The Windy City

After our adventures fighting off the greatest predators of the animal kingdom (and for some the greatest predators are the insects), we moved on to our the destination: Cape Town. The 2.5 hour flight from Maputo went smoothly and we arrived safely in the second city of RSA. The city where the legend of the Flying Dutchman was born!

According to folklore, the Flying Dutchman is a ghost ship that can never go home, and is doomed to sail the oceans - mainly around Cape Hope - forever. Most of you will now know it from the Pirates of the Caribbean flicks, in which the ship is portrayed as having a crew of doomed humans slowly being transformed into sea life. Much like regular life, where most of us slowly transform into vegetable life as we get older... (read the following in a loud hollow voice) We are all doomed!

Actually, earlier this year I saw an investigative documentary on the legend of the Flying Dutchman which concluded that the original very first version of the legend was based on a vessel nicknamed the Flying Vlemish, but that since the Dutch ruled the sea in those times, the story to Dutchman to beef up the story. Wouldn't that be a disappointment for KLM who carries the FD as a badge... (which I never understood, as it refers to a doomed ship)

First impressions of Cape Town were a bit surreal. After spending months in sub-sahara Africa where people live along the dirt roads in 'houses' made of roof plates, you all of a sudden enter a town which basically looks like a cross between Miami Beach and Sydney. Nice streets, houses, hotels, malls, sea-side restaurants, luxury boats, a waterfront boardwalk and cable-carts.

Anybody that just visited Cape Town should never ever claim to have seen Africa. It's like going to Disney World and telling everybody that you've seen the United States... (even though
George W does look a bit like Goofy).

There are many things you can do in Cape Town. Partying is one of the 'activities'. The main party street is Long Street. for those of you who have been to Sydney, just think of Oxford Street and you'll get the picture. A long street (very original name!) with restaurants, bars, mini-clubs, surf-shops, bijoux stores, etc. This is where it all happens. Locals, backpackers and tourists fill the street starting at 20:00 hrs for food, drinks, music and uncontrolled movements locally referred to as dancing.

Over the course of the 4 nights we spent there we've seen the inside of every bar and club, ranging from teenie Breezer bars to the local intellectual bohemian loft, from hardcore rap hole to the more-or-less trendy deephouse basement and from the traditional beer smelling Irish bar (where one guy plays the entire discography of U2 by himself) to the exotic lounge café. Is Cape Town therefore a great party place? Hmm, honestly not in my opinion. If you're a student backpaper you'll have tons of fun, but for others it's a bit undefined.

Of course there were also day activities. Most of these required us to wake up early. Yep, visit Paradise and get going! The area around Cape Town is known for its vineyards and there are many wine tasting tours available. Since we do enjoy our occasional drop of alcohol - but only a little bit of course - we signed up for one. The entire afternoon was spent driving around the country side and stopping at very nice vineyards for some SSSS. That is Swirl, Sniff, Sip and Swallow... Or was it Spit? Ehh... Nah! It must be swallow! Why waste a perfectly good glass of wine?

The nicest trip was the tour to Cape Point. The whole ride to it was cool, passing by beautiful areas with beaches, hills and of course nice houses, including those from Madonna and Oprah. Girl power! We also took the option of doing a boat trip to a rock outside the bay where the seals relax and sunbathe. Literally hundreds of seals.

We also saw...yes! yes! yes!.. a mother whale with her young one. They were drifting along the coast line just some 50 meters out. Amazingly closeby! Whale season was actually over, but we were told that mothers hang around until their kid is strong enough to swim out with her.

Before reaching the point we made a quick stop at an ostrich farm. It was run by a family. A very strange family. A very very very strange family. Some serious inbreeding was going on there and we're not referring to the animals... On that farm the ostrich were obviously the intelligent species.

The cape itself was pretty. A nice rock sticking out the ocean. We took the mandatory 'lookie me at southern most point' pictures and headed back to the city. On the way back there was a quick tour of the botanical gardens before we were dropped off at the Waterfront. There we enjoyed a a few cold ones while the Bokke were taking Wales apart on the telly.

Regretfully, many of the things we wanted to do, we couldn't because of the weather. The temperatures were great, the sun was shining, but there was a lot of wind too. That means no cable cart to table mountain, no ferry to Robben island (former 'home' of Nelson Mandela) and no boats leaving from Gansbaai to go cage diving with Jaws, a.k.a. the great white shark.

I guess I'll just have to go back and the first week of February seems like the best opportunity. Finish off my assignment with some shark nose tapping! Establish dominance!

The trip was concluded with two days of Johannesburg. In short: don't go there! It's number 2 murder capital of the world (ahead of Bagdad!), number 1 in assaults, number 3 in car jackings and number 2 in kidnappings. Only Colombia has them beat on the last category.

Everything there happens inside. People go to malls or stay home. Home is where the heart is... and the alarm, the sensors, the guards, the dogs and the electrical fence! But apparently, even the mall is not safe! Some store attendant there hit the floor a millisecond after a few meters away some kid's balloon popped. We were still registering the sound and this guy was already drafting his testament from underneath the counter!

The only reason to visit Joburg would be the Apartheid museum. Tough luck! It wasn't open during my stay, but James and Sharif got to go as their flights were later that day. They confirmed that it does make a lasting impression on you. So, I guess I'll have to add Joburg to my February itinerary as well.

It's now 5 days to my departure back to Froglandia, followed by two weeks of blue Curaçao: the island, not the drink! I guess I can sneak in one more blog entry before the end of year, but in case I don't: Happy Days and a Great 2008!

Freddy Kruger Park

It has been a while and for good reason since I just spent 2 weeks on holidays. It all started on 14 Nov when James arrived here at Maputo. Obviously that was a big moment for him as it was his first trip to da mothalan. It goes without saying that this historic fact was celebrated with alcoholic drinks for the entire two weeks.

The next day his buddy Sharif arrived from New York. Did I mention that he was from New York? How do I describe this guy? Hmmm, imagine taking a big pot and put in there a table spoon of Eddie Murphy, a bucket of Flavor Flav, some Schwarzenegger (just a little bit though. Don't want to inflate the ego), a little diddy or puff of Sean John, a Joey "How you doin'?" Tribbiani pack, a pinch of Dennis Rodman and a good handful of Ali G. Turn on the heat and mix it all up with some of your favourite dance moves from Justin Timberlake and MC Hammer and you have.... Sharif! And, what you didn't know... he's from New York!

The first days were spent in Maputo. Some sightseeing, swimming, shrimp eating, partying and yes, drinking. The highlight of those days? Some dude trying to pick a fight with Sharif over something. We actually still do not know what. Maybe he didn't even know! He might have actually be mentally challenged as his way of 'announcing' the fight was to smash his own glass against his forehead! Yes, you read this correctly. He smashed his own drink against his own head! Never mind the risks of seriously injuring oneself, but just consider the waste of perfectly good alcohol!!!

Next stop? Kruger Park! A park more than half the size of Holland and about 45 times larger than Curaçao. We entered through one of the South gates and immediately saw a whole bunch of crocodiles. They didn't look that menacing though, especially not later that night on my plate. Tastes like chicken, of course!

Half a mile further down the road we saw impala's! Wow! We were extremely impressed with our luck! We just arrived and already saw deer! The three of us had never seen an impala before so we were manoeuvring carefully to take the best shot. Little did we know that these animals are only outnumbered by mosquitoes in the park. Two hours later we were like: Hey ! Impala! Yeah, whatever... (By the way, they don't taste like chicken.)

Over the next 2.5 days we drove and drove and drove around the park. Well... ehhh... technically, I drove and James and Sharif slept but only half of the drive. Safari is quite fun. You drive around slowly and in the meanwhile you stare and stare. You look left, right, up and down in search of a moving object or a silhouette that looks like an animal. Half of the time it's a tree trunk.

Sometimes you drive a full hour without seeing anything (apart from these d*mned impala's) and then all of a sudden I hit the brakes, the boyzzz jolt out of their nap, and we all stare and stare at something in the distance. The reward is great when you spot an animal you haven't seen before in its natural habitat.

And we saw many! We saw Giraffe, Kudu, Warthog, Buffalo, Steenbok, Hippo, Baboon, Waterbuck, Elephant (+babies), Hyena, Springbok (the national symbol of South Africa), an Eagle (!), Bats, Nyala, Rhino, Wildebeest, Zebra, Bushbuck, Grey Duiker, Eland, Ostrich, Vervet Monkey and of course... the King of the Jungle... (no, not Sharif).... the Lion! Now also know by us as 'ohhhhhhh Leoooooooooooooooone'.

The two scariest encounters were with the Lion and with a specific male Elephant who looked seriously pissed off, as if someone took away his TV remote in the middle of a Baywatch reunion special.

The lion encounter was not necessarily scary, but quite tense. We signed up for a night drive and as we were driving along in pitch dark, we came up to a lion who had just eaten and was sleeping on the road. We carefully drove up to him and everyone was taking pictures. Obviously this woke him up. First a big yawn to make sure we were all aware of the fact that our entire head would easily fit in between his yaws. Then he got up and slowly paced along side the vehicle, as if he was sizing it up. In the meanwhile he kept giving us the evil eye! He looked mean and threatening. I swear, if he had a glass of gin-tonic, he would smash it against his forehead!

