Why is it that updating one's blog or diary barely happens after a certain amount of time.
In fact, if I'm completely honest, since I've been in Korea, not much recording of events has happened in general. Whilst ordinarily this would not be a problem, due to one's handy memory bank, mine may have experienced some dodgy ransactions with the local brew. As such, the advent of digital cameras is another wonderful recording device...if, of course, it works!

My digital escaped in the east have been many...many unneccesary one way arguments with cellphones and software, cameras and ATMs. And there are times when one wonders if such advents are actually beneficial and make life simpler?
I don't yet know...but I still want more!

THE CAMERA

When travelling through Mozambique my trusty Samsung camera became untrustworthy and broke. But since time was short and the purse strings tight, I worried not about purchasing another in South Africa, instead I would get a new one or fix Trusty when arriving in the HOME of Samsung - South Korea. This way it wouldn't cost much either. Surely.

So I waited for the money to start coming in before buying a new little Samsung. I was very happy with in, but thought it smarter to have my other fixed while I was here. So, I trotted down to the local department store and they shipped it off to Samsung for me. 2 weeks later and a conversation with a Korean repair man (explaining in full detail what had been done to said camera in Korean - I understood blissful nothing) I returned to the department store where a very hefty repair bill was given to me. It seems things that leave Korea are not welcomed back. The repair work cost nearly the same as the new camera. Typical, but worth it. Trusty is a goodie!
However, during shipping another fault had occured and needed to be returned to the department store then to Samsung to be repaired. Eventually all was well with Truty and I finally being reunited and happy once again.
The new addition was sent home as a well deserved gift for the parents (and a hefty push into the digital age from yours truely!)

But since Trusty and I were having so much fun together, an offer I couldnt refuse brought another little Nikon into the family. This would also give me an oppportunity to test out the brand before investing in the DSLR. Life was peachy. In fact, potantially excessive with 2 cameras, but the situation worked wonderfully.
Although, it seems that 2's company and 3's a crowd. And so, sometime in transit (inside a carry case and handbag) Nikki's screen was smashed.
It is still in use (minus the LCD) but its a simple point and click since there is no way of changing the settings. So it will be back to the department store to have this little camera fixed. I'm not sure if I will be happy paying loads for this one - I bought it second hand and it was a great deal but not for long...
(not sure if I'm going to run off and get that DSLR anytime soon!)

CLOTHES

I've never been overly particular about fashion. I'm not oblivious but not a slave either. But what happens when you come to Korea?
You discover that no clothing or shoes will fit you.

No problem.

I brought plenty of clothes with me and...er, hang on...the summers are hotter and far more humid, the autumn season is much wetter and as winter approaches - its going to be much colder!

I have had shoes shipped to me (which innitially didn't help as my feet were so swollen from the humidity!) I rushed out to the local department store to buy a giant puffer jacket on the first cold day and I have built a great relationship with my tailor - who has already had to repair a few items of clothing.
Preservation is key!

Life was good. I was simply dressed and reasonably appropriate for any occasion. Then I was robbed!

Yes, the safe haven that is South Korea is also the home to a pathetic person in my big brown hoodie.

My apartment is very average. It is small and recieves little sunlight. As a result, my washing hangs longer than most. My apartment has a separate washing and drying area behind glass doors, so things remain out of the way and nicely private. I am also on the first floor. Nonetheless, someone decided to climb up, slide my windows open, stick their hands through the (previously thought of as being unneccesary) burglar bars, and take 2 hoodies.
How kind.

So, not only was I struggling with finding new clothes, I now am running short on my old clothes!
Fun fun fun!

I Get Around

round...round...round...I get around

Public transportation in Korea is easy. It is comfortable. It is efficient. It is reasonably priced. It reliable and it is well organised. Why then has it given me a few headaches? Could the problem possibly be me?

Surely not...


The first of my Korean bus rides was on teh very day that I arrived. The Airport limosine - which is just a fancy name for a bus. Having said this, considering it is a bus, I was very impressed. Reclining seats, lots of leg room and porters! I missed the first bus, trying to work out which ticket I needed, how much it cost ("why does the currency involve spending high denominations - this is scary!") and where I actually have to catch it. Yes, there are english signs. However, these are difficult to spot. Or at least were. It's very easy now.


I got to where I needed to be. Little to no waving and gesturing required. Soon I was ready to take on the subway. This is far easier. Work out where you are and where you need to go. Follow the coloured lines and *swish! you're there. Except I keep going in the wrong direction and having to catch the train back. Or I go down onto the incorrect platform. This involves either running back up, along and down some stairs or risking deportation by jumping over the railings! (okay, probably not, but since my gripe of the day is measly transport and my inability to grasp it, I am allowed to make it sound hardcore!)

For the most part the subway suits me fine. Excepting that it closes at midnight. The train does not go to the end of the line (thank you Travelling Willbury's.) Nope, it drops you off right where you are. This in essence is not a problem. The problem is trying to work out where exactly this is and how to get home!


Korea is home to a few varients of trains that travel across the country. There is the super fast KTX that shoots across at a high speed and a high price. There is also the 'slow train.' Wanting to see more of the Korean landscape, I opted for the slow train. However, it is not possible to book tickets online unless you are a citizen. Foreigners either buy at the station or at an agent. Being the thoughtful person that I am, I checked out the seating potential online and then arrived well before depature time. There were no seats left.


