We're coming down to our last few days in the 'bique. Very odd indeed. We've been here for over a week, and it's pretty comfortable, for the most part. However, there's stuff that's just so frustrating and difficult about being here, it's going to be a nice transition through SA to NYC. I find it really hard that there is such a divide between tourist and local, particularly between white and black. There are exceptions, but it's wearing - the lack of trust between the two, the sheer gulf due to poverty and education, the desperation and resentment that is felt. It's the most wonderful place, and I love it, but when you come here, you have to be prepared for that experience (or maybe not, if you stay in the chichi places where you don't see anything out of the ordinary, just a hotel with a pool and a bar and a great view of the beach); when you move here, there really has to be a conscious decision as to whether to embrace it or not. Luckily we don't have to go through that.
I will miss this water, though. Despite the barracudas!
Showing posts with label mozambique. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mozambique. Show all posts
Friday, August 29, 2008
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Hypochondria
We've had a couple of bouts of it recently. After my last post, we both got extremely nervous about the bends, and it took a lot of breathing calming and telling off from our divemaster to get us back into a normal place. Now, I have an achy back, my stomach's felt weird all day, and it's super super hot, so I am, of course, convinced I have a fever that I have one of any number of horrible diseases (described to us in detail by our new friends, a pair of nurses (German and Swiss). Honestly, medical people sometimes are the least reassuring. Everyone goes on about informed consent but I would so often just not be treated as an intelligent adult but given the bare minimum. I don't want to know about other complications. Really. Because then it leads to this sort of stuff.
This bout is also clearly brought on by the prospect of a night dive tonight. I am manufacturing all sorts of symptoms so that I don't have to do it, even though I keep telling both myself and everyone else that I'm desperately excited to be doing it.
It's also the first day where the sheer shimmering of the heat has really, really, really got to me. It was scorching this morning, and hasn't calmed down at all, not once, all day. The shade here is genuinely wonderful - you are automatically so much cooler, it's a wondrous thing. But being indoors is not fun, nor are mosquito nets, despite their glorious efficacy (which is why my malaria paranoia is, if not ridiculous, on the paranoid side - I'd have to be pretty fricking unlucky to get it from a mere four bites in the time we've been away).
Still, time waits for no man, nor woman, and it turns out we have to be at the dive shop in ten minutes. Oops. So I guess the hour is upon us and there's no going back.
Ulp.
This bout is also clearly brought on by the prospect of a night dive tonight. I am manufacturing all sorts of symptoms so that I don't have to do it, even though I keep telling both myself and everyone else that I'm desperately excited to be doing it.
It's also the first day where the sheer shimmering of the heat has really, really, really got to me. It was scorching this morning, and hasn't calmed down at all, not once, all day. The shade here is genuinely wonderful - you are automatically so much cooler, it's a wondrous thing. But being indoors is not fun, nor are mosquito nets, despite their glorious efficacy (which is why my malaria paranoia is, if not ridiculous, on the paranoid side - I'd have to be pretty fricking unlucky to get it from a mere four bites in the time we've been away).
Still, time waits for no man, nor woman, and it turns out we have to be at the dive shop in ten minutes. Oops. So I guess the hour is upon us and there's no going back.
Ulp.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
The words are coming out all weird
Day eight in Wimbi, much like those proceeding it and undoubtedly subsequent ones. Except today we thought we spotted dolphins as we headed out for our dive; we took some fabulous photos, and some dreadful ones, too. We've convinced ourselves we may have the bends; my calf is all weird, slightly dizzy, but I think that's low blood sugar after one too many last night. NEVER dive hungover - you use up far too much air, and get utterly paranoid about decompression sickness.
The sky is clear, the sun is shining, and for the second time in a few days we are losing friends to other parts of the continent. We've had a wonderful experience getting to know people in the past week, which we shunned, to be honest, the first couple of weeks. In contrast we've barely met any locals; the language barrier makes a massive difference here, as we just can't converse. We're trying a bit more Portuguese, but the sounds are so unfamiliar, it's difficult to make them come out, particularly when Spanish sounds are what I reach for first.
It's a strange place, this one. It's utterly, utterly beautiful - you would not believe how clear the water is - much more so than that stuff coming out of NYC's taps. The sand is white, not too fine or silty. You can swim in the morning and evening, right by our lodgings. People here are incredibly enthusiastic about it, but still can't quite believe you've heard or it, or why you're here. Ex-pats all stick together, certainly. It's nice to overcome some stereotypes they hold - they insist you shouldn't hitch a ride with black Africans "because they'll charge you" - not so the very kind gentleman from Maputo who gave us a lift into Pemba this afternoon. They also all insist on the incredible danger of the roads, and drive home drunk, without seatbelts. It's... astonishing. I've not seen a single white person wear a seatbelt.