When a adult male lion looks at you like that from up close, it's scary. You get visions of ending up like Siegfried and Roy! And that was already bad, even before their incident.

The elephant was really scary. It started quite peacefully. I was driving along, the guys were taking their nap and all of a sudden I saw a herd of elephants drinking and bathing in the little river. We stopped and so did a few others behind us. It was a nice sight. All of a sudden a noise! One large male elephant started trumpeting loudly, shaking his head and flapping his ears. Obviously he was pissed off. He started 'jogging' in our direction, increasing his speed as he came closer. He ran up the hill, stopped some 100 meters away from us and checked out the vehicles. There were 2 large safari trucks, one big ass 4x4 and there we were.. 3 tasty, juicy, healthy, fresh, vitamin rich, clean scrubbed boys crammed in a vehicle, affectionately known in Banco Terra as a 'baby Tata'...

Our little Nightmare on Elm Street was about to start! This big fella' quickly came to the conclusion that the small package was definitely the one he could handle and ran straight at us. Obviously the first instinct is to run and run fast. This was also the advise screamed out loud by one of my passengers. The other one shouted in panic "Establish Dominance!". However, we also didn't want to miss the spectacle as we were all holding our camera's to try and get the best action shot.

Problem with Dumbo was that he didn't run in a straight line. The trees might have had something to do with that. So I'm with my left foot pushing down the clutch, the right foot on the verge to putting the pedal to the metal and my left hand (yes, left hand) holding the stick wondering whether I should put it in first gear or in reverse. All depending on the route taken by our 'friend'.

Finally when he was close enough I decided to go forward, but just some 20 meters, since we didn't want to run from the action. Our Bergkamp-like quick change of direction was too much for Mr. Grey as he skidded past us like an Argentinian defender and ended up on the other side of the road. That was a close call! Our hearts were beating, the adrenaline was pumping and I think my guests have only been more scared when seeing mosquitos... Yep, they were roughing it!

PS: Kudu, Ostrich and Springbok also do not taste like chicken.

Next post: Cape Town, which in our books took over the title of the Windy City.

Nelspruit

Part 2 of my (il)legal border crossing. Probably by the time I finish this story, I need to do another one of these. Maybe I'll go check out Swaziland. I hear that's a great place. Just last month the king had 30.000 (!) single women dance in front of him, as he was ready to get married and needed just the right woman for this purpose. Actually it was his 13th wedding. No, not a single divorce and yes, the other 12 are still alive. So yes, Swaziland sounds like a little piece of heaven...

But, that is probably the next trip. First there was Nelspruit. It's about a 1.5 hours drive from the border and part of it is through the mountains. Actually these are not real mountains, just hills, but when you come from flatland Holland, anything bigger than your beer belly is considered a mountain.

As you get closer to Nelspruit you will get the feeling that you just drove out of Africa and into the US. It is like approaching a Southern US city. The landscaping resembles it and so do the cars, shops and people you see around you. Fast food joints, car show rooms, malls, casinos, etc. And of course a lot of white people, the really white kind. Like the ones you normally see when visiting Orlando. Khaki's, polo's, big tennis shoes, white knee-high socks and the corpulence to match it.

Nelspruit, as I've been told, is part of Boers land. During the Boer War, Nelspruit served briefly as the seat of government for the South African Republic (not to be confused with the Republic of South Africa), an independent Boer republic. In more recent times, mainly during the apartheid reform and post-1994 eras, a number of white Afrikaans-speaking people, mainly with "conservative" political views and of trekker descent, have preferred to be called "Boers", rather than "Afrikaners".

So there I am, in Orlan... oops... Nelspruit. What to do? Well, do what all other Mozambicans do when visiting Nelspruit: Shop till you drop! I was ready! Debit card in one hand, credit card in the other. Hit me with your best merchandise!

I stormed into the mall and immediately into a clothing store. Nope. Wrong store. Men's clothing there consisted of khaki's, polo's, plaid shirts and army pants. And a lot of army pants! Pants, shorts, t-shirts, jackets... all with army prints. I though I entered the Rambo Factory Outlet.

Okay, next store! Shoot! Wrong store. Men's clothing there consisted of khaki's, polo's, plaid shirts, and army pants. And a lot of army pants! Pants, shorts, t-shirts, jackets... all with army prints. This time I thought I entered the Tour of Duty duty free shop.

It is like you're in the middle of the base camp of a rogue farmer's army. I have visions of this vigilante 'farmy' running around in the middle of the night shooting at anything that moves. And I do mean any thing!

Okay, another store then....

Three times lucky? You guessed it! Not a chance! It turns out that the Nelspruit fashion trend for this year is the exact same fashion trend from last year, and the year before, and the decade before! Based on their sense of fashion, you can tell the Boers men descended from the Dutch...

I had so been looking forward to do some proper shopping, but that was obviously not going to happen. In the end I just bought a pair of black jeans. Levi's of course, since over here Pepe, Hugo, Calvin or Diesel are only known as names you could give to your son... or to your beloved all-terrain vehicle.

Then there's always the second thing a Maputonian does in Nelspruit and that is: raid the supermarket. Now that was much more fun. The supermarket (or hypermarket) has quite an extensive selection and for the Dutch it is even more fun as you shop for tamaties, karringmelk, hoendervleis, sop, sout and seep.

And..... biltong! I had never had it before, which is obviously the best reason to buy it. It's a local delicacy and is basically a stick of dried meat. You can get it in the supermarket, gas stations and even at candy stores, but the best is a dedicated Biltong Bar. There they have several different types of meat and different levels of dryness and southeid (that's saltiness). I loved it! If anyone (Kevin?) knows of a place in Utrecht where I can get good biltong, let me know!

Well, apart from also going to a real cinema and having my first fast food burger in 5 months, these were the highlights of my first RSA trip. Next one will be in 10 days time, but then to Kruger for the Big 5, Cape Town for the Big 6 and Johannesburg for the Big 1.

Gentlemen & Thugs

For all you 'roadtrip' fans, the Nelspruit story will continue in next posting, but this time I just had to write about my newly found passion: Rugby! No, I will not spend the next years eating a pig for breakfast, a cow for dinner, smashing beer cans against my head and counting leftover teeth in front of a mirror. No I'll just watch the sport once every four years and only from the quarter finals onwards.

Maputo is very close to the South African border and that means that a lot of South African influences are noticeable. For starters, they obviously drive on the wrong side of the road, even though this used to be a Portuguese colony and even those small chubby and hairy Iberians know which side one should drive.

Second, 95% of Mozambican tourism is South African, the Rand currency is widely accepted, all large South African companies have a presence here (e.g. mobile phone, cable TV, hypermarkets) and, apart from CNN and BBC World, the only interesting TV channels here are South African.

Okay, I lied. There's one absolutely brilliant local TV show called Fama Show. It's when Idols falls in love with Next Top Model and they decide to have a baby. If something goes horribly wrong during conception you get a creature called Fama Show. That is definitely one show they should've aborted way before birth. The participants are hopeless: as singers, dancers and as models. It's like putting myself and most of you on TV to sing, dance and look nice, and actually expect sponsors to line up.

A typical scene would be a participant trying to sing a pop song in English. Not only will it be extremely false, but also with a heavy accent which makes the song totally not understandable. You think you know the song, but it sounds like it's sung in Russian. In the meanwhile there is some dancing going on, including some support dancers. How do I explain this scene? Hmmm, for those of you familiar with Curaçao TV, the dancers on Telefiesta are 10 times better synchronised! For you not familiar with this Caribbean classic, just look at Britney Spears' performance during the last MTV Awards and imagine something even worse. Oh baby baby! Hit me baby one more time!

Back to rugby! For the last months 'local' South African TV (Supersport channels 1 through 7) had been advertising the upcoming world cup. Every TV ad had either a rugby player in it or a reference to a rugby player, pitch, coach or a ball. (By the way, aren't balls supposed to be round?)

Finally 7 September came, the start of the World Cup. I was curious to see what the fuss had been about. Is the game I never really watched any fun? Would it be a cool game to watch? Would I get into it? But at first, only disappointment. The first three weeks of this tournament had some 40 games, most of them extremely predictable. Maybe Argentina beating France could, with some imagination, be considered a major upset.

For the rest it was yawn yawn yawn. New Zealand beating Romania 142-10 or so. I lost count and probably so did the referee. Portugal and others being sent home with little chance of scoring. And yes, the Portuguese had a player which looked 50+, was short, very chubby and and very hairy (in the wrong places). At first, I thought Danny DeVito played for Portugal.

Was this a real world cup? It looked like a Ripley's Believe It Or Not freakshow! Come see the man with 5 bellies!

Luckily for me, I was in Holland for most of the first round, therefore 'missing' out on all the rugby fun. Once I got back it was time for the real thing... so every expert assured me.