This does not mean that one cannot travel. Instead one qualifies for "standing seats." The only seating that happens with this substantially cheaper ride, is the floor. The area between carriages and the steps and doorways house many a traveller. It is hardly comfortable but completely bearble. It is quite a bonding experience. I did not know any of my travelling companions, but felt incredibly close to them. Literally.


Getting to Daegu was fine. I was quite proud of my unassisted venture south. he return trip howefer was not quite as calming.

For some reason I was running late and ended up having to 'catch' the train. My ticket said platform 4. But When I looked at the signs there was a platform 1, a platform 2, a platform 3 and a platform 5. Oh dear...

I quickly asked a Korean couple, who read the ticket and started to run with me, neither of us knowing where we were actually going, just knowing that we had to go fast. The couple were arguing with each other but no platform 4 could be found. Looking at teh time, the train should have left! We spotted the Seoul sign and I shouted a thank you (yes, one of the 3 korean words I am fluent in) and raced down the stairs.

A train

No time to see if it is correct.

Jump.

sit

think....


Is this the train? Do I care? Maybe I will see the other parts of Korea. I had no clue if I was going in the right direction. I was exhausted. But hopeful. Amazingly it was the correct train. For some bizarre reason it was running 5minutes late. I am grateful for it, although am still keen to see the other side of Korea.


This takes us back to the bus. The bus is cheap and easy, but the bus stops have very little english information. Numbers are easy - but only helpful if you know where the numbered bus goes!

This brings me to my adventure tonight. I was clever. Knowing where the express bus home leaves from, I thought I would ask tourist information how to get to that bus. In other words I planned to take two buses. This way I could stay out a little later on the Saturday in question, only make one transfer and not worry about being dropped off somewhere random. Or so I thought.

So much for tourist information...


I waited for the comfortable hour of 23:30. I then went to a taxi and asked where the Crown Hotel was. This, you see, is where my ingenious plan begins and my bus collects me. A lovely gentleman, fluent in english (always greatly appreciated) directed me precisely where I needed to be. So, I ventured off. New territory. New bus. It's late. I'm alone. I'm confident.


Bus 730 drives right by me as wait at the bus stop. Hmmm..."Perhaps this is not the bus stop." Still confident (since I now have confirmation that this is the correct route) I walk a few hundred meters further and find the correct bus stop. Its quiet and nearing midnight which is when some of the local buses stop. But there are otehr people waiting. No problem. Confidence level high. Even the empty buses driving past did not deter my great plan of avoiding the taxi and making it home alone from a new area.


Eventually, with one minute left until the new day ticks in, bus 730 arrives, just as tourist info said it would. Gangnam and bus home - here I come!


This bus was also full. Obviously many people have the same idea. It drove past a few familiar suburbs of Seoul. This must be part of the loop. I am impressed by my recollection of the area. Although, if memory serves this bus should be crossing a river soon. And the river should be on the other side. Hmmm...


It was only when the passengers were thinning and the bus seemed to be no where near the city lights, that I realised this is not going where it should be. Of course, no one speaks english and can redirect me, so I remain hopeful that the bus is simply turning around. Turning around....turning...turning....turning into a bus parking lot?

Oh dear.

I jumped off - last passenger of course and started to walk along the road, where ever this road may be. No clue! Some wierd industrial, back of beyond place where only the bus driver's cars are parked. No help there.


Why this particular taxi driver was in this paticular road, I do not know. As there was certainly no one else around. It must have been women's intuition. She was the first female taxi driver I have seen and the only taxi driver I saw for a good 10 minutes. Stupid tourist information people!

So this angel in a silver cab drove at the speed of bullet. I was fortunate enough to see the "Welcome to Seoul"

sign. Where on earth had I got to?

She spoke no english and it was debatable at one stage whether I would actually get to Gangnam. But I did. At the measley cost of $20. So much for my $1 bus ride.

The taxi takes me to Gangnam, where seemingly every other taxi in Seoul is. Three lanes of gridlock. 1am. Seoul central. How bizarre. I was dropped off right by my bus pickup! Yay!

Although, being 1am, will the bus still come?


Well, the good news is it did. I had a very comfy, airconditioned seat. And this, the final bus of the night, dropped me mere meters from my door step at 2am. Normal price.


I have never had a problem with direction. Yet I still keep walking across into traffic, forgetting they drive on the opposite side of the road. It is perhaps not a coincedence that the one and only time I drove ended in the car breaking down.


Maybe it makes sense then that I was given the smaller of the ATV quad bikes to ride (resulting in a personal mud festival.) Maybe it is suitable that when holidaying I took the mountain bike and not the scooter.


I maintain that I have a good sense of direction and am completely keen to travel, even if by trial and error. But perhaps, it is

I'm not a worrier...I'm a warrior!

Out and About

Korean Style

The first thing I have learnt about going out in Korea is that is rarely done by half measures. This makes life both exciting and tiring. I have had my latest nights here and some of the most memorable. I can hardly believe that I have been here for 3 months. The time has flown past based on the social atmosphere here and my perpetual issue of sleep - I sleep for as long as possible on all occassions. At least in Korea, the nights out more than make up for it.

