The conductor of my Maputo-bound minibus resembles Laurence Fishburne after a career change, and the sound system boasts an impressive array of Billy Ocean, Spagna, and even RAF, but I pay a high cost for these diversions via another hot, lengthy, cramped journey. There's no respite to the disappointment when we arrive in Maputo, with the city host to a series of overpriced hotels with limited availability. I find a room in a place recommended by S but can only take it for one night, and when I later stumble across a pensao with free Internet and availability for three subsequent nights I book a room sight unseen. I take merciless advantage of the fast web access to go on a photo uploading spree. Maputo has a tediously bad reputation for crime, and a warning notice
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