I decided, if I wanted to get into it I better pick a favourite. My overall favourites were the Kiwi's or All-Blacks as they're known by in rugby circles. On a side note: the New Zealand national basketball team is nicknamed the Tall Blacks (I am now wondering who over there calls themselves the Ball Blacks or Fall Blacks). Well, my favs were knocked out in the quarters and every other team I picked lost, apart from Argentina. They went on to claim 3rd place in the end.

But what a fun game to watch!!! Especially in a bar full of fanatic South African supporters. South Africa's nickname is Springbokke, or just Bokke for short. These guys really get into it.

The game is like watching a bunch of (really big) kids fighting over a frisbee on the beach. They all pile on each other, pushing, shoving, sometimes even fighting. It is hilarious! They even have rules! I have no clue what these are, but sometimes while bodies are flying all over your screen (like in the opening scene of Saving Private Ryan), the ref all of a sudden blows a whistle and claims to have seen something. Probably some ripped off arm and that can obviously not be allowed.

My favourite moments? Two of them! The first, during one of the games things got heated up and two opposing players started getting into a real brawl. The ref whistled really loudly and got them apart. As a proper football fan I sat there and expected some more protesting and pushing, followed by two red cards. In rugby, the ref just says in the tone of your second grade teacher: "Don't spoil a great game!". The two guys, both the size of an American refrigerator, just bow their heads, nod shamefully and everything is fine. That's it! Amazing! Like the guy next to me in the bar said: "Football is a game of gentlemen, played by thugs and rugby is a game of thugs, played by gentlemen".

But the absolute highlight for me was seeing the Springbokke and their fans sing the South African national anthem before the final. I have never ever seen a national anthem being sung with so much passion and pride. And by each and every player and supporter. And it's a unique anthem It has 4 stanza's and is written in 5 official languages: Xhosa (first stanza, first two lines), Zulu (first stanza, last two lines), Sesotho (second stanza), Afrikaans (third stanza) and English (final stanza). In the end the South Africans claimed the title and I spent half the night listening to drunk guys 'n gals shouting 'Go Bokke!'.

PS: If any small hairy chubby Iberian feels insulted, I apologise. There's very little to be taken seriously when it comes to opinions expressed by myself in this blog. There's absolutely nothing wrong about being small, hairy and chubby. However, being Iberian is a burden you will have to carry forever... ;-)

Road Trip

Sorry guys, long time no posting. Why? Simply because I didn't find the time to write one. Normally I write posts in weekends but the last two have been fully booked with other stuff. First there was two weekends ago. This was the weekend aimed at avoiding deportation by the Mozambican Rita.

For you non-Dutchies out there, she's a politician, part of the previous cabinet of our prime minister Harry Potter, who's sole purpose in life was to waste my tax euros by making one law proposal after another, aimed at discriminating between Antillians and other foreigners. With 'foreigners' she refers - of course - to non-western foreigners (Don't ask...). I guess she wanted to go back a few hundred years in time (just like her hairdo). Luckily Holland does have a non-discrimination clause in its constitution. If only someone would've read that to her...

Now that she's out of the government and more-or-less thrown out of her party for insubordination, she's starting her own party. The name? Proud of Holland. Scary huh? Wasn't there a small European guy some 70 years ago with a similar slogan? Come to think of it, she has a freaky little moustache too!

Okay, okay, I'll get off the soapbox now. Getting back to my story, I currently have a 180 day visa, but can only stay 30 days in the country. This basically means I should go have a cup of coffee in Swaziland or South Africa every 29 days. You wonder why? Join the club! So do we! Since my return from Holland, I had been in Maputo some 25+ days, so it was time for a Kurdish style border crossing. A quick in and out.

The choice fell on a two day trip to Nelspruit, South Africa. That is somewhere between Klipspruit, Hectorspruit, Hoedspruit, Robertospruit and Groenespruitjes, and about 1.5 hours drive from the border. It is the place where all middle and upperclass Maputonians (I just made up that word) go for some serious shopping. The fact is, that however nice Maputo is, you cannot do proper shopping here. There are just not enough quality stores and the few have very limited stock. It's a husband's wet dream! ;-)

First, I had to rent a car and the choice fell on a very cute small Kia Picanto. A spicy car indeed! Okay, okay, I'll admit. It was the cheapest they had. But! It had a good radio CD player. As opposed to the brand new 2007 Ford Forest a colleague bought, which came with a cassette player! Yes, a cassette player. For all of you who have not yet hit the age of 35, that is a clunky piece of plastic which your parents used to record their favourites artists on (like Boney M and Harry Belafonte). You would spent 4 minutes fast forwarding and reversing in order to find that 2.5 minute song. And you could even buy a Walkman, which was an appliance 2 times the size and weight of you iPod, which enabled you to take no less than 20 songs on the road! a technological master piece!

My Kia was a left-hander. Meaning the steering wheel was on the right and you had to shift using your left hand. Yes, in Mozambique and South Africa they don't drive on the right side of the road, but the wrong side. I had driven on the left side before, in the Bahamas to be exact, but there I had an American car and it was an automatic (since the only sticks the Americans handle are cheese sticks). This car here was a whole new experience.

First of all driving on the left messes up your entire sense of orientation. Where to go? How to turn? Where to look? Luckily, I learned to drive on Curaçao where you develop a 360 degree street vision in order to survive and it was even further perfected in Rio where every traffic participant is allowed to develop their own traffic rules. Unfortunately, the local traffic cops have the same prerogative...

By the time I got used to shifting with my left hand, and even mastered the art of signalling a turn (the lever is on the other side of your steering wheel, so you keep turning on the window wipers when you actually want to signal a left turn), I was out of town and on my way to the border.

Oh no, the border! Yes, the border! The border represents many years of perfecting bureaucracy. Not only did I have to fill in a form in order to leave the country, but there's a whole separate counter, line and form to 'export' your car. You spent a lot of time filling in important details like engine and chassis number of you car, even though at the gate, some guy just checks if you actually drive a Kia.

Of course, once you have left Mozambique, the process starts all over again in South Africa. You fill in basically the same form (but the South African customs also want to know the serial number of your built in radio CD player), but now to 'import' your car. These guys sitting just 200 meters from each other should go have a cup of coffee together to discuss possibly, maybe using the same form? Just an idea.

Oh well, I guess this won't happen because in order to share that cup of coffee, one of them should cross the border... and they know how complex that is....

(hmm, this article is getting a bit long and I need to go to the sports bar in order to secure a table for the Formula 1 season grand finale, so I guess I'll have to tell you all about Nelspruit the next time)

Ponta d'Ouro

Last week Tuesday was a public holiday here in Moz. Something like Army day or so. Even the locals didn't really know why. It's a bit like Ascension day or Whitson in Holland. It's a public holiday, but less than 10 per cent actually has a clue why. You think that is bad? Every year we get a similar statistic regarding Easter. Only a small percentage even knows what (supposedly) happened on that day some 1.974 (being 2007 minus 33) years ago. The rest probably think we're celebrating the first hatching of a bunny egg or so...

A Dutch colleague, Astrid, being here on a 4 week assignment decided to extend her weekend and spend it in Ponta d'Ouro. That is a beach village on the very south eastern edge of this country. Right on the border with South Africa. Of course that means that the visitors are almost all South African and that the local economy runs on the Rand. So much so, that when I wanted to pay for something using Meticais, the girl at the counter looked at the money as if it was a picture of George W looking intelligent. So surpised! And she lives and works in Mozambique!

So, a few colleagues decided to use the holiday to go pick her up. That means, taking the 4x4 and driving there for about 3 hours on a road which can hardly carry that name. This was the worst "road" I ever took! It is a sand dune road which you cannot take unless you have a very good off-road vehicle. Not just any 4x4, but the real thing. So no Suzuki Samurai's or so, but the stuff you see on Camel Trophy or Paris-Dakar races.

At 07:15 hrs we mounted the Ford Forest of one of the managers and went on our way. First obstacle, the ferry to cross the harbour, right here in Maputo. That, of course, is another amazing display of 'how many can I fit in...". This ferry was a bit larger than the one I wrote about 3 months ago. This one was the size of a tennis court, so it fitted 9 cars, 2 large quads, a trailer and then still had enough room for a truck carrying cement blocks! You should see how they load up these ferries. Cars have to go back and forth 34 times to ensure that every single square inch is used. If a Paris Hilton on a diet fits in between two cars, then there's obviously way too much wasted space. Then again, any space occupied by Paris....

Finally we got to the other side. It was 09:15 now, we were two hours on our way and I could still see my hotel! The trip could really start now. The first hour driving was easy. It is on sand roads, but hardened sand, so quite smooth driving. On our way we passed Maputo's animal reserve where you find road signs warning you for elephants pushing over your car. At some point the road changes to the earlier mentioned sand dune path. Me and a colleague were sitting in the back. Not the best place to be! For 1.5 hours we were thrown around in the back. Heads bumping into each other. Later my brain was were my left testicle should be and my kidneys were playing hide-and-seek behind my lungs. I think I even ate my breakfast again that ride. It was not as good as the first time...