Food

When eating out, it is generally always Korean food. When the week has been dominated by the same type of thing,dinner might consist of Chinese style rice or typical western home cooking or pizza. For the most part food is not particularly expensive here. Nights of raw tuna do get pricey (especially considering the food is not actually cooked) but eating out is affordable. Added to the general eating out mode is the issue of our apartments being fairly small and the amount of guests and friends is steadily mounting. And so, after a long evening on our feet, a group of teachers will probably find ourselves on the floor of a restaurant around midnight, enjoying Korean style food.

Another reason for going out regularly is the verall price of fresh produce. Fruit and veg is surprisingly expensive here. I struggle to bring myself to pay $1 for an apple.

Typically Korean food is served with side dishes. Saucer size bowls of various tastes - anything from a small salad, fruit, chilli crab, soup and the most famous of all Korean dishes - Kimchi!

Kimchi is ubiquitous. It is fermented cabbage which has been seasoned with all sorts of spices. I am personally not a fan but it is growing on me. The fantastic thing about all these side dishes is that they are refillable at most restaurants. And so, catching up on the fruit and veg actually happens at the restaurants! Korean food is spicey. I was in training before coming here but without even trying, my spice tolerance has increased ten fold. At least.

The cheapest foods are from noodle bars where you can get hearty meals of, you guessed it, noodles (and rice too!) Ironically, in this twisted cuisine world, the more expensive favourite is Korean barbeque. It is ironic simply because this you cook yourself. There is a gas or coal fire situated in the middle of the table. A grill, scissors, tongs and raw meat is provided. All sorts of side dishes adorn the table for wrapping the delicious cubes of meat before eating. Normally the meat is added to a lettuce leaf, a few spices - pepper, garlic, kimchi - and in it goes.

The Truth about Cats and Dogs

Dog, whale, cat and shark are all potential items on a Korean menu. I have yet to see this. It is culturally acceptable to eat any of these although not particularly common. Gaegogi literally means "dog meat." It is made from a specific breed of dog that differs from those breeds that are kept as pets. These dogs are bred on farms and considered the same as pigs or cows - which are also pets to some and yet eaten by others. The big issue with dog meat is there are no governing laws and so no slaughter regulations or preparation standards. There are with the likes of cows, pigs and sheep.

Shark fin soup is a status food and a Chinese delicacy. It is incredibly expensive due to the lack of availability but it is found. Most people eat it simple to say that they can afford it. It has become more popular for this reason.

Cat is also more of a Chinese dish than a Korean dish. Cats are sometimes boiled and made into a tonic as a folk remedy for neuralgia and arthritis in Korea, though the meat by itself is not customarily eaten.

Having said that, I am a fan of the food culture in Korea.

But fear not...

I don't support the idea of eating any of these specific foods, simply based on my lack of interest in eating family members. I will not be ordering a hot dog any time soon.

I have never seen such devoted pet owners as I have here. The most pampered animals (in m limited experience) are in Korea. People are besotted by their dogs and cats. Pets are blinged out in the latest fashions - jewellery, accessories and even hair styles. I even saw a woman putting running shoes on her cocker spaniel once.

The Night life

For the most part, my life is that of the night's. This is bassed on my work schedule and love of sleeping in late. Luckily, apart from the sun, most things here stay active through the night.

Even 7-11 is open later than 11pm. As a result the Family mart or corner shop is a favourite spot for evening drinks or a quick prematch. Tables and chairs are found along most Korean streets, welcoming you to have drinks. Alcohol is sold at all convenience stores. Convenient.

Night clubs are obviously expensive places to buy drinks. Clubs with cover charges give you a free drink. A great concept is that of buying bottles inside the club. The price is inflated but much cheaper than buying single drinks. Doing the conversion is not the best of ideas as night out end up costing a fortune.

street side drinks

The night clubs here are some of the best I've seen. The parties go on all night long. Ordinarily the crowd dwindles half way through the morning but since most people use public transport there is a single train of thought. Leave at midnight or keep going until the buses start again at 6am. Taxis are a fair price but far more expensive than the bus. Either way, getting home from a night out at 8am is no surprise. Amazingly, the quality of event does not dwindle.

The early hours of the morning might find us in a noodle bar, a noraebang (karioke) or eating a healthy mac donalds breakfast

The buffets have also been somewhat extreme here. Overindulgence is far too easy. For a slightly higher than average meal price, you can enjoy unlimited food and booze within the open hours. Trays of ingredients are taken to you table where one gets inventive with grilling all sorts of foods. Of course, a last dash to the bar is necessary when the last round is called. This resulted in filling cups with whatever was left out and having bottle pried from ones hands. tsk tsk.

The night club scene is dominated by hip hop. Regardless, we attended one amazing Paul Van Dyk gig on Walkerhill, the casino. He played for a staggering 4 hours. Playing all the classics as well as being able to mix up hard house with his more uplifting stuff. Fantastic night out! Got home around 8 am, to see the Korean kids going to school!

Koreans are not allowed to enter casinos. Surprising or perhaps suitable, since Koreans seem to bet on everything. At least Korean casinos feed you and provide drinks while taking your money. Why buy dinner when you can get it for free at a casino?

Life, out and about, Korean style can be all or nothing...a phrase to which I subscribe. Korea is clearly suitable!

