Maputo

It's been a while since I last had a blentry because I've been busy traveling and whatnot (and for those who have never whatnotted, it's a lot of fun). Instead of boring you with the details, I'll limit myself to a discussion of my four days in Mozambique.

I took a “bus” from “Johannesburg” to “Maputo” and this “bus” took “eight hours” to “reach” “Maputo.” Maputo, for those who don't know, is the capital of Mozambique, as well as home to the country's tallest building, a 33-story whopper whose name, when translated from Portuguese to English means “thirty-three.”

Now, Mozambique is much poorer than South Africa. Much. It was visible the second I crossed the border. Or, rather, as I walked towards the border. See, we had to deboard the bus, walk about half a kilometer, get our passport stamped by the one person working the border on the South African side, and then cross into the much poorer Mozambique and wait about 15 seconds until one of the eight agents on the Mozambique side was available to check my visa and stamp my passport, allowing me into the country. Of course, on the way back, I learned why there was only one person working the passport control: the other 2,000 or so agents were all checking every single bag that entered the country for contraband. We waited for over an hour coming back while they rifled through everything since, you know, there's a huge drug smuggling ring from Mozambique (actually, I bet there is, but I really had to use the toilet so waiting outside the bus for an hour in the cold was not fun).

Anyway, I got into Mozambique right around the time when the sun was setting, which is called “evening.” The weather was nice, yadda yadda. I walked three blocks to Base Backpackers and asked for a bed and what do you know, they had one bed available. For 220 meticais. Which, when converted to dollars, is about $7. So I booked for three nights.

That night, I realized that I had a Texas drivers license, had been to a French-speaking country (Canada), German-speaking country (Austria), and now Portuguese-speaking country (Mozambique), but never a Spanish-speking country (Hialeah doesn't have an official language).

There's a couple of things everyone should know about Maputo, so I'll tell you in my patented ten numbered list approach:

1. This is an eight-pronged thing, so I'll do it in my patented eight lettered list approach:
a. Every cop has an AK-47
b. You will listen to anything a cop yielding an AK-47 asks you to do
c. He will ask you for your passport
d. You will have your passport with you, because it is the law
i. Or you will bribe him to let you keep going
e. When he tells you something is wrong with your passport, you tell him to take you to the police station
f. He will tell you to keep moving, and leave you alone
g. You will then follow said cop at a distance, watch him walk by every black person until he comes across someone else with non-black skin, and he will ask that person for his or her passport
h. You will then be able to say you have been racially profiled

2. Even though most of the city is run down, there is a lot of very nice old Portuguese colonial architecture

3. “Obrigado” (or obrigada if you are of the fairer sex) means “Thank you” in Portuguese.

4. “No falla Portuguese” means “Don't talk to me in that language because I ain't gonna understand.”

5. Half the people are still bitter at Portugal for its oppressive and unwavering control over the land longer than any other country was willing to hold onto its African possessions (other than Spain, which still has cities on the Moroccan coast, but no one cares about Spain). The other half have forgiven Portugal and were sad to see them lose to Spain in the World Cup (or maybe they're like everyone else and still hate Portugal, just don't like Spain because no one likes Spain).

6. There's a big ex-pat population in Maputo, which means there's a night-life, which means there are people on the streets after dark, which means it's a lot different than Jo'Burg, where people don't go out at night unless they:
a. want to get mugged
b. want to mug

7. There will be rotting garbage on random sections of the pavement.

8. Rotting garbage smells very unpleasant.

9. You know how all Super Bowl championship gear for the losing team gets sent to Central American countries? Well, all relocated franchise gear gets sent to Mozambique. I saw seven different Charlotte Hornets items in Maputo, as well as two Los Angeles Raiders jackets. I also saw an Oakland Raiders jacket, which makes me thing that that's probably from when they first moved in the 1980s. Or maybe Maputans are just bitter that their beloved Hornets left Charlotte for New Orleans, Oklahoma City, New Orleans/Oklahoma City, and finally New Orleans. Speaking of which, they like basketball in Mozambique.

10. If you pick a random street block during the hours between 8am and 8pm and walk slowly down the block, you will hear at least 16,323 people scream “MY FRIEND!' at you, 14,808 run after you, with 13,770 of those trying to sell you a Mozambique phone sim card, and the rest trying to sell you some random piece of woodwork they claim they made. All 16,323 will then say “I give you good price.” You'll say “I already have” and wave them off, and 16,299 of them will then repeat “I give you good price.” The other 24 will find another white person to say “MY FRIEND!” to.

All-in-all, Maputo was quaint, which makes it the first person, place, or thing I have ever called quaint. The museum of natural history holds the Guiness World Record for largest collection of Elephant Feti (or is it fetuses?). Now, now, I'm not sure that they actually hold that record, but find me another museum that has 14 80-year old elephant feti ranging in size from one month to 22 months (it takes 24 months from conception to birth of an elephant) and then we'll talk.

I'd like to have gone up north to Tofo beach, which is supposedly nice, but I did not have time. I'll have to return to Mozambique some day. I still have 1300 meticais to dispose of, and banks in Cape Town won't buy meticais.

Speaking of which, I'm now in Cape Town. But Cape Town is for next blentry.

Yours truly,
The Ambassador