When we got there it was time for a quick lunch followed by the 3 hour quad ride. Yes! As a proper American would say: Awesome! Or "Vet!" according to the Dutch teens. I'll just stick to the Curaçao 'Campion!' It was really fun, doing a quad safari. Technically, it wasn't really a safari as the only animals you would see were gerbils and small monkeys. it was just a fun off-road challenge driving these things over the rough terrain. I want a quad! Now that is what I call toys for boys! Three toyful hours later me and my quad had to part ways. It was an emotional goodbye and I promised I would visit her soon again. That line really came out too well... ;-)

It was time to go back again. Yes, back to Maputo over that same road! this time there was an added bonus. It had rained making the road even more 'fun'. Another 1.5 hours wobbling in the back of the car. This time there were three of us back there making it even easier to bump heads. I think while knocking heads, we even swapped some IQ points back there. I felt really smart (but that could've been the cold beers too).

Oh well, around 21:00 hrs we were (finally) back in Maputo and ready for some food! 24 ribs and 2 beers later I was in my bed. I needed that!

PS: The world map on your right has been upgraded. Now you can look in even more detail where the visitors of this blog come from. Click on the map and a new page will open with a large world map. You can then click on a region to zoom in. And if you select 'map with smaller clusters' the red dots will even be more detailed.

PS2: Also the Google Map has been updated showing the spots described in this piece.

Holland Holiday

After an absence of three weeks, here's the African blogger again. Back in business! It is now Sunday afternoon and I'm sitting at Mundo's, the sports bar. On the screens there are two matches being played. On the large screen it's the rugby world cup, the biggest thing in this South African bar and on the small screen the final of the women's world cup football. As with the men the two countries which have played most finals face each other: Germany and Brazil. James just texted me saying that he's watching it too and it is as boring as women's basketball. Sorry ladies, but I have to agree.

I've been back now for a week after an extremely busy two weeks 'holiday' in Holland. It was so busy I heard myself say to someone: "I think I have an opening tomorrow morning between 10 and 11". This was supposed to be a holiday!!! But the two weeks were great! I know this is supposed to be a blog on Mozambique, but one entry on Europe couldn't hurt, could it?

As you know the trip started off on a wrong foot with the lack of fuel for my air plane, but I got lucky (thank you again, Mr Katanja). So I was back in Utrecht just an hour later than planned. To start off, that first day I already got shot to shambles. Death by needle as the medical services gave me a few more vaccine and tuberculoses related shots. After some more work related appointments I finally got to hang out with my friends at - where else? - Cafe Flater. That had been a long time and very enjoyable.

(By the way, I think a former Flater bar girl just 'fell' of the balcony of here actor boyfriend totally drugged and into a coma. You probably heard about it in the news this last week. It's on De Telegraaf with pictures and everything.Poor Kim).

Of course the highlights of the trip included live concerts of Prince and The Police and the visit to Spa Franchorchamps for the Formula 1 race! Let me start with Prince. As we were a bit late in booking a hotel, we ended up at a youth hostel. Last time I did that, I was actually a student visiting New York and staying at the local YMCA (No, that is not a gay bar for groups of guys dressed up as Indians, construction workers or police officers). Back then I swore never to do that again. Especially after I saw all the turds floating around the shared toilets just minutes after they actually cleaned it. Luckily this place, called the Vi.... ehh.... the Generator, was quite decent and relatively clean. Of course, I didn't dare touching a wall or shower curtain, but other than that, it worked out fine. Still again, the last time of course!

Prince was, well, Prince! Absolutely brilliant as a live artist. If you like live music you should definitely have done a Prince concert once in your life. Even if you don't like his music. What made it even better is that he only played his older songs, which increased the party feel as those are the songs all fans know by heart and let's face it, it was his best period. The absolute highlight though was at the end of the concert. It was over, lights were on, security was packing and people were leaving. When almost half of the people were gone, Prince just reappeared on stage wearing some sort of sweat suit and just started playing the piano. All by himself! People ran back, security guys had no clue what to do and we all went totally nuts. He played intros of his songs and then the audience did the lyrics. Absolutely brilliant!

There is actually some footage on his website of one of the London concerts. Check out a 10 minute set here.

Two days later it was time for The Police in Amsterdam. It was a good concert. They played all the favourites, Andy Summers is a great guitarist (better than I actually remembered) and it was the fulfilment of a childhood dream: seeing The Police live. And they really are one of the all-time best bands. Even now, it still sounds current and not old fashioned. However, it just is quite unfair to them (and I guess myself), to watch them live just two days after the purple one. But I'm happy I did.

Then it was time for the road trip with Frits. First to Maastricht on the Saturday, hang out there and party a bit and then, of course, the second leg to the Ardennes in Belgium for my first ever Formula 1 race. first of all, it is a very beautiful setting. A race track in the hilly forested area. Something wonderfully contrasting about seeing these mechanical wonders in between pine trees where you expect a grizzly bear to come at you at any second.

But what stuck most was the sheer impressiveness of these cars. They're fast, very very very fast! They are 10 times faster in real life than on television. And they make about 100 times more noise than you can even imagine! And so small! These are lawn mowers on some serious steroids! Rasmussen would race the Himalayas on this stuff!

And you know what I really missed during my stay in Maputo? That delicious 'Dutch' food! And I ate it all during these two weeks: Dim Sum, Pita Giros, Peking Duck Pancakes, Roti, Rijsttafel, Won Ton soup and of course the lovely Japanese twins Sushi & Sashimi! They're so yummie!

Then it was time to go back to Moz. After my two flights with Kenya Airways I had learned my lesson. This time I was doing my own luggage. First, no more KQ for me. Second, no thru-labelling of my suitcase. I flew KLM to Johannesburg and South African to Maputo, but I was getting my suitcase of the belt at JBG and checking it in again. It worked. The flights worked like a charm and I got back here on time and complete (meaning me and my suitcase made it together. we are so happy).

And The Winner Is...

After a small interruption, for which we would like to thank President Mugabe yet again, the blog is back on track with part 2 of the final quiz results.

7. How did former president Samora Machel die?
He was a Mozambican military commander, revolutionary socialist leader and eventually the Presdent. Machel led the country to independence in 1975 until his death in 1986, when his presidential aircraft crashed in mountainous terrain where the borders of Mozambique, Swaziland and South Africa converge. He is for the Mozambicans what Ataturk is for the Turks.

Machel's widow, Graça is convinced (like most of the country) the air crash was no accident and has dedicated her life to tracking down her husband's killers. In 1998, Mrs Machel married the then South African President Nelson Mandela. She thus became unique in having been the first lady of two different nations, although not simultaneously.

In 2006 it was reported that the South African government is to reopen the inquiry into Machel's death. The Minister of Safety and Security, told reporters in Parliament: "We owe it to the people of Mozambique to ensure the matter is thoroughly investigated. Discussions are under way for dealing with the matter." All of South Africa's law enforcement agencies are expected to be involved in the probe, in co-operation with their Mozambican counterparts. We're still waiting for that one...

8. On what street will our bank open its doors?
And that would - surprisingly - be the Avenida Samora Machel. The bank will open right next to the Gil Vicente movie theatre and Gil Vicente cafe, a jazz/blues blues club described in one of my earlies postings. Across the street there's park with next to it the Iron House designed by Eiffel.

It's a sharp contrast towards where we are now. Our current temp offices are in the middle of a very posh residential area. If I look out the windows there's no way you can tell you're in Africa. Okay, apart from the guards that stand in front of every house.

9. What will be the name of this bank?
BANCO TERRA, O BANCO DA NOSSA TERRA! Say it loud and say it proud! (Guess the movie!) Why do I say it proud? Simply because I am at the roots of this bank. Not just a bank. No, the first real Mozambican commercial bank! It is not a foreign bank that opened a branch here, but a local bank. Admittedly funded for a large part by European money, but still a local bank. Let us have a look at my crystal ball..... The year is 2026 and I'm sitting in an Cuban stadium in Havana watching the world cup football semi-final between Holland and Mozambique. On the bench, the African reserve players and coaches are wearing jackets with the Banco Terra logo on it and I lean over to your grandchildren and say "did you know that uncle Roberto was in the small team that set up that bank?" How cool would that be!? I am, of course, referring to Holland being in a semi final...

10. What type of nut is available in huge numbers in this country?
I loooooooove nuts. I hardly eat chocolate, candy or crisps. When I want to much on something, it's nuts. Not peanuts, but actual nuts. I adore pistachios, walnuts, almonds, hazel nuts and my favourites: Brazil nuts and pecans. But no, here there's only one single nut available. The cashew nut. Together with macadamians my least favourite nut. And it is really the only one you can find here. I have not even seen cans of mixed nuts yet. Oh well...

11. Approximately how many times can you fit Holland in Mozambique?
This one nobody answered correctly. Even though it is quite simple to calculate. Go to the CIA's World Factbook (never leave home without it!) which you can find in the my links section on the right labelled "Facts & Figures" and look up the area sizes for both countries and perform the calculation. And you know, the CIA is never wrong! Never! And Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone! And Iraq had weapons of mass destruction! And Fidel Castro is still a major threat!