Sleeping Around

One of the perks of working at a hagwon (an after-school, extra lessons academy) is that you only teach after school. Obviously, work would only start in the afternoon.
This sounded like a fabulous idea. I can enjoy my night life ad nauseum and sleep-in in the mornings. Wonderful!

Not being a morning person, the concept of this work was smashing. However, I am enjoying a typical South African schedule, rather than being 7 hours ahead. In other words, when I log in at work, most of my South African brethren are doing the same back home.

Most importantly, I can sleep in. Late.

On the other side, I can stay up. Late. Or early, depending on your view point. This blog, for instance, is being updated shortly before 7am on a Saturday. I did not have a particularly out of the ordinary Friday night. I am not on a wild sleep-deprived writing spree. This is normal.

I will wake up late tomorrow.

Half of my Saturday will be gone.

I have become a child of the night.

The most irritating thing, is that even when I have a slightly earlier night, I just cannot get out of bed unless there is a pressing matter (work, apointment or transport.) It is my vice and a serious problem.

The luxury of sleep is one that I over indulge in and will do so until the very last minute. The longer I can sleep, the better. Getting out of bed is an issue.

This has always been the case. I was one of the few children who couldn't be bothered with 7am cartoons. In the event that I really wanted to watch something, I would be accompanied by my duvet and pillow and would invariably pass out on the couch.

And so, this Korean experience is worsening my addiction. I love sleep. Sleep loves me. Korea is a great marriage of the two. It is simply a good thing that there is so much neon at night so as to mimmick day light and to further enhance my denial.

But today I attempt to start a fresh. I will start my day, when it is infact still day time. When the concept of morning is not used to refer the time I return home. Yes...I am on the road to recovery.

However, Not today. Its 7am and I'm going to bed!

People in Korea speak Korean.

Most of the people in Korea are Korean.

I am not Korean.

Surprise.

When I arrived, I did so armed only with a travel guide to fuel big dreams of travel plans. However, one can only read about Cambodia and Sri Lanka so many times in the space of a few days. I was craving media.

My flat had not yet been kitted with a television, I did not have a computer and I had read the Singaporean newspaper (from teh airplane) three times.

At least I work at an english school and could read the student's material. However, spark note type books are not fun after you;ve read a few. All I wanted was some entertainment! So, after raiding the other teacher's apartments for reading material I decided to venture out to the trainstation to where there was rumoured to be an english bookstore. My quest for literature begins!

Unfortunately it was interrupted by my over ambitious nature as I jumped off at the wrong bus stop. "Surely it can't be that far away," I tell myself. "I'll walk" Nice idea. Except that where I was walking was along a busy main road along side car mechanics and second hand furniture stores. Not the most scenic of areas but books are near by. Only a few kilometers. I find the bookstore and the 10 english books on sale. Two of which I can afford (first month, tiny budget.) And so I rush home to start reading my new found treasures: Sex and the City and Alice in Wonderland. A very similar theme actually.

I was proud of my new buys...but they lasted no time at all. I devoured them in two days. During my first month I scampered around for as much english literature I could find - pamphlets, books, magazines and newspapers. When wanting to tone down from the day these were all I had. Needless to say that I can tell you all about the happening in Singapore on the 10 of March 2007, and the safety standards embrassed by Korean air.

There really isnt much English media here. On the surface it seems fairly simple. They say dont judge a book by its cover and this is so true. It is fashionable to have english titles or names. Having english wording on your product/shop/menu does not mean that there will be any english explanation within it. This irks me!

While I have found english television channels, english magazines and books and I'm now online, the Korean element is ubiquitous. For instance, I'm not sure how to format this page, as this website's features (yes, MY blog) have magically turned in to circles, swiggles and lines that are the Korean characters. I recieve bills and bank statements that have english titles but I need to ask people in the know to translate the actual content. So much for confidentiallity.

How arogant is it of me to expect Korea to be english. Especially when the reason that I am here is to teach english!?!?!

I will just have to practice my Korean, or at least bulid bigger biceps to aid with the gesturing, waving and pointing for translation and entertainment purposes.

Toilets

Yes, this may seem like a strange topic for ones blog. However, I have many memorable lavatory incidences, it would be a shame not to share them.

The bathroom is not designated much space in Korea. I have learnt to become fairly flexible in getting in and out of loos. My legs are too long for the smaller cubicles and I have become quite inventive with handling the call of nature. This however, is not something that I intend on discussing in general. I am not a fan of toilet humour and will limit it accordingly. This sounds contradictory, but I will try!

Korean plumbing is not made to handle anything other than the necessary. This I did not know. So, one fine day I notice that my toilet is broken. Wonderful. I am going to have to get a plumber. I am going to have to battle my way through the korean/english barrier and have someone tell me how to use a toilet. I start to prepare for the most embarrasing day of my life. But first, let me try flush again. Bad idea. Its blocked. I am just about to call my boss and explain my dilema, when I look at my watch and realise that I only have a few hours before I need to go out.
So, I put on my runnning shoes and sprint down to the supermarket and look for one of those things that I've only ever seen in the movies. A plunger. Only one left. Phew. Now to take it home discretely. I buy some food to make it look more natural, but it really does stick out. The check out lady gives me a knowing smile. Is she being friendly or judgemental? Or both?!?! Eek!

