Potpouri

Currently I'm in the Johannesburg airport lounge and have some 6 hours waiting ahead of me. It's now 18:00 hrs and my KLM flight isn't until midnight. This is my last trip back home after 7 months of Maputo. I guess that will also mean the end of this blog (assuming I don't lose my suitcase again, which requires me to write another entry tomorrow. Or just copy a previous one).

This entry is a collection of short stories and impressions I had collected earlier, but hadn't yet told you about. It's quite a long post.

Thieves

The local thieves are lazy! I mean, really lazy! Here they steal your car radio like in any other country. But they don't run away! Running costs too much energy. No, they just sit there waiting for you and by the time you return to your car, they come up to you and explain how they saw some guy stealing your car radio. Luckily for you, they were there and were able to stop the thief! Like some sort of superhero! Maputo Man! Of course, all this heroism comes at a price. And no, not cheaply, because superheroes need expensive clothing and gadgets. Hey! Batman was a millionaire too!

It is now rainy season, which makes these thieves a.k.a. superheroes even lazier. Now, instead of stealing your car radio, they just take your wipers. I guess that is good news, since it saves you the hassle of replacing a broken window. Thank you Maputo Man! As there's no way you can drive through a rain storm without window wipers, so you're even more 'forced' to buy something which is yours to start with! It is for this reason that you see local business men park their cars at work, take the wipers off and walk with these to their office. T.I.A.!

Presidential Transportation

Here the president and the prime minister are driven around, as is the case in any country. Obviously some security is required. Yeah, some! Whenever they go anywhere there's an entire motorcade of police motorcycles, cars with sirens, flashing lights and dark windows. Seriously, if JFK had this entourage, the CIA... ehhh.... Lee Harvey Oswald would've had no chance to shoot him. He would've been blinded by the lights nd deafened by the sirens.

The funny bit is also that the prime minister actually lives across the street from the president, but she still requires the entire parade to go for a work visit. Even though each morning she goes out for a morning jog with just one security guard.

Fish Market

One of the best places to eat is the local fish market, the Mercado da Peixe. It is what you kind'a expect at an African fish market. It is not that big, the stands look like they'll collapse any second and the fish just lie there and stare at you with their big seductive eyes. Behind the stands there will be a few women looking bored while waving the flies off their merchandise.

Apart from the fish you can get - what else? - shrimp! All kinds of shrimp. Big shrimp, even bigger shrimp, tiger prawns, langostinas and lobster! And all fresh as can be. Not the Dutch kind, where shrimp - caught a year ago, then deep frozen, shipped to Morocco to be peeled there, frozen again, returned - is then sold to the supermarket as fresh. No, these shrimp are so fresh, some of them are still looking for Nemo.

The bored women all of a sudden jump alive when you enter the market. The screaming and shouting starts. Fresh shrimp! Cheap fish! Buy mine! Great Price! Get your lobster here! You wander around and then start haggling. It is a big ridiculous if you consider that you're actually haggling to get the price of one kilo of tiger prawns from 10 to 7 euros (yep, you read that right. No typo). After that you pick up two 750 gram live lobsters for 8 euros and head off to the back of the market.

There is a large open space with many tables, surrounded by small brick buildings which function as kitchens. You sit at a table - obviously not before an army of waiters has tried to convince you to sit at theirs - and hand over your just acquired merchandise. You ask them to grill it over an open fire and add some fries, rice, salad and a few nice cold 2/M beers. The rest of the afternoon you just relax with your company and enjoy the best freshly BBQ-ed shrimp and lobster. What a feast!

Job Hunting

Everybody here is job hunting. Doesn't even matter whether they are unemployed, studying or already have one or more jobs. There's always more money at the other side of the fence. You see? It is not about a huge willingness to work or big ambitions. It is mostly about getting more cash. People stop you anywhere and ask you if you have open positions at your company. The funny bit is that they have no clue what company you work for or which industry for that matter. And I'm not talking unemployed people looking for a low level position. No, guys in business suits. Accountants, bookkeepers, etc. Also at the bank so far, more people have come by to drop CV's than actual company visitors. I've had CV's given to me by people in bars, restaurants, the waiter and the receptionist at the hotel.

I'm not trying to put the local work force down, but there is also a large difference in work attitude here compared to the previous 3 countries I've worked in. Work here is a thing you have to show up at in order to get money at the end of the week or month. If you can show up somewhere else and get more for it... then go for it! It really doesn't matter whether you just started the previous job.

And if there's a chance to take more than you deserve, do so! There's no shame. So basically every empregada (housekeeper) takes food from their employers for use at home or returns from the supermarket without handing back the change. Banks have three times as many checks and balances in place to make sure the staff doesn't skim a bit left and right, store owners don't allow staff to touch the cashiers and police officers hardly write out tickets but still cash in a lot. And most of the times it is not even their jurisdiction. I know, I am generalising a lot. There are good guys out there and some of this skimming is also because people here can be hugely underpaid. This is meant to be descriptive, not judgemental.

