There's nothing more amazing in life than the freedom to be someone else every day. And there is no better way to achieve it than by travelling.
When you travel - do it alone. Leave your ordinary world behind and see what else the universe has to offer you. You will be surprised.
My Maputo trip was planned as a journey of another life. My luggage consisted of a backpack with a towel (hitchhiker’s guide to the galaxy got it right - it is the most important travelling accessory!), scarf (some fashion magazine got this part right), spare t-shirt, socks, underwear, 2 water bottles (the most difficult thing to get when you need it!). I had R400 in my pockets, no car, and by pure coincidence - no watch or other means to track time (I forgot my watch at home).
Cellphone – I had it with me, but I had to switch it off. Its battery runs flat sometimes in just one hour. And I needed it on my way back to call Uber. So the moment I got to the bus station, I switched it off and, for the extra confidence, took the battery out and put it in another pocket. From that point on I had to track time by the sun, and with the help of those around me.
Uber ride was blissfully fast. I was too early to the station. Another hour of wandering around, chatting to the coffee-shop attendant, meeting an unfriendly girl who was also going to Maputo and was asking me if the bus has arrived already. It wasn’t at that time, but soon enough it did.
It was empty, and I was in a happy delusion hoping to take the two seats joined together to sleep. Unfortunately, the sleep wasn't long. The moment we got to Park Station, the bus was full, and I've got a seat neighbour, who luckily was very skinny. I regretfully thought that I should have taken a seat next to a woman for more comfort, but it was too late. Luckily I slept very well.
The morning started with the bus stopped. I looked out of the window and saw stationary cars next to us. The well-known queue at the border! Sigh. I got off my seat and went to the other side of the bus where the window was bigger. Gosh, the view! It was one of the most beautiful landscapes I ever saw. In the glen below there was a river, with boulders and trees on the sides. Warm green vegetation and deliciously lime-coloured pastures were closer to the horizon. I decided to stand there and just absorb the beauty for as long as it takes. I did not have any idea of the time, and there was nothing to do about the queue either, so I just absorbed what was good. The passengers swiftly switched to Portuguese - strangely enough, since at Park Station everyone was speaking Zulu. I lazily thought that I am the only white person on this bus - I often find myself in situations like that. I listened to Portuguese, trying to adjust my ear.
The time passed - it always does somehow. The border was very confusing - the driver told us to join the queue at the immigration, and then walk straight, and he will see us at the other side. The kind of instruction that drives me insane. Which "other side"? Where? I hoped for some signs - but there was none.
Crowds of people were all busy walking, selling something, offering cell contracts, meticals, food, drinks, and anything you can ever think of. Used to South African danger and the endless begging typical to the other African countries - I stayed away from all the vendors and just walked. The girl that I met at the Midrand station was there again, but somehow by that time she forgot how to speak English, so she could not help. Eventually, I started to ask the officially looking men in uniform, and they directed me forward and forward, and finally I saw our bus. Got in, some more time waiting. Goats and chicken were wandering around. I remembered some children’s story about a little goat who was wandering from one owner to another as I was watching a little goat from the village crossing the motorway and boldly walking further and further to the South African side. The goat looked very determined and totally unbothered by the border control.
Finally the ride to Maputo! Now it became interesting. I was happy about my window seat. The fields on the side of the road were scattered with half-built houses, occasional people working on the fields, tuck shops. All seemingly unrelated and in the middle of nowhere. Long brick wall starting at one point and lasting for about 500m - what was its function? Separate the road from what? The sea was visible in the distance.
Finally, I've remembered my intention to meet some locals and decided to chat to my neighbour. He told me that he is from Maputo, but lived in SA since 1998. He is going back when the kids are finishing school. We've exchanged numbers, and he promised to help me to buy some land around Maputo if I decide to relocate. His brother is married to a German lady. This fact was supposed to be a uniting common ground, as I was thought to be a German too. He was surprised that I don't speak German (I guess I should since so many people believe I am German).
And we arrived. Long circle around Maputo. What a beautiful city - everything is there: the sea, a port, a train station, tall buildings: new and old, neat colonial houses, trees, beaches. My plan was to take it easy and just walk around and see what is there. First I stumbled upon a geological museum, which I walked in but could not visit since it required a cash payment. Another attempt - a bookstore – tried to buy a children’s book in Portuguese - those are wonderful to learn a language - again no luck with any of my standard bank cards. Ok, let's try an ATM – now: “this type of card is not accepted”. SA banks make unique payment cards - never had problems with any other cards.
Luckily I found a shopping centre and – yay! – Finally, a clean toilet, water, soap. Now I could change: the pleasure of a clean t-shirt is one of the life gifts that we forget. Feeling suddenly energised I was ready to explore the city. The same shopping centre had a currency exchange, which got me some Meticals for my Rands, a new bottle of water and the information about the time in one of the watch shops. 1:30 pm -good enough to explore the beach and walk around a bit more in the evening. Following the instructions from my bus neighbour, I made my way to the beach promenade and thoroughly enjoyed it. Relaxed pedestrians of all ages, occasional bike or a car. And no vendors! Gosh, what a pleasure! How much I dread the experience of constant attention from these tourist predators! Nothing worse than being seen as a walking ATM by multiple locals who endlessly offer you unnecessary services. And here - such a breath! No one bothered me. Even those who were selling peanuts and cell contracts were very polite. I went all the way to the beach and realised that this is the ultimate destination. If my life ended there - I would wish for no more. The ultimate purpose of life is to lie under a palm tree listening to the sound of waves.
Of course, I did get back, but this is a totally another story.