It's been so interesting to be here, surrounded by them, while reading a most remarkable book - The Grass Is Singing by Doris Lessing. Absolutely astonishing, particularly as it was her first book. I was planning to read it while on the train between Joburg and Cape Town, but suddenly felt the impulse to read it, and am so glad I did - it is horrible, but captures something really powerful about race and power relations, while being incredibly directly written - not at all flowery or ornate, but clear prose. It particularly stands in contrast to my first reading of To The Lighthouse, which I was a tad disappointed in, I must confess; there was simply no space to breathe, no respite from the sentences piling on top of each other, or so it felt to me. Where she was describing things, rather than thoughts, I loved it; otherwise, I was not so keen. I also read Call Me By Your Name, by Aciman - one of Adela's favourites, and it was also wonderful. So this holiday really has been full of great reads. Anyway, my point was - lots of the language and attitudes of people really are on the same continuum as the horrors written in this book. It accurately captures something about white Africans, from my observations, even if they are not at the extremes of the attitudes in the book. But it also has wider implications, commonality, about gender and society and marriage. Fantastic. Ms Scutts got it for me, so a big fat public thanks for that!
Time to dash. Not that anyone dashes anywhere here. It's gloriously slow-paced - sometimes it's infuriating, but most of the time, refreshing, particularly as we really have nothing to do. Cape Town will definitely be more active, so we should enjoy it while it lasts...
The sky is clear, the sun is shining, and for the second time in a few days we are losing friends to other parts of the continent. We've had a wonderful experience getting to know people in the past week, which we shunned, to be honest, the first couple of weeks. In contrast we've barely met any locals; the language barrier makes a massive difference here, as we just can't converse. We're trying a bit more Portuguese, but the sounds are so unfamiliar, it's difficult to make them come out, particularly when Spanish sounds are what I reach for first.
It's a strange place, this one. It's utterly, utterly beautiful - you would not believe how clear the water is - much more so than that stuff coming out of NYC's taps. The sand is white, not too fine or silty. You can swim in the morning and evening, right by our lodgings. People here are incredibly enthusiastic about it, but still can't quite believe you've heard or it, or why you're here. Ex-pats all stick together, certainly. It's nice to overcome some stereotypes they hold - they insist you shouldn't hitch a ride with black Africans "because they'll charge you" - not so the very kind gentleman from Maputo who gave us a lift into Pemba this afternoon. They also all insist on the incredible danger of the roads, and drive home drunk, without seatbelts. It's... astonishing. I've not seen a single white person wear a seatbelt.
It's been so interesting to be here, surrounded by them, while reading a most remarkable book - The Grass Is Singing by Doris Lessing. Absolutely astonishing, particularly as it was her first book. I was planning to read it while on the train between Joburg and Cape Town, but suddenly felt the impulse to read it, and am so glad I did - it is horrible, but captures something really powerful about race and power relations, while being incredibly directly written - not at all flowery or ornate, but clear prose. It particularly stands in contrast to my first reading of To The Lighthouse, which I was a tad disappointed in, I must confess; there was simply no space to breathe, no respite from the sentences piling on top of each other, or so it felt to me. Where she was describing things, rather than thoughts, I loved it; otherwise, I was not so keen. I also read Call Me By Your Name, by Aciman - one of Adela's favourites, and it was also wonderful. So this holiday really has been full of great reads. Anyway, my point was - lots of the language and attitudes of people really are on the same continuum as the horrors written in this book. It accurately captures something about white Africans, from my observations, even if they are not at the extremes of the attitudes in the book. But it also has wider implications, commonality, about gender and society and marriage. Fantastic. Ms Scutts got it for me, so a big fat public thanks for that!
Time to dash. Not that anyone dashes anywhere here. It's gloriously slow-paced - sometimes it's infuriating, but most of the time, refreshing, particularly as we really have nothing to do. Cape Town will definitely be more active, so we should enjoy it while it lasts...
Friday, August 22, 2008
Yes it's true
I am happy to be stuck with you. Well, in a way.
We were relying on somehow making our way down the Mozambican coast, not really thinking of the massive distances involved, and forgot that everyone here would do it that way - it's just too far to drive to South Africa, for example, or Dar. Dammit. So we're here longer than planned, until the 1st of September, and we may not even make it successfully onto a plane then - LAM, our airline, is not the most reliable for confirmed, definite flights, with various people we have met having been bumped from their flights. Ulp. Still, we'll see.
It's gloriously beautiful here, but definitely much more basic and undeveloped in comparison to Zanzibar or Arusha. Running water is a luxury here, and there are few budgetary options for the traveller. But it really is remarkable - blue blue sea, good diving (and cheaper than Tanzania), white beaches. The language provides a weird barrier between locals and tourists, but I love it and hope to get some mais portugues in the next ten days or so. I just hope we haven't run out of books and manage to find somewhere to clean our clothes in that time, or else people are going to be very unhappy with us... believe me. We're... ripe.
Still, back home for lunch and then swimming then shower and maybe the one-dayer between South Africa and England (and hope we don't get thrashed - surrounded by South Africans - still can use Olympics as a taunt, definitely). Then beers, reading and bed. It's a tough life.