A plunger does not fit under your jacket. It does not fit in a shopping bag. It cannot be hidden. Everyone knows what it is for. As it is, in Korea, I stand out. The plunger added to this effect. Lovely. I race home and try immitate what I've seen on TV and it worked! I can now add plumber to my CV. Also, I can get ready for my night out, not have to be embarrased further by my toilet antics and I now I have a dustbin next to my loo.
Yes, such stories are worthy of Oscar speeches.

Korea is not like Africa where the state of the toilet is always daunting. Instead the more simple the facility, the better. For instance:

Our school dinner was held at a well known franchise, Vips. It's an establishment well known for its great salad bar and top class steaks (something which is laking here.) After a couple of drinks (from the oh-so-cool, self service soda fountain) it was time to excuse myself and find the ladies'. This would not be the only reason for me to be excusing myself.

When it comes down to "business", one function is required. This facillity however, was a heated, multi functional, high tech Korean toilet. Apart from the slightly different appearence, your attention is grabbed by the heat illuminating from the seat. Strange. During the actual business, I was nervous. My philosophy is not to mix electrics and water, and here I was, doing just that! Was the toilet plugged in? Was the bathroom temperature really high or was the previous occupant...no, don't think along those lines, Claire!

I then had to work out how to flush the spaceship. I had to stand up and work out which of the 6 buttons did that. This toilet was Korean. Korean charaters adorned the various buttons. Being the forwad thinking person that I am, I look upon the actual tank for the flush handle/button or potential voice activated panel. I wasn't entirely sure what to look for. Nothing there. Okay, lets look at the button panel again.

I need...water.

The blue button with the picture of water droplets seemed an obvious choice. As I pressed it, I realised that I had made a mistake. A plastic tube rose up and started to spray small droplets in a fountain like manner. Crap. After being sprayed, I jump out the way and slam the toilet seat closed. Seemingly this is the bidet function.

While I was shaking the excess water off my shirt and thinking of plan B, the water started to overflow from under teh toilet seat. Now I was trying to avoid standing in the growing puddle on the floor. This is harder than it may seem, as although this was a decent establishment (with space age toilets) its still Asia and therefore teh cubicle was small. Not much space was available to hide. This was further hindered by the growing pool at my feet. Clearly pressing the button twice did not switch the fountain off.

It did eventually stop, I was able to calm down to a mild panic. The mutterings outside the door however, grew. Great. By now there was lots of water on the floor and clearly loads of water was in the bowl too, as nothing else was there. And so, I emerge. Relieved.

Typically there was a queue. I recieved a few stares (it did look like I had been swimming in there) and as I step up to wash my hands, the first in line takes a quick look inside my former cubicle and decides to wait for the next available loo. I run fairly quickly from the bathroom and dash back to my table, hoping to blend in. But since I was the only blond in the restuarant of 99% asian people, there was no hiding.

Worse of all: I still dont know how to flush a Hi-tech Korean toilet.

In Korea!

Its cold but fantastic. Great group of teachers and friendly, safe area. I start training tomorrow in Seoul. My school is in Suwon, which is about an hour from Seoul, meaning that I will have to commute.

Not much English spoken herre, but its fun. I keep converting in my head and life is pricey for the Rand, but soon I will be earning Won.

All is well. Let the adventure begin!

My Mozambican Trip

The word trip elicits a variety of definitions. The feeling experienced whilst on drugs, the loss of balance (resulting in a fall) or a holiday. All of these definitions are incredibly apt for my experience of Mozambique – the East African country home to millions of palm trees, white beaches, whale sharks, friendly faces and, for approximately 3 weeks, 4 German volunteers and two South African sisters. What a ‘trip’ it would be.

The trip began on an early Friday morning in Cape Town, where a giant fruit would fly us to O.R Tambo International Airport in (Ekurhuleni) Johannesburg. Amazingly our bags made it on the fruity airline. The over-weight, cumbersome backpacks were to be broken into for sure, considering their distinct lack of security. Since it has become quite fashionable to have one’s bag broken into at a South African airport – this notion was not at all daunting. Besides, I had packed nothing of value in the bag, so I’m sure the would-be thief would have been disappointed. Upon inspection of the bags at ORTI, all was still intact. It seems airport thieves enjoy the challenge of breaking in (i.e. breaking a lock.) Our luggage was not a challenge to get into; instead it was a challenge to carry. Even more astounding was that the large airborne fruit arrived early. A mango will be my choice of weapon in the next food-fight. They travel well.

Orti, the loving acronym that I have bestowed upon the airport, is not all that exciting for 3 hours. We were to wait until our host for Friday evening could fetch Yvonne and I from the airport. The nachos were enjoyed as were the free newspapers, but the metal benches (which are always cold) were not that comfortable. This thought struck home on the return again. And so our time at Orti was spent eating junk food, being over charged by chemists and walking around the various terminals, dreaming of all the interesting places that I probably wont ever go. Yes, Orti is a trip!

And then a knight is a shinning white Mazda rescued us. Johan! He was to play host to the weary travelers (yes, weary before having gone anywhere!) We were treated to therapeutic drinks by his swimming pool, gourmet braai cooking and over-indulgent Italian ice cream from Monte Casino. Why were we traveling to Mozambique for a holiday when we could have just lived this life for 3 weeks? Clearly Johan was just being a good host.