There's one slight issue with this calculation. The factbook states land, water and total area separately. Now what should you take? Do you compare land areas? Or do you compare total areas? My logic, but that is not necessarily your logic or any logic at all, says that thou shall take land area as including water is not totally fair. For example, Holland's water area is about 18% of the total area. And are territorial waters included? That would make Canada even bigger! Oh well, everybody answered 20 times, whereas comparing water areas gives you a factor of 19 (actually 19.3) and land areas results in 23 times bigger! On a side note, the population of Mozambique is 20 million, as opposed to 16 million in Cheeseland.

And in case more people got the same number of correct answers, we had the tie-breaker where the closest one to the correct answer wins.

12. How many beers were there on my July hotel bill?
This was obviously by far the toughest question. Okay, I admit. I do enjoy the occasional beer. Actually enjoy the regular beer even more! But I am a social drinker, meaning that I drink in company. For those of you who've been to my place and have had a look in my fridge - and since I'm the kind that will serve you once and after that just point at the refrigerator, most of the visitor have - will have noticed that there's very seldom beer in there. I do not drink beer at home and drinking in the hotel bar is a bit like drinking at home (No, I do not employ bar staff at home. I wish!).

So the number of beers on my hotel bill is actually limited to a few I had with colleagues staying in the same hotel. Actually the bill is tainted as the beers I offered to these colleagues are also on my hotel bill. But then again, the question did not refer to the beers I drank, but to the ones on the bill. The correct answer should've been..... drum roll........ 14! Yes, that is fourteen. The number made famous by that other J.C. That's logical!

So, now you know all the correct answers and know how many you had wrong. All entries have been carefully reviewed by Robertole Lopelulu Abukaramirez from the renowned, respected and trusted accounting firm Arthur Andersen and there was a clear winner. The tie breaker was not necessary as Frits beat out the rest by answering 10 out of the first 11 correctly. Parabens!

In the meanwhile the award ceremony was almost cancelled due to a lack of a prize. That was still inside my suitcase somewhere between Dar Es Salaam and Amsterdam. Luckily for me and Frits (and Kenya Airways), the suitcase found its way back to me. And only a day and a half later. Suitcase and owner are doing fine and can be visited during the day. Please make an appointment.

Cannot Airways!

This latest posting, I apologise to all quiz entrants, is not the second part of the results, but an article on the latest developments. I am now sitting in seat 10F of an MD-11 (that’s a plane) that just left out of Dar Es Salaam on its way to Amsterdam. Nothing strange about that, you would think. Well, think again! My ticket says Maputo-Nairobi with Kenya Airways followed by Nairobi-Amsterdam with KLM. So what am I doing in an Amsterdam bound flight out of Tanzania? Let’s go back in time… (fuzzy image, fade out)

The days started fine. The alarm clock (well, actually the automated hotel wake up call that goes something like “good mooning! theez eez yo wakup col’ followed by music even an elevator would not dare to play) went at the planned time of 07:00 hrs. As my mini-break started the night before with some 12/M’s (the beer’s called 2/M, but I think I had six or so) I wasn’t entirely fresh but hey! It’s a holiday! After taking a shower I dropped some of my clothes in a colleagues room as I don’t want to go back and forth with all this stuff I don’t need in Holland anyway. I went down for breakfast and took my time. Some nice sunny-side-up fried eggs followed by a fresh fruits salad. I was feeling better already! The hotel-airport transfer was arranged for 09:20 and was very much on time. In Maputo the protocol is to be at the airport 2 hours before departure and the hotel adds another 30 minutes to that. They say it’s to be on the safe side, even though the biggest traffic jam I’ve seen in these three months was the line of 7 cars waiting on the Macaneta ferry (see one of the first articles on this blog).

Before checking in, the suitcase is scanned and some dude takes it out of the scanner and rolls your suitcase to the check-in line some 3 meters further away. This amazing piece of service sets you back a few Meticais, but… what the h! I’m in a good mood. Checking in went smoothly and then comes the long wait for my first flight. During this entire wait you ask yourself: why again did I show up this early? Luckily, the KQ (that is how every African calls Kenya Airways) flight arrived on time and we boarded. Then the first delay started. Some passenger was late. We wait and wait and finally a rasta dude shows up accompanied by two very official looking Brits. Official as in security officials. Later I hear this guy went to England, was refused entrance there and was escorted back to Mozambique by British immigration officials. Now he was back in a plane to return to England once again (via Nairobi) as Mozambique refused him too, as it was not possible to establish his nationality. When asked he would answer ‘I’m a citizen of the world!”.

So finally we departed out of Maputo with about an hours delay. No problem! I had more than 4 hours wait at Nairobi anyway so what could go wrong? The flight to Nairobi made one stop at Harare. That is in Zimbabwe, which as you might know is ruled by president Mugabe. This is the president that a few years back repossessed all farms from white farmers which was quite a bloody mess. One of his latest ploys is to not allow companies with majority foreign ownership So yes, foreign investors are running. Logical result: the economy of Zim (as everybody around here calls it) is collapsing.

So we’re there in Harare and looking out the window, I see a fuel truck next to the plane and 6 guys (!) involved. I remember wondering why you needed 6 guys to fuel a plane. A few minutes later I found out what was really going on. The 6 guys were there discussing the amount of fuel. It turns out that due to the collapse of the local economy there are fuel shortages and Mugabe had decided to ration fuel distribution. Even for regular scheduled flights! Like a plane is supposed to cover the same distance with less fuel! Not his problem!

So the KQ captain came up with a new plan. He had enough fuel to fly to Dar Es Salaam. There we would refuel and continue our journey to Nairobi. Total additional time? Less than an hour. I was still looking good. Still two hours to switch planes in Kenya. Should be enough, even for my suitcase.

Just before landing in Tanzania, the purser starts collecting all the head phones. I ask him why, as we still had the last leg to Nairobi ahead of us. His answer: “the captain wants us to”. This is where I started getting a little bit suspicious. We landed (actually bounced) in Tanzania, taxied to the gate and then it became very quiet. Looking out the window, no fuel truck. Also no announcements by the captain. Everybody just looking at each other with question marks on their foreheads. Finally the captain gets on the mic and starts his sentence with ‘Unfortunately…”. Noooooooooooooo, I had heard that word so often already on this flight! Unfortunately the crew was out of their hours, meaning they had flown up to the allowed legal limit and where therefore not allowed to fly us to Nairobi.

Of course, there’s no crew readily available in Dar Es Salaam. They have to be flown in from Nairobi. And it was expected that they would arrive in 3 to 4 hours time. Bye bye KLM connection in Nairobi! At that moment I knew I would spend 5 hours waiting on the airport in Tanzania, go to Nairobi, get into an airport hotel booked by the airline and pray they can rebook me on the morning KQ flight or on the next KLM flight (which would be 24 hours later).

Of course the captain apologised and promised we would be well fed and telephone services would be made available to contact my loved ones (that’s all of you of course). So after 30 minutes waiting in the plane, we were led to a closed section of the airport restaurant where a buffet was looking eager to be eaten. One problem: there was absolutely no one from the airline or even from the airport available. The transfer desk people probably expected to be bombarded with questions and fled. The KQ people obviously thought that attending to their stranded customers was not a priority. And the phones? Yeah right!

After a few minutes of looking around I noticed a departures screen which said that there would be a KLM flight from Kilimanjaro, passing by Dar Es Salaam on its way to Amsterdam. This is when the big search started. Forget searching for Easter eggs, finding your ideal job or even the love of your life. Finding a KLM, KQ or Transfer Desk staff member on Dar Es Salaam airport is the real challenge! There we were, me and 3 girls who were also booked on my flights, running from left to right, stopping every person wearing a uniform to ask if they were or knew anyone from those companies. Everybody was very sympathetic. When we asked them if they could contact someone to come and talk to us they all answered ‘Yes, we understand. Yes’ and went on with their whatever-they-were-doing.

So we decided to risk it and enter the country, meaning, we passed immigration to try to find the KLM check-in counter. That could potentially mean, filling in forms, paying for a visa and be subject to airport tax again. One of the girls charmed the immigration officer to let us through without all that hassle. You should’ve seen the dude. He was eating out of her hand. Okay, she was cute, but still… He took our passports hostage and we were on our way to the desk. There our hope quickly vanished. The desk head didn’t look eager to help us and stated repeatedly that they were overbooked and we should not expect anything. We went back, got our passports again from the love puppy and were ready to surrender.

That is when Mister Karanja appeared! I call him Mister with a capital M, because he is THE MAN! There was still not a single KQ guy attending to the passenger, but Mister K, actually working for KLM, decided to attend to these poor people. And he didn’t have to, as it was a KQ problem. After patiently having talked to everyone it was our turn. We explained the situation and how we would really like to be transferred to this KLM flight from the Nairobi one, if he had seats available of course. He said ‘Yes, I understand. Yes’ and went on. For a few minutes we sank back in our chairs not expecting much from it, but no. Is it a bird? A plane? No! It’s Mister K! And he wanted my luggage tag! That was not yet the same as receiving a boarding pass, but very close to it!