Phone Fraud

One evening in the very beginning, me and a colleague staying in the same hotel, had just returned from dinner and decided to have a drink in the hotel bar. When we got there, there was a lady sitting at a table with champagne glasses and a nice 200 dollar bottle in the cooler awaiting her other guests. At least, so we thought. Two hours passed and she was still there. Alone, drinking a glass of tonic and sitting at a table with the champagne bottle and glasses.

She starting looking around more nervously and all of a sudden burst out crying. The bartender immediately ran over to her to check what was going on. It turns out that she was there for some celebration where she would be handed over the keys to a brand new home she had just won. Or so she thought...

She was basically a victim of some fraud. It starts with an text message which congratulates you with the unique chance of winning something. It's actually guaranteed. You just need to call or text a number and your prize will be on its way. I get these messages regularly, but obviously ignore these. Well, not everybody does. She had spent well over 100 US dollars (which is a fortune for her) while being led to believe that she won a house. A real house! She was even sent to some construction site to admire 'her' home.

Now she was told to go to the Polana Hotel (yep, the most expensive) and wait in the bar for the press and the president of the organisation to officially hand over the keys to her new prize home. She was even told to make sure the champagne was ready. Now x hours later she started realising that she was a victim of fraud and she even couldn't afford the two tonics she just had in the bar. She was too decent to just get up and walk away and started crying out of ander and sadness. What a sad story. Fraud is one thing, but doing this champagne thing is just mean. Deep down inhumanly mean! There's nothing the frauds would gain from that, so why humiliate someone like that?

Swaziland

Did you know that I actually went to Swaziland? I know, I never wrote about it, but then again, I spent the total time of 24 minutes there. And of these 24 minutes, 23 were spent in a line. The immigration line of course! Immigration laws are very strict here. My business visa issued in Brussels is valid for 180 days, but I can only stay in the country for a period of 30 days in a row. Why? I do not know, but there must be a good reason for that. There must be some sort of security measure behind this. Maybe some anti-terrorism act?

It's actually quite similar in many countries. Most countries allow tourists to stay for 180 days, but only 90 in a row. After that you should leave the country for a pre-defined number of hours. Often 72 hours. A lot of backpackers or "immigrants" staying on a tourist visa have experience with this. What they usually do is plan a short holiday (i.e. a long weekend) out of town. Here it is similar. The only difference is you do not have to stay out of the country for 72 hours, but 72 seconds is enough (if only those lines were not so long). That's it! So that's exactly what I did. I drove for an hour to the Swazi border, parked the car just before this border (so I didn't have to export and import it), crossed the border on foot, turned around, crossed it again, got my stamp and drove back for an hour. I enjoyed every second of Swaziland! All 3 of 'em!

Well, that's it then! The end of the blog! (please, please, please, let my suitcase arrive in Amsterdam tomorrow). I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I did a similar thing in 2004 during my Olympic Volunteer experience and later on realised that I still read that blog once a year. Just to remind myself of what I experienced. I guess years from now, I'll still be the one regular reader of this one.

Abraços e Beijos!

From Dusk Till Dawn

As my time in Mozambique is nearing its end, I realise that I haven't done a single piece on Maputo's nightlife. Hence this item dedicated to the prowlers of the night and their hunting grounds.

Whenever anyone in this town starts about Maputo's nightlife there's one single word that is immediately uttered... Coconuts! Coconuts is the disco in town. actually it is not in town, but just outside of it long the beach. It is a large half open club which is mostly dance floor. People here don't mostly hang around to look at the few daredevils cramped on a small dance floor. Nope, people here dance! All night long!

Music is mainly African style hiphop, R&B with some dance tunes in between. Since my first time there in June until today the biggest floorfiller is still 'Rise Up' by Yves Larock. I absolutely cannot hear My dream is to fly...Over the rainbow...So high! again. The place is mainly filled with local people between 18 and 35, with some plucks of foreigners left and right.

Coconuts is not by itself as it is part of a complex that includes a restaurant, an outside swimming pool, some pool tables and Club Lounge. This is my personal favourite.You'll be shocked when you walk in there the first time. It looks like a proper trendy lounge and the DJ plays mostly underground house beats. For a second there you'll think you're in Amsterdam or New York. Not Maputo in Sub-Sahara Africa!

The place is more expensive than its neightbour and therefore attracts a slightly older crowd. Age here ranges from 25 to 40 and the number of foreigners is higher. It is the trendy place and all local hotties parade on the dance floor, possibly in search of a cute foreign boyfriend? Of course that rules me out...