The following morning came cruelly early. Again. Our bus was to depart from Midrand at 05:45. When an Intercape bus did arrive we assumed it to be ours, when in fact it was going in the opposite direction. With his somewhat pitiless sense of humour, the bus driver informed us that we were at the wrong station. The wrong side of the road! The particular station that we were at was on a highway, so the only way to get to the other side of the road is to race down the N1, take the next off ramp, get back onto the road and pull off at the petrol station on that side.

05:55

Please let the bus NOT have left!

We call the Intercape office whilst we are on the road. Inform the operator to hold the bus for us. We can see it, waiting kindly for the two (now very) late passengers. Johan screeches to a halt and we gladly hand over our bags to the bus attendants who confirm that we are now going to Uppington.

No!

Maputo!

That bus left 15 minutes ago.

Why then did the operator inform us the bus was waiting for us? Stupid operator. No wonder he is still working the graveyard shift. He’s not very good at what he does. Thinking we had missed the bus, the kind Uppington bus drivers allowed us to catch a lift to the next station, where the majority of travelers would embark. Just to ensure that Intercape was still expecting us (now at Park Station, Johannesburg) I call the lovely operator once again and inform him of the change in plans.

Oh! But the bus is late. It hasn’t got to Midrand yet!

Arg!

So we didn’t miss our bus, we just ran ahead of it.

After enjoying the comforts of Park Station’s benches the Intercape bus headed to Maputo arrived. Late. The bus was not full. Yvonne and I were able to secure a couple of seats each for our sleeping pleasure. Whilst Gauteng is a very scenic province, I slept through most of it. From Nelspruit onwards, the scenery got nicer. It enticed me to stay awake. It was not long before we crossed from South Africa into Mozambique (through a very hot and irritating border crossing) and soon we were delivered to a, seemingly random, office on one of the main roads in Maputo. Feeling somewhat lost, we catch a taxi to The Base Backpackers. Home for the next 3 nights.

We were greeted by Laura, Maria and Wiebke at The Base. The five of us would enjoy Maputo for the next 3 days, until the arrival of Swantje and our departure to the more tropical parts of the country up North.

The capital city is a busy place. Hot and humid, people don’t seem to stop. The city was built around the harbour and the port is still one of the country’s biggest channels of income. Despite the centrality of the harbour, the presence of the sea does nothing to refresh or cool one down. The sea has a moderating effect on the temperature…well, everywhere else it does. The bay of Maputo is simply vindictive – it taunts you because it looks refreshing but does nothing to quench your needs. As a result, Maputo nights are sweaty. Showers don’t help. Once you towel off from the moisture of the shower, you are required to continue throughout the day from the moisture streaming out of every pore on your body. What a trip.

Maputo is a port city. The beaches are further north. However, when the locals want to cool down after a hard city week – they go to Catembe. Catembe is on the otherside of the harbour and is accessible, most efficiently, via ferry. It is not an island (although it feels as such) and it is not tropical. But is a place where you can swim. A typical city beach.

Everyone in Africa pushes and runs. Its standard practice. When in Rome…
Half our group almost missed the ferry from being too polite and not pushy enough. Well, we thought they might miss the ferry. Then we saw how many people were clambering aboard. Cars, motorbikes and no more standing space is the signal for departure. 5 minutes later we were in Catembe and making our way to the beach. Being a local beach, we stuck out like sore thumbs as we did not appear “local” by any means. Most tourists stop and go from Maputo – we stayed longer than is generally expected. We proved to be something of a hit once we got into the water. Even men who could not communicate by any means with us, attempted to gain favour. Proposals were just seconds away. Then we met Julio, an Angolan who spoke Portuguese, English and French (as such he could communicate with all of us.) We enjoyed drinks in a tumbledown shebeen type bar and were invited to go to the infamous Costa da Sol Fish Market. Another little trip.

After being squashed into a bus (and prodded with fingers and sticks so as to ensure maximum space in the bus) we arrived at the fish market. No directions needed – just follow your nose! The fish market is great. Hundreds of prawns, interesting looking fish and the biggest crustaceans you have ever seen. Maria and I decided to go big! Big tiger prawns. You select your fish and then the raw items are taken to the beer garden-come-restaurant where it is cooked up in a traditional Mozambican style. This was going to be good! Or at least it was meant to be: instead when our tigers arrived some of them had shrunk into kittens. Magic! When I tried to explain to the waiter there was a mistake he duly passed blame. This guy was “tripping!” We were ripped off and some chef behind the restaurant was enjoying a couple of our big cats! Despite this, the prawns were still nicer and cheaper than if we had bought them in Cape Town.

Day three of our trip was spent walking the streets of Maputo. We visited the Iron House, a house made completely of Iron (a bit of a kit, so it can be taken apart and packaged at will) and it was built by the same Mr Eiffel that built a little structure that adorns the river Seine in Paris. The cathedral was massive and the town hall traditionally stately. We also visited the Revolutionary Museum. Really it is an ode to Samora Machel, and the captions are mostly in Portuguese. The finer details that I was hoping to learn about were not available. But some of the questions were answered and it was worth the trip. Maputo and Mozambique at large was once a thriving country. Evidence of a once majestic city is scattered up and down the streets of the capital, however the lack of maintenance and the effects of war have left many of its prime buildings in near ruin. Unlike many African cities, Maputo had it all and then it was taken away. Tourism is now boosting the country’s economy and is resulting in the redevelopment of its infrastructure.

