Remember That Time In Mozambique When It Rained?

Mozambique is where vacations go to die… at least if you are an O’Neil. But I am getting ahead of myself a bit. Our vacation didn’t start off in shambles.

My brother Tom finally left America for the first time in his life to come and visit his sister in a faraway land called Africa. He left the cold and snow of northern Michigan to join me in the dead of summer in South Africa, to spend 25 days aimlessly wandering around. Somehow, Tom managed to get into a car accident on the way to the airport and miss his flight to Johannesburg, and yet somehow he still managed to make it over the big blue ocean and to Durban, where our travels began.

Now the start of the vacation was typical, with a busy itinerary of activities that anyone visiting southern Africa should partake in. My brother saw the Indian Ocean for the first time, went on a safari in a game reserve where he saw all the significant animals that one should see (except cats), took a proper ghetto taxi around Durban, one of SA’s biggest cities, went to a craft market filled with traditional South African goods that were probably made in China, and went on a hippo and croc boat tour that brought us within feet of the friendly creatures. All in all, the start of the vacation went well and it seemed like Tom was enjoying himself in Africa. I certainly didn’t have many complaints. I got to spend my Christmas day on the beach, working on a sweet tan. No snow or Christmas tree or presents for this Michigan girl. It was great!

Then three days after Christmas, early in the morning, the five of us traveling together decided to board a bus to Maputo, Mozambique. I personally was excited to get out of SA, see another country in the world, and spend even more time on some beautiful beaches. The bus ride went off without a hitch, and we made it to Maputo around 6 in the evening. It was raining, which was a concern since we were supposed to camp, but we were in Mozambique and that somehow made things better. Now if any of us had been smart and looked at the signs that were all around us as soon as we got off the bus, we would have all been better prepared for the ‘fun’ that was about to begin. The hostel that was supposed to pick us up (for free!) forgot about us and none of us had cell phones that worked. After sitting around for a bit, the woman who worked at the bus company borrowed us her phone so we could call and find out what happened to our ride. 30 minutes later, a car finally showed up (after the woman called the hostel back about 2 times) and took us to Fatima’s, our home away from… well, South Africa. The hostel was packed as everyone flocks to Moz for the holiday. By this time it was getting dark and raining harder, and we still had to set out tents up. Luckily for us, we were camping on the cement roof of the building, totally exposed to the elements and with puddles of water surrounding us since there was nowhere for it to go. We all felt a little broken down, but seeing as how we had no choice, we set up shop, cooked some dinner, bought some expensive beers, and then braved the rain one last time to climb into our soaked tents.

The next morning we woke up to more rain, which was a bit distressing. In addition to the weather not cooperating, the hostel sucked horribly. The bathrooms were disgusting and the toilets magically didn’t flush. It was worse than my pit toilet in my village, which is saying a lot. The staff at the hostel was less than helpful, not telling us of a single entertaining thing to do in Maputo and giving us no help with directions. Fed up, we left in search of food, sights, and money.

I must admit that that day we spent wandering around Maputo was one of the worst days of the whole vacation. We walked for what seemed like forever, the rain stopped but in its place came humidity so think it felt like I was dying, and once we had seen the three sights that a travel book recommended, we were out of things to do to entertain us. I couldn’t wait to get out of the city and back to the beach. That evening, we decided to upgrade and move into a dorm. We packed up our wet tents, paid (or should I say overpaid) for the shuttle the next day to Tofo, and called it a night.

Bright and early the next morning we boarded the shuttle bus to Fatima’s in Tofo. The bus, which was very expensive, was so packed full of people that is was miserable. Tom had to sit in a seat where he couldn’t lean back and where he had a person essentially wedged in between his legs. My seat was better, although I too had a person sitting in my lap. It was very hot, the aircon didn’t work, and for some reason, the people sitting by the windows (which were of course not us) decided to keep their windows closed. I sat there, sweating in my dress, wishing the miserable trip was over. Unfortunately, it had just started and we had 7+ hours left. Luckily we had a driver from hell that put the pedal to the metal and, risking all of our lives, got us to Tofo in a decent amount time. We only had to stop for a blown out tire once and for airtime for the drive about 10 times!