The sad part (well, to be honest, not for me), he only asked for my luggage tag. And yes, an hour later he returned once again with a boarding pass for me, but not for the girls, as he had only one available seat. Being the total gentleman that I am, I properly said my goodbyes and rushed off for the gate! Vamos emborra! So, after yet again an eventful set of flights, I was finally on board a plane going to Amsterdam and the arrival time was only 90 minutes later than my original flight from Nairobi.

(This last part is written while on the Schiphol train to Utrecht)

Needless to say, my suitcase did not make it yet again. I guess it is in Nairobi. Either my suitcase really loves Nairobi or KQ can just not say goodbye to it. I have now flown KQ twice and both times I arrived without my precious box of - now dirty - clothes. Oh well, I guess KLM will just have to drop it at my doorstep somewhere in the next few days.

The Results Are In!

Yes, August 31st is now behind us and that means that the Maputo Memoirs Quiz is now closed. No more entries are accepted... unless accompanied by a 'refresco' which translates to refreshment, and is local police language for what is known in Brazil as a 'jeitinho'. It usually consists of a friendly handshake where some content is transferred over (from you to them of course). This content not being a refreshment...

I started writing down all answers to the question and elaborated a bit too much on these. As I do not want to let all this typing go to waste, I decided to keep the suspense as high as possible and cut the article in two. You will therefore have to wait another few days for part II of the answers and the announcement of the winner. I hope your heart can handle the suspense!

(And as I'm very busy at work, since I'll be out of the office during my home leave these coming weeks. It is therefore quite convenient to have the next blog entry already prepared...)

So, let me not keep you waiting much longer. Grab your answer sheets and keep score!

1. How many countries share a land border with Mozambique?
Probably the easiest one out there. Just look at any map. Well, at least one with the African continent on it.... and with land borders... and not older than 15 years as country names do have a tendency to change on this continent. You will see that this country borders (from north to south) the following six countries: United Republic of Tanzania, Malawi, Zambia, Zimbabwe, South-Africa and Swaziland (and then South Africa again). On the east side after a long swim you will arrive on the beaches of Madagascar, but as it technically does not border Mozambique, it is excluded.

In November James and I intend to visit Swaziland and South Africa during a short holiday to conclude my assignment here. If I don't return, I've probably been eaten by a lion, shot by James (who is from Brooklyn, so you never know) or run over by a hippo. Despite its popularity in zoos and cuddly portrayal in cartoons, the hippopotamus is among the most dangerous and aggressive of all mammals (didn't expect that, did you?).

2. How do you say 'shrimp' in Portuguese
That would be camarão and is the first and only thing you should look for when visiting a Mozambican sea food restaurant for the first time. I've said it before and I'll say it again, shrimp is the thing to eat here. I've eaten I don't know how many shrimp since I got here and it is soooooo good. Even the vegetarians love it. A vegetarian friend of mine here decided to quit her belief for one night to enjoy the local delicacy. Actually come to think of it, she's been sick ever since! (but I don't think from the shrimp).

The shrimp is the most important catch for the country’s fisheries sector. But shrimp, just like everything else actually, have been overfished. In the 1980s they would catch about 80 kilos an hour. Now they catch 26 kilos an hour. To try to conserve the little buggers the government is no longer issuing new licences to fish for them... at least in theory, since a nice 'refreshment' can get you everything here.

3. Which football legend was born in Mozambique?
...but actually never played for this country. He was born and raised here in Lourenço Marques (former Portuguese name of Maputo), but his talent got noticed by the Portuguese, who at that time still occupied Moçambique, resulting in his move to the Iberian peninsula in his late teens. There, 'the Black Pearl' played at the club Benfica for 15 years, and is the team's all-time top scorer. He got international recognition in the 1962 European Cup final 5-3 win over the then dominant Real Madrid and was elected European footballer of the year in 1965.

During the World Cup 1966 in England, he helped Portugal reach third place, being the top goalscorer of the tournament. Remember? The one world cup were, for a change, the Germans got robbed in a final (do I hear a cheer coming from Hungary, Holland and Argentina? and a big boohoo from England?). Of course I am talking about Eusébio Ferreira da Silva, better known as simply Eusébio!

4. What is the name of the local currency?
The Metical Nova, the new Metical (plural: Meticais). Not so long ago they had only one Metical (now known as the old one) which replaced the Portuguese Escudo in 1980 and everyone was a millionaire! Beverly Hills was nothing compared to Maputo. People earned and spent millions! The average monthly salary was 1,500,000 Meticais! And that was just for a job as a doorman! Obviously this meant that you needed a wallet the size of a backpack in case you wanted to buy a suit and pay cash (since paying in stores with a bank card was not common).

The Metical underwent severe inflation. After the revaluation of Romanian Leu (yes, Cosmin was once a millionaire too), the Metical briefly became the least valued currency in the world, at a value of about 24,500 Meticais per USD, until the Zimbabwean Dollar took this prestigious title in August 2005.

In July 2006 they switched to the new Metical by basically crossing out the 3 trailing zeroes. One of the funny consequences of this is that now most locals totally mix the words Thousand and Million. Even in their own Portuguese language. Basically when counting hundred Metical notes they say: "seven hundred... eight hundred... nine hundred... one million". I guess it is tough not to be a millionaire any more.

5. What is the most spoken first language in this country?
Once again the CIA comes to the rescue. Where would the world be without them...? But, back to the question. This was a slightly tricky one, as first instinct would be to answer Portuguese, which is the most spoken language here. However, it is not the first/native language for most people. On the subject of first languages, the factbook states (in order): Emakhuwa 26.1%, Xichangana 11.3% and Portuguese 8.8%, followed by over 10 (!) local tribal languages.

Xichangana (pronounce: Shjangana) is the language of the South and therefore most heard in Maputo. All Mozambican languages are all so-called Bantu-languages and these were introduced through migrations by tribes from Central Africa.

Why so many languages in one country? The creation of Mozambique – just as the creation of other African states, like for example Nigeria where you could actually split it up in 3 different countries, which would probably be best for them anyway – was done without regard to the local conditions, tribes, culture, language etc. This took place in Berlin around 1885, where the European countries sat down to share Africa. A bit like playing Monopoly. Can I get this street and then I'll give you that other one in return? The idea was to give the land to the power who had that particular area under control. Funny enough, Portugal did not have control over Mozambique, but still it got the right to have this as a colony. Strange huh? Maybe a refresco?

6. (Tough one) How do you say 'Thank You' in this language?
Once you had the answer to the previous question, finding the answer to this one would be a question of proper googling. Entering +emakhuwa +"thank you" in the Google search box would give you some 56 results from which a few contain simple dictionary. There you will find that the proper way to say 'thank you' in that language is Asantte.

Of course, if your answer to question 5 was Portuguese, you would've answered obrigado and/or obrigada to this question, depending on whether you are a boy or girl (to find the answer to that dilemma please measure the amount of time you need to get ready for an evening out. If it is over 30 minutes there's a 90+ percent chance you're a girl and therefore should say 'obrigada' to your impatiently waiting boyfriend for putting up with your dressing ritual...).

If you answered Xichangana (and I have no clue why, unless you're British... Hi Chris! Now you know which questions you answered incorrectly) on the previous question, your answer here would be Kanimambo.

That was it! The answers to the first 6 question. Keep an eye on this blog for the next few days (and the other on your boss in case he walks by, so you can quickly minimize this screen and pretend you were working) for the following six anwers and..... the Winner!!!

Home Sweet Hotel

Just 2 weeks ago I decided to move hotel. Originally I was in the Polana hotel which is quite a presidential palace kind of hotel. The type of hotel you see in those dictator movies. You know the scene: Outside, people are chopping each other up into many bite-size pieces and inside the general, who just committed the bloody coup d'etat, is enjoying a brandy with some foreign ambassador. Hotel Rwanda! Luckily no one was chopping outside. The only chopping going on were the art craft salesmen working on their merchandise in between 'harassing' all the unsuspecting tourists walking by.

The Polana is a very nice hotel and staying there is like visiting the African Madam Tussauds. The big difference being that the 'statues' are not made out of wax but are the actual originals. It is the hotel where all the famous, rich and/or important people stay. Come to think of it, some of their wives' faces did look like they were made out of wax.

So, in the 2 months I stayed there I saw almost every African president (including their entire posse which can be quite large), the Senegalese national football team, the internationally acclaimed local painter Malangatana (his work can be seen here) and even an actress from Law & Order. Not that I recognised her, but some countryman of hers felt it necessary to announce to all at breakfast how famous his table guest was. I also had Adriaan van Dis, Willem-Alexander and Maxima as co-guests. For you non-Dutchies, these are people that are 'world famous in Holland'.