After a second day in the city and the arrival of our 6th party member, it was time to head to the beaches and take a trip up north.

Vilenkulos

An early rise was necessary to catch the 05:30 bus. If our morning taxi was anything to go by, we should have expected a bumpy ride for the rest of the day. The taxi (which was to take us to the bus) required push starting by the backpackers. It was raining, but this metered wonderland had no windscreen wipers. Or petrol. But this was soon remedied by filling up the tank at the local station (however, the tank was situated next to the engine – a beneficial modification I am sure!) We are alive at Junta, the bus station where we selected our transport, pay for our bags and ourselves, climb aboard and get going.

Unlike the Greyhound and Intercape standards that we are used to, and perhaps something that should be suggested to them, if the notion of paying per seat and not per person. The woman sitting opposite me had done just that –with one 5year old daughter on one knee and a 7-year-old daughter on the other knee. 1 ticket. 1 seat. I could save a lot of money in SA traveling like that…although I’m not sure how happy the person under me would be. Hmm…

On the road again and all is well. The sunroof acted well, for the most part of blocking the rain out and the chickens under my seat were mostly quiet. African transport is not slow. The drivers are as fast as their equipment allows and our driver had a fair bit of reign. I have never been so fast in a bus before. Speed! For the most part of the trip all was well and then an explosion. A shot? We’ve hit something? The bus started swerving across the road at 140km/h, we started hanging on to whatever one could. Finally, we screech to a halt.

A tyre had blown out. There is no reason that the bus did not roll. The speed, the condition of the road and the overall condition of the bus and its tyres did not suggest a happy ending for this trip. But we were smiled upon by the man upstairs and we stopped. The heat of the braking rose to such a temperature that, not only did the bus experience a blow out, but now also a fire down below. This was spotted by Yvonne, who duly alerted the drivers to get water and Wiebke-fish and I to get off the damn bus! Now!

The bus did not blow up and it did get going again. After a good 45minutes of attempting to remove the molded mesh of wires from around the wheel we were ready to go. For approximately 15kms. The message was eventually translated to us that there was no more transport.

Whilst the message was clear, my understanding was not. What does that mean!?! We were 12 hours into our journey and only 30kms away and yet there was no more transport (or refund I might add – seems the bus needed it!) A passing taxi kindly offered its rip-off service, which we could not afford and a pick-up truck arrived on the scene. Luckily we were not the only stranded people, there were 40 others. We might not of understood them, but we did understand that we were following them. And as luck would have it, everyone start jumping onto the back of this vehicle (no bigger that a large bakkie.) 45 people climbed on to this vehicle. 45 plus bags PLUS chickens, coconuts, month long supplies and plenty of babies. We were ion our way again. Or at least we thought we were. Never assume! Instead this truck did a u-turn and drove in the opposite direction. Great.

It seems Mozambique is too hot for even the tyres to handle – our truck needed a change. Although when I saw the replacement tyre I was secretly praying for the original to remain. The new tyre had chunks of tread missing from it. A sure safety measure when over-loading, I’m sure. A half hour of surfing on the back of the truck and our destination lay ahead. After being dropped off, a quick hike through the sandy streets of Vilenkulos was necessary until we arrived at Baobab Backpackers.

Vilenkulous is a more rural beach spot sheltered by the Bazaruto Archipelago. Accordingly the sea seems more lagoon like in nature. Ridiculously warm waters that travel miles due to the changing tides. Our first day here was spent swimming, eating, tanning (burning) and sleeping. The tough life of a traveler in Mozambique! Baobab as a backpackers was great. Reed huts with mosquito nets, a large vibey bar, palm trees a plenty with coconut concussion a clear and present danger and the friendliest locals.

We were invited to a pig braai the third evening. We all chipped in (about R15) Tau and Christian (our local artist friends) were going to buy the live pig in town, bring it to the backpacker sand “prepare” it for dinner. Needless to say, we avoided the preparation area. When dinner was ready it seemed to be a free-for-all. Basically you were handed a knife and were told to help yourself. Having never been a butcher, I was unsure of the various cuts. None of the girls knew what they were looking for (even the pig farmer’s daughter was confused!) Later that evening we met a young South African developer and inquired about the price of property in the area. I may just be investing soon!

Day 4, Vilenkulo
We spent a day at the Islands. A local dhow (traditional fishing boat) took us to Magaruque, the small Island off Vilenkulos. The ride was bumpy and wet but the island was sheltered and the reef awaited us! We grabbed our snorkels, fins and masks, ran up the beach and swam the current down the island with millions of the most colourful fish I have ever seen. The coral was great and the reef lined the outskirts of the land. We only swam 3 meters away from the land but we were swimming in a completely different world. We only stopped to eat. The boat crew braied barracuda (the fish that ate Nemo’s mom) and we feasted on local flavours. After allowing lunch to settle, it was back to find Nemo!

Sundays in Mozambique are designated party days. And we attended our first local Beach Party. Think La Med, but just much wilder! A few marriage proposals later from a local Rastafarian and we left the party early (before it got really wild.) Our last couple of days in Vilenkulous were spent bartering with the locals, swimming, sleeping in hammocks and eating copious amounts of juicy fruit. Laura was anointed a Rasta, Maria learnt Portuguese, Swantje picked up a German gent and Wiebke was Christened “Wiebke-fish.”