We were relying on somehow making our way down the Mozambican coast, not really thinking of the massive distances involved, and forgot that everyone here would do it that way - it's just too far to drive to South Africa, for example, or Dar. Dammit. So we're here longer than planned, until the 1st of September, and we may not even make it successfully onto a plane then - LAM, our airline, is not the most reliable for confirmed, definite flights, with various people we have met having been bumped from their flights. Ulp. Still, we'll see.
It's gloriously beautiful here, but definitely much more basic and undeveloped in comparison to Zanzibar or Arusha. Running water is a luxury here, and there are few budgetary options for the traveller. But it really is remarkable - blue blue sea, good diving (and cheaper than Tanzania), white beaches. The language provides a weird barrier between locals and tourists, but I love it and hope to get some mais portugues in the next ten days or so. I just hope we haven't run out of books and manage to find somewhere to clean our clothes in that time, or else people are going to be very unhappy with us... believe me. We're... ripe.
Still, back home for lunch and then swimming then shower and maybe the one-dayer between South Africa and England (and hope we don't get thrashed - surrounded by South Africans - still can use Olympics as a taunt, definitely). Then beers, reading and bed. It's a tough life.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Camp
Last night, for the first time since I don't know when - I was probably barely in double digits - I pitched a tent. And, even, slept in it.
It was not the most comfortable of places to rest. I couldn't get my pillow - my handluggage - quite right, and even I don't fit in the tent fully, so poor old TC who is considerably taller than me had even more of a struggle. It was also boiling, the mosquito net and tent combining to suffocate us with warmth, plus we were completely and utterly surrounded by our luggage.
Still, parts of me liked it. It felt genuinely outside - in Jambiani, we could hear the sea, but somehow this, and the whistling and tooting of various birds, felt closer to nature. I was also proud of us for managing this - it's not something that comes naturally to either of us, as the real draw is not the inherent charms of camping, but its cheapness (compare - the hotel from which I am posting this costs $140 per night - camping is about $6.50 per person - in fact, for an hour's internet you pay nearly the same price).
So, we are in Wimbi, Mozambique - we've not yet hit the beach, but the sea looks wonderful - I could see it from our table this morning at breakfast, and am itching to do a bit of swimming. Not to try the bucket showers afterwards, though... there's a reason for the price differential. But last night we ate great food at the buffet, watched bits of the Olympics for the first time - the trampolining was amazing! I can take this, for a while. It feels like we've been up for hours, as it gets fully light by about 5.30 in the morning - it's an hour behind Tanzania, but we're still so far north that the weather and sunset/sunrise times are basically the same. There's a constant light breeze and the bay is beautiful. Not sure about the language - it's going to be troublesome, I can tell, but we'll manage for a couple of weeks, I reckon. But there will NOT be any photos - my trusty old camera (not that trusty - it was actually a temperamental bugger) died a couple of days ago. So I'll do my best to capture it in my memory and describe it to you - and use TC's camera, but that means none until we get back to decent internet.
Must dash - waves & rays to catch today. And more diving tomorrow - hooray. Feel much better about this operator already.
It was not the most comfortable of places to rest. I couldn't get my pillow - my handluggage - quite right, and even I don't fit in the tent fully, so poor old TC who is considerably taller than me had even more of a struggle. It was also boiling, the mosquito net and tent combining to suffocate us with warmth, plus we were completely and utterly surrounded by our luggage.
Still, parts of me liked it. It felt genuinely outside - in Jambiani, we could hear the sea, but somehow this, and the whistling and tooting of various birds, felt closer to nature. I was also proud of us for managing this - it's not something that comes naturally to either of us, as the real draw is not the inherent charms of camping, but its cheapness (compare - the hotel from which I am posting this costs $140 per night - camping is about $6.50 per person - in fact, for an hour's internet you pay nearly the same price).
So, we are in Wimbi, Mozambique - we've not yet hit the beach, but the sea looks wonderful - I could see it from our table this morning at breakfast, and am itching to do a bit of swimming. Not to try the bucket showers afterwards, though... there's a reason for the price differential. But last night we ate great food at the buffet, watched bits of the Olympics for the first time - the trampolining was amazing! I can take this, for a while. It feels like we've been up for hours, as it gets fully light by about 5.30 in the morning - it's an hour behind Tanzania, but we're still so far north that the weather and sunset/sunrise times are basically the same. There's a constant light breeze and the bay is beautiful. Not sure about the language - it's going to be troublesome, I can tell, but we'll manage for a couple of weeks, I reckon. But there will NOT be any photos - my trusty old camera (not that trusty - it was actually a temperamental bugger) died a couple of days ago. So I'll do my best to capture it in my memory and describe it to you - and use TC's camera, but that means none until we get back to decent internet.
Must dash - waves & rays to catch today. And more diving tomorrow - hooray. Feel much better about this operator already.
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