What else can I say about the Polana? It's very nice and very old fashioned at the same time. It has a great garden with a large (unheated) pool. I tried going in there once, but it was this cold (holding my thumb and index finger about two inches apart). The WiFi works in most parts of the hotel, so you can sun bathe pool-side with your laptop while updating your blog. Not that I would do that, since as a proper Antillian I "sun-bathe" and blog in the shadow.

The restaurant is the only place in Maputo which has European prices on their menu. For one big meal at Polana you could eat an entire week anywhere else. And I've heard the quality isn't that great. I didn't eat there since I don't like eating in hotels. It is sad enough to live in one, so I avoid eating in it too.

And then there's the Polana Hotel Bar. Normally hotel bars are quite lively with business men and women enjoying a few beers after yet another tough day, but the hotel bar here is a bit to stuffy for that. It looks like one of those men-only social clubs where old men with grey hair and grey suits sit in green leather chairs enjoying a whiskey and cigar. The one good things is that they have a great piano player and a local female singer with an excellent voice. I'm not a Whitney Houston fan, but this girl did a flawless "I will always love you" at full force without microphone. And that, my friends, is impressive!

By the way, the bar has this Norwegian spirit called Akvavit (aka aquavit) and legend has it that it will only taste right if it has crossed the equator twice! So that is exactly what the factory does. They ship the barrels before bottling it and on the back of the label you will find the name of the vessel and the dates it crossed middle-earth. Just a bit of trivia that might come in handy during a quiz night (It ain't easy!). On Wikipedia I found the following:

Particular to the Norwegian tradition is the occurrence of Linie akvavits (such as "Løiten Linie" and "Lysholm Linie"). These have been carried in oak casks onboard ships crossing the equator ("Linie") twice before it is sold. While many experts claim that this tradition is little more than a gimmick, some argue that the moving seas and frequent temperature changes cause the spirit to extract more flavour from the casks. Norwegian akvavit distillers Arcus has carried out a scientific test where they tried to emulate the rocking of the casks aboard the "Linie" ships while the casks were subjected to the weather elements as they would aboard the same ship. The finished product was according to Arcus far from the taste that a proper "Linie" akvavit should have, thus the tradition of shipping the akvavit casks past the "Linie" and back continues.

So I decided to switch hotels and I now 'live' in the Hotel Avenida, which is a more modern typical business traveller hotel. Definitely not as 'posh' as Polana, but I actually like it a lot more. For starters, it is right smack in the middle of what I now call the Polana strip. The strip is where most of the restaurants, the sports bar, some banks, the movie theatre and a mini shopping mall is located. Actually, you would almost think that you weren't in Africa when walking the strips apart from all the huge sidewalk holes, street vendors and beggars... and the cars, the smell, the badly maintained apartment buildings, the many guards with AK-47's etc. etc.

The hotel also has a quite well equipped gym. I hadn't seen one since leaving Holland (even though the Polana had an ancient gym) and I could tell! I was developing love handles like never before. Well probably more lack-of-love handles as some loving would've implied some form of activity. So now I am being a good boy again and take the elevator up to the top floor to exercise a bit with a nice night view of the city. That, and the fact that I'm playing football again, should bring me down to my usual athletic muscular Adonis-like sculpted figure... (did I just hear someone cough?)

Overall the hotel has a more modern and younger feel to it. The room size and rates are the same, but the facilities just a bit more 21st century: proper climate control and a consistently working shower. Also the guests are more my peers: business people, consultant types, etc. The Polana looked like a board room, the Avenida like a project meeting room, if you know what I mean.

Well the fact that I am now finally not sleeping next to the elevator engine (yes, I requested a different room....3 times!) and that the hotel is not trying to charge my credit card without me, nor my card, nor my signature being present (did somebody say 'fraud'?) is also a nice little added benefit of this move, but that is an entirely different story...

I like!

Ladies and gents. This is just a quick message to let you know that you have only one week left to enter in the big Maputo sweepstake! One week to win Mozambique's greatest souvenir! Just answer the 12 questions in an email to myself and you could be our lucky winner!

So far no one has answered all questions correctly. The toughest question of course being the last one. If I see the answers you guys have submitted, I drink anywhere between 0 and 7 (!) beers per day in the hotel. Wow!

The souvenir has been bought and I must say, it is really nice! To quote my American friend who's a big Borat fan: "High five! I like!"

Shoprite or Wrong?

I’m playing football now on a regular basis. The first two months were great but I really felt that something essential was missing from my life. Well, apart from the Ferrari, yacht, an Oscar, a Puma sponsorship deal and the two super models, of course… It was something different. I had not been playing football for the entire period. Two months without touching a single ball… (ehhh… No, too easy!). And I wasn’t even injured.

Of course there was enough football to be seen. Not only did I visit the legendary Mozambique vs Senegal game, but I could also follow the European Under-21 tournament Holland won (with the extremely overestimated Drenthe), the Copa America (great goal by Messi against Mexico) and even the FIFA Youth World Cup in Canada in which Sergio, the youngest of ‘my’ Argentinian 2005 squad, won the best player and goal scorer award (next to his second consecutive world title).

It is funny, actually, how I could (if I wanted to) see more football here in Third World extremely poor sub-Sahara Africa than most of you guys in techno Europe and US. Yes, last week they even had the Amsterdam and Rotterdam tournaments live.

But, now I joined a team. Well, not really a team, but a local pick-up game. A bunch of guys play every Friday in a concrete courtyard a five-a-side game. Of course, it is all Maputo style. When I was invited to join they informed me that the game would start at 20:00 hrs. I normally work until 18:30 hrs which shouldn’t be a problem apart from the fact that I had to buy some sort of futsal shoes first. And I had no clue where to buy this. Not only is there no such thing as a shopping area or a mall, but all stores close rather early as well (and yes, they have a long siesta too).

This is where our management assistant (even though here they are still referred to as secretary) came to the rescue. She offered to go with me to the Shoprite shopping centre. Did somebody say shopping centre??? A real one? One with real brand stores, hallway music, a car raffle, fast food joints, multiplex cinema, bored teenagers and frustrated husbands carrying their wives bags? YES! YES! YES!

No!.... It’s a supermarket, two banks, a flower shop, a shoe store and possible one or more kitsch gift shops I might have missed on purpose. And don’t think the shoe store is where I went for the futsal gear. No, here in Maputo, if you really want to succeed in shopping, you go to the supermarket! Either the Shoprite of the Game. These are not just your regular supermarkets, these are hypermarkets. Brazilians, Americans and the French will know these. It’s the kind of supermarket that is the size of a regular IKEA and apart from your Camembert cheese you can also buy a pool table or a new suspension for your car. And while you’re at it, don’t forget to pick up a plasma TV, wheel barrel, Christmas tree and a new wedding dress in aisle 14.

Since I already have good futsal shoes back home, I decided to go for the cheapest possible futsal look-a-like shoe. In the meanwhile the secretary had gotten company from the HR girl of our bank. It’s almost like women can smell when someone (with credit card) is going clothes shopping. What is that? Where do they get this talent from?

And they were ready! We arrived at the store together in the same car, but for some inexplicable reason these ladies had already scanned the entire sport shoe section (and undoubtedly the women’s shoe section as well) before I even got there! And they had already picked one for me. And it was perfect! I tried them on, they fit and I headed straight towards the cashier leaving behind two very disappointed looking women. The shopping was over! I committed the ultimate man sin. I went shopping with ladies and had succeeded in 39.32 seconds...

However, these women did not give up. They dove into the shoe mountain only to re-emerge with all different kind of shoes in their hands. Try this one! Maybe you like this one more! What about the one with the cute purple stripe? Why not try them all? Desperation was taking over. All rationale disappeared. Done with shoe shopping within a minute??? Impossible! Where’s the world going too? Al Gore was right! We’re doomed!

I ignored the howl of the sinister shop sisters and walked in a steady unwavering pace straight to the cashier. Don’t look back!, I kept telling myself. They’re probably more afraid of you than you of them. I reached the caixa without a scrath, quickly paid the 800 Meticais for the pair (that is a staggering 24 Euro) and headed for the car. A few minutes later they appeared. I trembled, but that wasn't necessary. I guess the full moon must’ve disappeared behind a cloud, because they were close to normal again. However, it was a long quiet ride back to the hotel…

PS: I actually intended to write about the local football thingy, but this article totally diverted and I more or less filled the page with the shopping part. Oh well, African football stories will have to come some other time.

It's Quiz Time!

This is your chance to bring a little piece of Mozambique into your home! Through the following quiz you can win a locally crafted item to decorate your home, office, caravan, tree-hut or cardboard box with. There are so many local art craft salesmen outside the hotel harassing me whenever I walk out, I figured I might as well reward them for their persistence and buy something from them one day. And it can be yours! Just be the one that answers the most questions correctly.

How to Enter:

1. Complete below multiple choice questions and email your answers to me.
2. Do this no later than 31 August 2007 (yeah, you have some time).
   
3. Hold your breath in excitement as you wait for the final results.
4. Make your testament (do this before step 3).

Competition rules:

• Everybody can enter. Even close relatives and employees. Even I can enter!
• You can enter only once, even if you have a multiple personality disorder. I that case you each can also only enter once...
  
