Southern Mozambique

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We started in Maputo with an altercation.

Our pre-arranged pick-up was not there to meet us and I had no Mozambican money to make a call. When I explained the situation a taxi driver offered me the use of his mobile phone. Having made the call (about 30 seconds) I decided to repay his friendly gesture by giving him my remaining SA money - only about 60p. Suddenly this was not good enough and he insisted on getting a pounds worth - which he already knew I didn’t have. He got quite agitated and when our lift came we left with him shouting through the windows at us but still refusing the 60p.

We were pleased to find that Maputo Backpackers is a large whitewashed building in a quiet area outside the city centre.

Just down the road is a famous seafood restaurant where we had crab, prawns, barracuda on consecutive days for about £5 a dish.

The city centre turned out to be typically developing world with collapsed pavements, skyscrapers, lots of street life and the occasional assault of pungent BO. Quite fun but we were glad that our lodgings were more sedate. We came across a market stall selling 200 cigarettes for £1.20, a new record on our travels so far and, I imagine, unlikely to be bettered.


We took an early morning bus for a cramped 8-hour trip to Inhambane.

Again our arranged pick up was not in evidence and we then had to negotiate with the minibus drivers to take us to the seaside village of Tofu.

At Bamboozi backpackers we were shown to a small concrete plinth surrounded by a piece of wicker and containing a mangy mattress on the floor. This was optimistically described as a hut and they wanted 15 quid a night for it. "I am NOT staying here" said Linda, awash with emotional intransigence.

I was inclined to agree so we settled on a dorm, which was marginally better. At least there were beds in it.

The problem was that, apart from the accommodation, Tofu was actually pretty good. The beach was lovely, the food was good and we met some really nice people. We enjoyed the days but dreaded the nights.

On the fourth night Linda thought she heard some squeaking and on the fifth morning we found that the floor was littered with rat droppings. Time to leave.


We moved on to the next beach resort, Barra, and we were amazed at the contrast with Tofu.

For the same price as that scabby dorm we got a large en-suite chalet looking out over the sea.

The long beach was lined with coconut palms, the weather remained superb and there was hardly anybody else there. We had 5 tranquil days in which we spoke to few people apart from the waiters at the two beachfront restaurants.

We then spent a couple of nights in Inhambane, primarily for the opportunity to use the ATM. Even so it was a pleasant stop. A historic town built in the style of the Portuguese colonists but now in a state of graceful decay.



Further along the coast, at Vilanculo, we discovered perfection.

At certain times of day the shallow sea was as still and serene as an alpine lake.

The millponded ocean consisted of barely credible shades of iridescent blue.

If I stood knee deep and motionless in the water for a few minutes, shells started to move as hermit crabs resumed their foraging.

Local fishermen were always in evidence, plying their dhows between the sandbanks to bring their catches to shore.

Each day we just walked along the beach and felt uplifted by the beauty laid out for us. The days slipped away and we probably could have continued like that indefinitely but for the diminishing time on our visas.

The spell was definitely broken when we interfaced with public transport to go overland to Malawi.

I had planned to spread the journey over four days but Linda just wanted to get it over with, so we did it in two.

Mozambican public transport really is the worst I've come across.

All the buses leave between 4 and 6am so we had to be up for 3.30am anyway. The roads are riddled with potholes so the drivers are always swerving to avoid them or crashing through them.

On this particular journey we shared a 29-seater bus with about 40 people and their luggage including 4 or 5 50kg sacks of maize, numerous chickens, a duck and a dead, hairy piglet. Fortunately no goats on this occasion. Each person was crammed into a hips-width of space for up to 6 hours at a time.

Amongst the vendors who surround the bus each time it pulls up we encountered the fabled roasted rat, splayed out and held up to the window for our inspection. They were whoppers too - a good 12 inches excluding tail.


On the second day we thankfully arrived in Blantyre in Malawi at 7.30pm having stopped only between buses and at borders. We had earned our early night.

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