Next to the Coconuts/Lounge complex is another large complex with a restaurant Meat & Co, the Polana Casino and the Zsa-Zsa bar dancing. This dancing is extremely middle of the road golden oldies. And that is not only the music, but also the people. Most women look like they attended the auditions for the popular eighties series the Golden Girls. Age there is 40+. This place makes Hofman look like kindergarten.

On Thursday the legendary place is the Africa Bar. This starts with life music around midnight which lasts until 01:30 am. Than the DJ takes over and the place really starts jumping. This is a pick-up place where mostly foreigners pick up local ladies. Friday being a workday means I haven't been there that much. I did last night with a bunch of colleagues after my farewell drinks at Mundo's.

Mundo's is the sportsbar here and right next to my hotel (photo by Astrid). It is where you watch a game, eat the best pizza in town and have a few alcoholic starters before hitting the real night life. It is also the only place where you'll find a reasonable lot of people on the weekdays.

On Sundays people hang out at Nucleo do Arte. It's more or less a house with a small art gallery, a small bar and an even smaller stage. It's actually not really a stage, but a 4 square meter space in between de window and the couch. I've seen bands with 5 members play there! The crowd is very artsy and studenty, with local boys with dreadlocks (which of course play some sort of drums) hitting on impressionable young white (mostly American) women wearing African wrap around dresses. You know the kind. "In touch with the local people"....

Then there is the live joint called Gil Vicente, which is right next to our bank. I already wrote extensively about that place back in July in an entry names 'Bourbon Street?'. Other party places include Sheik, Havana, Xima and Macaneta, but I have not frequented these. These are mostly places which play local danceable music in the style of Merengue and Salsa. Even though I am from the Caribbean, it is not really my thing.

Oh well, time for me to hit the night life. I'll start at Mundo's and then probably head off to Lounge. Given that the sun comes up quite early here, it'll be dawn by the time I get back to the hotel. Enjoy your evening. I know I will mine!

Crash!

We interrupt this fascinating debate between Oprahbama and Billary on the subject of "Who's Johnny?" to bring you some breaking news.

This just in! According to our normally quite reliable sources there was a major accident which occured last Saturday morning. In the very early morning. Or was it very late Friday night?

Witnesses on the scene saw the white male victim flee the scene of the accident. He was described as tall, bald, extremely handsome with a great body! If you see this man, and you are a cute funny intelligent single woman, please call him!

According to a police report the incident occured when this subject entered a cab at the infamous Coconuts. The cab was randomly picked from a bunch of screaming, begging, pulling and pushing cab drivers. A bit like the middle-aged women in the front row of a Tom Jones concert.

The victim - not suspecting anything - got in the car and instructed the cabbie to take him to his hotel. The driver obeyed and took off. As he was speeding up on the Marginal (a long straight road along the coast line), the passenger relaxed and looked around him as if he longed for yet another drink.

All of sudden it happened! Loud screetching tires and as the white male was launched forward he grabbed the seat in front of him and looked up at what was going on. His cab was still on the road, trying to brake as a red pickup truck came out of nowhere and crossed the street in the direction of the beach.

Where this truck came from and why it was heading that way is still a mistery. Maybe he lost control, fell asleep or was doing some midnight off road racing in the bushes...

Whatever! The taxi could not stop in time and hit this truck hard on the side. The cab passenger saw the hood of the car double up right in front of him as at the same time a car - coming from behind too fast to stop or avoid the scene - hit the taxi right behind the victims seat. This set the taxi off in a 270 degree spin.

Finally when all the dust was settled, the passenger checked himself and noticed that he was okay. The cab driver was a less pretty sight as he was bleeding like crazy from his forehead. Must've hit the steering wheel. However, he acknowledged that otherwise he felt fine.

Both got out of the car and so did the drivers of the other two vehicles involved in the crash. Our hero (the passenger) looked at the taxi and only now realised that he had been really lucky. Really really lucky! The engine block was diminished to half its size. That cab had had its last passenger. The official legal term being "total loss".

The red pickup driver was fine (of course! He had the truck) and so was the guy that hit the cab from behind. This last guy was furious! He was screaming and shouting at the pickup driver saying he would call the police. Funny thing of course is, that since he hit the taxi from behind, he is responsible for his own collision. Should've kept his distance.

The truck driver was very appologetic towards the cabbie and suggested to 'arrange' everything without police intervention. The furious guy got even more angry and in the meanwhile a curious crowd was gathering around.

This is when our male subject (yes, the handsome one!) decided that it was too late (04:30 am), too dark, too crowdy and he was way too visible to hang around much longer. He checked his vitals one more time and walked away from the crime scene.