• If you have no personality you can try to enter using someone else's.
• There is no age limit, even though the organisation will be quite suspicious if people under the age of 4 enter. In that case both parents will be excluded.
• There's no limitation with regards to sex. However, it is not recommended to complete this quiz during it.
• And last but not least. There will be no mandatory drug testing.

Ready? Here we go!

1. How many countries share a land border with Mozambique?
2. How do you say 'shrimp' in Portuguese
   
3. Which football legend was born in Mozambique?
4. What is the name of the local currency?
   
5. What is the most spoken first language in this country?
   
6. (Tough one) How do you say 'Thank You' in this language?
   
7. How did former president Samora Machel die?
8. On what street will our bank open its doors?
9. What will be the name of this bank?
   
10. What type of nut is available in huge numbers in this country?
11. Approximately how many times can you fit Holland in Mozambique?

And in case more people get the same number of correct answers, we have the tie-breaker. Closest one to the correct answer wins.

12. How many beers were there on my July hotel bill?

On behalf of the organisation, the judges, the notary, the sponsor and the union for multiple personality disorders, me, myself and I wish you all good luck!

Bridget Jones

Riiiiiiiiiiiiight. You voted on the survey about what the next topic should be on my Mozambican blog and the subject you really really are dying to hear about is Bridget Jones. A chubby desperate pale single girl from the UK? I guess James didn't vote otherwise I'm pretty sure a different category would've popped up as the clear winner...

Well, to start of with, there are no people from the UK in Mozambique. Not a single one seen so far, which is not so unusual as it is not a former British colony and not the Spanish coast (which seem like the only places Brits go to). Oh by the way, for some weird reason Mozambique does get to participate in the commonwealth games.

So not a Brit to be seen, apart from an old guy that has been working here a while and sits in the hotel bar every single night from 18 hrs onwards waiting for his local girlfriend (which could've been his granddaughter). Sometimes she's late, which is not entirely unusual over here, and by then he's gone a bit drunk (due to the continuous drinking without yet having had dinner) and starts mumbling to himself with the occasional yelled out complaint towards the live entertainment. What he complains about? Oh, in the middle of a Whitney Houston song he'll scream out something like "Sing in English! None of this local language bullsh*t!".

Of course, at some point his 'baby' shows up and then the entire bar gets to enjoy the scene where he tells the girl that she's late and she apologises. A bit like a primary school teacher telling off his student. Highly disgusting. Enough about the Mackerel (which is our nickname for him).

If I look around here for Bridget Jones, what resembles her most are the female South African tourists. You get a bunch of them invading the city and its nearby beaches. 90% of the tourism here is from the RSA since it is the shortest route to a beach from the eastern side of South Africa. These guys an' gals are exactly that: guys an' gals.

They highly resemble what in the US would be called red necks! Big obnoxious farmers with their sloppy wives and girlfriends invading Maputo with huge 4x4's acting as if they own the country. The real Afrikaners. Also, a lot of the beach houses and hostels up north are owned by South Africans and you hear really bad stories about how they treat their local staff. Often they also do not accept guests which are a bit more 'tanned', if you know what I mean. They probably still live in that era when Mandela was still on Robben island (no, not named after Arjen). Of course, I am talking here about a specific group of South Africans, mostly (game) farmers, which are probably not representative of the country (my apologies Kevin, in case you read this and feel offended).

So what else can I say about Bridget Jones? The local Bridget Jones' are very active and aggressive. They do not sit around in a corner praying some handsome guy will court them. They do sit in a corner, but that is where the comparison stops. They sit there and scan the area for prey. If you are a foreigner and you dare to look at one for more than 0.7 seconds (yes, I have done the full experiment and that seems to be tipping point) then you can bet she will get up and jump all over you. Hello mister meal ticket! It will take you 0.7 hours to undo your 0.7 seconds.

These girls are not what one would call 'working girls'. They are comparable to what in Singapore is known as SPG's, Singapore Party Girls. Mostly very attractive and representative girls, wearing expensive clothing and jewellery (very likely donated by the one before you), hanging out in hotels and touristy bars and speaking fluent English. The concept is simple, they hang out with you and you pay the bills and buy her a few gifts. I guess you can see them as a one woman Escort Service. Self employed company!

And in case you were wondering, the answer is no...

PS: The survey on this blog has been updated, so feel free to vote again.

One Big Marketplace

Like in any poor country there are many people on the streets trying to sell you lots of stuff. We all know the scene, when you are on holiday and locals offer necklaces, bracelets, wooden crafted statues, paintings or just some local snacks. Here in Maputo you have the same and then a 'little' bit more.

It starts quite simple with some 5 guys just outside the hotel (and outside every hotel or touristy restaurant) spreading wooden pieces of art on the side walk. Oh, and by the way, these items include 2 meter tall wooden giraffes. Try to explain that at your airlines check-in counter.

You walk buy and they ask you relatively politely whether you would be interested in acquiring a piece, or maybe a few more. Like ten or so. Of course, they do not understand the meaning of 'no, thank you' (or maybe your English pronunciation is just not up to par) and make sure you really think about your decision. So they ask again... and again, totally ignoring whatever you say. It's almost like being on the phone with the corporate help desk.

It is even worse if you are a female tourist (i.e. a white woman). Then you're in for the ride. With guys, one comes up to you, asks the question 4 times and once you've shrugged him off, the rest kind'a just points at their stuff but know you'll just mumble the nao obrigado and that will be it. A woman comes along and all 5 guys grab as many items from their 'display' into and onto their arms, run up to her and surround completely surround. Buy mine! Mine! Mine! For some inexplicable reason the local salesmen think women really love shopping...

So if you're a guy, let any woman walk past them first and then it's free sailing for you all the way past the market. But the hotel guys are quite innocent compared to the rest. Once you get further into town, the market place becomes more diverse and so does the approach styles. And it really gets diverse.

Outside any restaurant you can buy jewellery, paintings, batik cloths, t-shirts, socks, suits (!), DVD's (Yes, Harry Potter, the Simpsons and Bourne Supremacy are already available here), prep-paid phone cards, Mont Blanc pens, Ray Ban and Oakley sunglasses, Havaianas, cashew nuts and candy bars. Overall it is fair to say that the side walk here has as good a collection as the Albert Heijn To Go at the Utrecht Central Station, but it comes without their rats of course...

I even could buy, and this is the best of all, electric extension cords and outlet adaptors! I really have no idea when and where someone proved that selling those items in particular was a profitable way of making ends meet, but I guess it happened...

Then you go further into town. In the area where all the (non-touristy) shops are. There the side walk market only gets better. Ever thought of starting your own business? Maybe you wanted to be Al Bundy and start your own shoe store? Be independent? Define your own marketing and sales strategy? Do things the way you think they should be done? Great! Of course, starting up your own shoe store is not easy. The most expensive part of course being the store itself. You need to find the right location, hope there's a building available, pay x months rent upfront, get some interior decoration done, design your display and all of that before you've sold a single shoe!

Why not do it the Mozambican way? You buy your shoes at the wholesaler, throw them on your wheel barrel, push that around town until you find the perfect spot, throw a few blankets on the pavement, line up your shoes on it and start selling. If you want to, you can even do so right in front of a 'real' shoe store. The owner won't like it, but hey, it's a free world here (at least since 1992). And I do not mean a single guy with a blanket with some 20 or so pairs on it, but basically an entire shoe store is laid out in front of you. With staff!!! I wonder if they have performance management cycles also...

Of course there is more than only shoes. Anything, and I mean anything is sold through these street 'stores'. You can buy clothing, books, CD/DVD's and yes, car parts straight off the side walk. You can also have you shoe soles repaired or get your own tailored suit fitted. And the guy will actually sew your suit together right there on the pavement! Guaranteed hand-made!

Now also Interactive!

This blog has just been taken to the next level! Not only one, but two new functions have been added and they are both interactive!

First we have the 'who in the world is reading this blog' map. Quite a cool gadget showing the different locations from where it is being read. Technically it can be rigged and is therefore not 100% accurate, but in general it should be quite trustworthy. My mission of course is to get as many dots on this map as possible, so please do keep on reading during your holidays! And go really far away during these holidays! Go to Alaska, China, Japan or Siberia! Even if it is just to read this blog! I beg you!

Second new addition is the poll. Or I should say the survey. It is a quick survey for you to let me know what you would like to hear about. Currently the following four options have been listed:

The Office
What it is, where it is, what it looks like and what it is supposed to look like.

Mozambicanas
Maybe you are really interested in the local girls (for the ladies, we can discuss men in the future).

My Hotel
Or 'mi casa' as I call it. This dump I live in.

Bridget Jones
Don't ask me why I added this option, but it was playing on the television when I created the survey, and since I didn't have a fourth option at hand...

Now all rush out and vote! Voting is your constitutional right so make sure you make use of it! Vote as many times as you like if you feel really strong about a subject. Don't vote at all if you don't care!

Hasta la victoria, siempre!