Once in Tofo, we set up camp next to the hundreds of other campers in the designated camping area that this time was on sand. I must admit that the next couple of days that we spent in Tofo were not all that bad. It was hot and sticky, and it rained all of New Years Eve, but the place was better, the ocean was amazing, and all in all things were ok. Not great, but not horrible. The only problem was that all of our clothes were wet and the constant rain every night never allowed anything to dry. Around this time, my clothes started to get moldy.

The morning we were planning on leaving Tofo to head even further north, it was raining- again! We still had to pack our tents up and by this point the 5 of us were so fed up with the rain that we considered just going back to Maputo so we could leave Moz forever. After some arguing, however, we decided to give it a shot and work our way north. The rain let up, so we moved quickly and managed to catch a bus from Tofo to Inhambane. In Inhambane we got directions to take a dhow across the bay to Maxixe. From there, we made the decision (a very poor one we later found out) to take a taxi from Maxixe to Vilankulo, our destination. After waiting for about an hour to fill, and after no more people could be squished in, we left. After about 30 minutes of driving, it started to rain again (surprise, surprise) and the road turned into complete shit. The potholes made it impossible to drive, but somehow our taxi driver was unfazed and carried on at an impressive 120km/hour clip. So it was raining, he was driving too fast, swerving from side to side and almost flipping us, and there we were, crammed in the taxi that leaked. Jeff, one of the lucky five of us, was fortunate enough to have a Mozambican puke on him in the taxi. That, for me, was a first.

When we finally made it to Vilankulo, it was still raining and we had yet to walk to our hostel. A small local boy came up and offered to guide us to our destination, which we gladly accepted. Once there, we opted for beds in a dorm, seeing as how all of us were so SICK of camping in the rain that we needed a much deserved break. Now Vilankulo is known for the islands that are just off the shore, and when the weather is nice, you can take boats out to the islands and explore. Of course for the 3 days that we were there, it never stopped raining long enough for us to make it out to the islands. Instead, we sat around under whatever covering we could get and chatted, read, or acted bored out of our minds. During the short periods of time that the rain let up, we walked to the market to buy food or walked along the beach (which wasn’t really meant for swimming but was filled with fishing boats). Some of the people that stayed at the hostel were cool, and their company helped brighten the days. At night, the rain would stop, so one night we went to a bar in town and another night was spent sitting on the beach in an impromptu drum circle. The days we spent in Vilankulo were probably the most relaxing, but were still a disappointment.

After 3 days of rain, the 5 of us finally gave up and decided to head back to Maputo early so we could get the hell out of Moz. We took yet another horrible bus ride to Maptuo, where I again sweated off my weight in water. Once in Maputo, we headed back to the same horrible hostel and planned for our evacuation of Moz. But of course, the busses back to SA were full and we would have to spend one more entire day in the country that had broken our spirits. Determined to make the best of it, we decided to switch hostels and spend some more time exploring the city. If I am going to be honest, this extra day that none of us wanted turned out to be a good thing. The weather was better, the new hostel was nicer, and the time we had gave us a chance to change our opinions of Maputo. I still don’t love the city, but I do have a new appreciation for it.

Finally, the morning came where we could go back to SA. We parted ways at this point and 4 of us went back to Durban and 1 went to Jo’burg. Excited for the bus ride and the aircon, we gladly boarded the bus and were on our way. We should have known that this wouldn’t be as nice as we had hoped. About 2 hours into our trip, the aircon stopped working and this bus didn’t even have windows that can open. Again, we were melting on the bus and could do nothing but suffer through the 8 hour ride back to SA. It was quite a fitting end to the Moz debacle!

The time I spent in Moz definitely gave me a whole new appreciation for South Africa. I don’t think I can express how happy I was to finally make it back to Durban and back to a country that felt comfortable and friendly to me. We were all exhausted and disappointed, and I am positive that my brother never wants to travel in a developing country again. But we had made it in and out of Moz in one piece, and we now knew what amazing things we had available to us in SA.