opened gem of a place that used to be a backpackers. Along with blackened chicken wraps and pistachio smoothies they also had two Canadian girl-sized couches and a tv that played re-runs of the OC. How could we complain?

Reminder that the war has only been over since 1992

New Ponta house

Snake?

The rest of the day consisted of beach time and a brief run-in with a magician who was bending forks and spoons with his mind. Luckily we weren’t eating at the time. For our first evening meal of 2012 (and our last in Ponta) we gathered as a group of 5 and had dinner at Lulu’s for some local food. Two girls from Lisbon had joined us at Devocean a few days before and had already saved us several times with their Portuguese. Our South African surfing instructor also came along, and we all shared a meal of fish, rice and garlic bread. Carolyn and I had been to Lulu’s once before, and after realizing that it was the best place in town we wanted it to be the site of our last supper. In order to understand how things work at Lulu’s, it is necessary for me to explain the process we went through just to place an order.

Lisbon Girl: What kind of fish do you have?

Waiter: (tells us the local name, which I can’t remember) I can bring it out and show you?

LG: Sure.

A few seconds later, he comes back with a large, frozen, grunt-like fish on a platter and asks if this is ok. It doesn’t seem to be gutted either.

LG: Ok well this looks like enough for us all to share. We will take it grilled with a large bowl of seasoned rice and some bread.

Waiter: We don’t have any rice.

LG: Well we are in a marketplace, why can’t you just go and buy some?

Waiter: I’ll see what I can do…(runs out of the restaurant and returns a little while later with a bag of rice)

Outside Lulu's

Inside Lulu's

Although we waited for almost two hours after placing our order (I think they were waiting for the fish to thaw), it was well worth the wait once the food arrived, and in the meantime we were regaled with surfing stories. These alone could inspire a blog post but I’ve got far too much to tell you and we haven’t even gotten to Maputo yet.

The next day we ended the Ponta leg of our trip and decided to walk on the almost wild side by taking a chapa, Mozambique’s answer to DRL bus lines.

The chapa stop

Waiting for a chapa bus is hard to describe, based solely on the fact that there are no schedules, nobody knows where the bus will stop on the road, and there is a first-come-first-serve policy that means you may have a seat but your luggage may not. Unlike South African public taxis, chapas are old minibuses that often have 20 or more people inside, and several bags tied to their roofs. They maneuver over the bumpy sand roads between Ponta and the rest of the world like tanks and a three hour ride costs about eleven Canadian dollars.

On the day we left Ponta, we had found out through word of mouth that there would be a chapa arriving at 13h00 somewhere in the marketplace and that we needed to be there relatively early to catch it. Four hours later we left for Maputo in a late-90’s land rover with a local who sometimes drives tourists to the city at a slightly higher price than the chapa would charge. After waiting in the hot sun and asking everyone in sight if they were going to Maputo and had room for 4 girls plus luggage, we thought that we may not leave until dark. A lucky encounter at Fernando’s, however, meant that we got to travel in style and luxury while bad rap music blared from the single working speaker.

At Fernando's people nail their un-wanted cards to the walls

...and sometimes their un-wanted photos

When we arrived at The Base backpackers we were in desperate need of a shower and good food. We spent the night under a mosquito net and woke early the next day. To be in such a large and busy city after 12 days in a place on the beach with no roads made me feel a little bit like a country mouse (as if I don’t already), and since we only had until the following morning to see everything we had to be pretty strategic.

Our day started at the train station where the friendliest cab driver on earth told us a little bit of history and helped us with directions to the vegetable and fish markets. Even though he used specific details and pointed out landmarks as we drove by, it still didn’t keep us from getting lost, which sounds worse than it was. Maputo for Jill and Carolyn proved to be full of the most helpful and welcoming people, and didn’t feel as scary as some places in South Africa. Walking down the main streets didn’t fill me with dread, and even though we spoke very little Portuguese (me none, Carolyn um pouco) everyone we asked for directions tried their best to help us. We even found a guide at an art gallery who was nice enough to walk us to the nearby craft market. We missed the currency museum and the Natural History Museum (fetal elephants in jars!) but rode in a tuk-tuk and had the most delicious meal at Costa do Sol on the waterfront.

Train Station

Maputo shoe store

Tuc-tuc

Just in case we forgot that we were in Africa

Caged brids at the market :(

The next day we faced a two hour wait at the border crossing (I think they were all on a lunch break when we got there) and a 6 hour bus ride to Johannesburg, where we began the ‘Princesses living in luxury’ phase of our trip. After living in a tent or a backpackers with brown water and HUGE spiders for two weeks it would have been a relief to go anywhere with indoor toilets, but the family friends we stayed with in Bryanston (a suburb of Jo’Burg) went above and beyond to make us feel at home and helped us end our holiday on the perfect note. The food alone was enough to make us want to stay longer than a few days, and I am now convinced that no matter where in the world they live, Newfoundland women are capable of putting together the best meals you’ve ever had, from traditional turkey dinner to bootie.

As part of our Johannesburg tour we visited the sobering but extremely interesting Apartheid Museum, the Rhino and Lion Nature Reserve, which recently made international news, and Bush babies Monkey Sanctuary. We also did a little shopping and went to the Bryanston Organic Market. Although it sounds busy it was actually very relaxing and yes, there were a few nights of wine mixed in. 

Having a chat about the weather

Bridge that features in all my nightmares

Momma squirrel monkey and baby

Ring-tailed lemur

Capuchin tongue

Wild Dog

Lazy cheetahs

Thanks again to Marilyn and Kim for having us, and for making us feel so welcome. We had a wonderful stay with you and hope that we don’t let so much time go by before the next visit, whether it’s here, NL or NS. 

I’d like to say we ended our trip with another eventful bus ride where an Indian lady felt the need to donate clothing to me (again), but we actually ended up finding a cheap Kulula flight back to Port Elizabeth. While waiting for a shuttle that would bring us back to Grahamstown Carolyn asked some student-looking types where they were heading and if they needed company (her logic was, they’re not wearing shoes and are driving a VW Citi so they must be Rhodes students). Although we had to squeeze in the tiny back seat with a suitcase between us it was considerably cheaper and got us back home much earlier than if we had waited for the shuttle. It has also added to the debt I owe Carolyn, but hopefully I can bake her a Valentine’s cake and we’ll be even.

Lots of love and thanks for reading,

Jill