Next stop: Morrungulo (Nelson’s Bay) a place no one had ever gone to, or heard of, just read about. Approximately 2-½ hours south, it was half way to our next main stop and worth a try. Another few taxi arguments and our backpacks were attached in the most dubious of way and we were off. The national road runs 10 – 15 kms from the coast. So one travels from town to town along the main road and then catches a separate chapa (taxi) to the coastal town. This was once again the case with Morrungulo. However, I very much doubt that anything other than a 4x4 could make it all the way. Our new chapa was a bakkie. All 14 of us squeezed on (bags, beers and all) and we went along the gravel road up hills and through the most picturesque and wild scenery of palms. Our view was only shielded by the sheets of torrential rain that was soaking us through. We were pleasantly surprised (and concerned) when the reception area of the camp site resembled something more 5 starish than backpackers. Luckily, it was out of season and completely affordable to camp. The camp site was stunning. By far the nicest site on the trip. We set our tents/mosquito nets up in the barraca/lapa-type area (each site had one for eating, but it would do for our sleeping.) We were soaked through and exhausted, so sleep was the order of the day. The concrete floors somewhat more comfortable than the hard ground I experienced at Baobab. It was only around dinner time that we realized that we had no camping equipment and since Morrongulo was not a backpackers, there was no equipment to use. There were no geysers so cooking 2 minute noodles with warm water was not going to work. Instead, Swantje had been exploring and noticed that one of the chalets was open (and unoccupied!) Stealth Operation Cook Food was launched. At the fall of darkness, Yvonne and Swantje snuck into the $120p/n chalet and cooked our dinner, running down the beach with pots and pans. This operation was required on both nights but on the second evening we made friends with our near neighbours who also provided food and drink (too much drink for some.) The coast line of Morrongulo was very different to Vilenkulos. Consistent 2ft surf, miles of white sands and supposedly the best dive spot in the world. We attempted to negotiate a free dive with the local dive center, but were unsuccessful.

The following day we said our goodbyes to Laura and left for Tofu. More fierce arguments with the chapa drivers but we finally settle on a fair price. We travel from Massinga (the main road town of Morrongulu) to Maxixe. From Maxixe, we catch a Dhow across the bay to Inhambane (rated one of the nicest towns in East Africa.) Inhambane is a thriving town with a large Portuguese influence in its architecture. A free shuttle then takes us to Tofu, the tourist spot of Inhambane, and to Bamboozi Backpackers.

Tofu is a great little coastal village with a larger western presence than we had seen before. Tofu has brilliant diving spots and surfing spots accordingly a few Australian and South African people have set up shop. There are awesome little coffee shops and beach bars along this tiny coast and the little village market during the day is a must for cashew nuts and trading for shell bracelets. Bamboozi’s bar area/hangout spot is perched right on top of some majestic dunes and provides a great view over Tofu. However, it also seems to be a mosquito hot spot. I established this after counting 9 bites on one hand. We stayed 3 nights and then moved further down the beach to the infamous backpackers ‘Fatima’s Nest.’ A younger, party vibe was found here as well as cheaper camping facilities (which everyone paid but not everyone enjoyed the luxury of camping, some snuck into the dorms!) We were also privileged to meet Fatima! Or, instead a screaming German received ice for her foot from Fatima (a bench landed on her foot!)

One of the highlights was swimming with a whale shark. It is the biggest fish in the sea and named for a whale due to its monstrous size. I was therefore expecting to see something more whale-like. Instead, it is a shark! A huge shark! There were times when we were swimming around the spectacular creature that I was grateful that it didn’t have teeth. They are gentle creatures but detest being touched. Wo, as I named it was as curious about us as we were about him/her. We swam with it for a good 45minutes. Wow! I have been bitten by sharks now (in the sense that I am a huge fan now!) We were fortunate to have a New Zealand Scientist aboard, who had been studying the whale shark in Tofu. Tofu is said to be the best place in the world for sighting a whale shark and having an expert onboard was fascinating! He later gave a lecture at the local lodge explaining his latest research and I am in complete awe of these animals!

Our last few days in Tofu were spent snorkeling, watching the fisherman bring in the biggest sword fish ever, fending of marriage-proposing locals and eating cashew nuts. We also returned to Bamboozi for their seafood buffet. I have never consumed so much seafood in one helping without feeling any qualms about going for seconds. Note to Tofu Travelers: Bamboozi, Friday night! Wow!

Unfortunately the malaria tablets I was taking started to take their toll at this stage in the game. I became incredibly sensitive to the sunlight. A common symptom. My time outdoors was limited, but still enjoyed. It was not long before we were all off again. We left on an early Monday morning and after 33hours in transit, arrived back home in Cape Town. Very dirty, a bit broke, slightly tanned and in complete reverence for the fantastic holiday!

Bryan Adams will now always remind me of Mozambique, Pineapples will never taste so good and I will probably never receive marriage proposals the way I did in Mozambique and I am completely grateful for it all!

its incredibly hot!

35'

busy, humid, sticky...but awesome. Leave for Vilenkulo soon