The taxi guy got nervous and followed him saying that he couldn't leave as he was required to act as a witness. A witness to what? To testify that he was dozing off in the back before being rudely awaken by a car crash? (and that is a rude awakening, I can assure you).

He decided not to hang around waiting for possibly 2 hours before police had done all they needed to do, just to provide a statement which wouldn't be helpful at all. The physical evidence was more than obvious.

5 minutes later he was last seen speeding away in yet another cab. Destination unknown....

PS: Oh well, that was one adventure I do not necessarily need to experience again. Yes, I got really lucky, considering the damage, the way it could've ended up and the fact that I was in the back without seat belt. Before you start, most cars do not have seat belts in the back and most front belts don't function either... All in all, everything is fine. Not even some neck muscle pains. I even slept like a baby.

Guess Who's Back!

Oh boy, back in Maputo after having spent 5 days in Holland, 2 weeks in Curaçao and another 4 days in Holland over the holiday period. Well, the last post was on Cape Town and quite a bit happened since then.

The 2 weeks after Cape Town were mostly focused on preparing to move office. I spent enormous amounts of time preparing the infrastructure before the move and actually preparing the building. Nothing happens here as planned. Absolutely nothing! You kind of know this, especially after being here a while, but you haven't seen it all until you've seen and managed construction in this city.

These workers are the funniest There's absolutely no thinking about consequences of actions. The electricians just cut off the electricity in the middle of the day, just when everybody is working on things which require electricity. "Oh, we're just testing the generator". Anyone ever consider checking if people were working?

Or the guys that took out the ceiling of the toilets without bothering to check if anyone was in there. Ever seen a terrified woman rush out the toilet with her pants on her ankles? I have now...

And everybody you call to fix or install something for some reason always has to come first to look at everything before even considering actually doing the job. That requires another appointment which they won't keep anyway. You cannot imagine how many calls and appointment I made with the cable company just to terminate the cable. for you non-techies out there, that is putting the plug on the end of the cable.

Oh well, you get used to things I guess. Well, not really. I do not get used to it, but do take it into account when planning. Call it: environmental influences.

Curaçao was great! The main reason for me to go there was my cousin Julian's wedding. And since he got married on the 22nd (coincidently my dads b-day), I added Xmas and New years to the menu. I never regretted that!

The wedding was beautiful. Actually, don't they always say that? Like funerals. People always say: the service was beautiful. I'm waiting for the first to say: that funeral was horrible! The speeches were off topic, the coffee lame, the cake tasted like dirt, the DJ sucked and the host was quite...ehhh....stiff! How funny would that be?

Oh well, the wedding service was nice and the bride looked like she would never stop smiling. My main 'role' was taking pictures and I took many. Most of these can be seen on this website.

After the wedding it was time to party. And the island can party! Especially with New Years! A typical thing unique for Curaçao is what we call Pagara Parties. A pagara party is usually organised by a company (bank, lawfirm, consultancy, supermarket, etc.) or a restaurant/bar and takes places on their parking lot and the street in front of it.

Usually there is a band and a DJ that warms up the crowd and there lots of booze. And everyone can attend. These parties are often advertised on radio and newspapers. You party for about one to two hours and then the host starts the fireworks show. If the party is during the day, the fireworks would be one really long 'carpet' of klapchi (the exploding noisy stuff). The longer your carpet, the more impressed everyone is. People can refer to your record breaking carpet in admiration for years afterwards.

If it is at night, the show would like contain more sky-based fireworks. These pagara parties start about a full week before new years and the number of parties per day increase as new years comes closer. The last three days of a year you can spent completely drunk and deaf moving from party to party.

Two years ago I read in a Dutch newspaper that the same amount of fireworks is sold in Curaçao compared to Holland. The amazing part of this fact was that it referred to absolute numbers! 130.000 people buy the same amount as 16 million people with higher average incomes!!! Yes, it is a waste of money, bad for the environment, unfriendly towards pets, but it is sooooooooooo much fun!!! (PS: Picture of pagara is courtesy of Charlton)

After Curaçao and a bit of Holland is was time to go back to Maputo. And guess what? No, really! Guess! Yep, you are again right! I lost my suitcase!!! This time it was on my Johannesburg-Maputo flight. A simple one hour flight! I checked it in at 08:00 am at JBG airport and 90 minutes later the captain of my South African Airways flight announced that they lost 55 pieces of luggage and he was ordered to leave for Maputo anyway.

This time I got it back 24 hours later, but it had been forced open and all valuable items were taken out of it. Including my pocket camera and a brand new watch! I don't know what it is with this continent. I experienced over 400 flights and lost my suitcase only once! On a KLM flight from Amsterdam to Curaçao. I do 5 flights involving Africa and lose it 3 times!

I got only three letters for this: T.I.A.

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!!!