Two fairly simple border crossings later we found ourselves in Mozambique. The last hour had taken us out of the truck and into four wheel drives to go along the sand and bring us to our camp by the beach in Ponta Malongane. We arrived in the evening and made a quick effort to set up the tents before walking up the road in search of a bar while we waited for dinner. It was great to be somewhere we could relax and a few people tried some traditional Mozambican drinks while the rest of us were treated to a free shot with chilli infused rum. The spice was a little much but made the drink nothing short of interesting.
Waking up at a reasonable hour the next day I heard one of the worst sounds you can hear on a camping trip (at least in my, non-camper opinion); raindrops on the tent. Each drop felt louder than the last as it fell on the canvas and I started to wonder what would become of our supposed beach day. Seeking refuge under a covered cooking area we set up breakfast and ate beneath it while the rain fortunately started to slow down. We walked down the path to the beach and watched as a dark grey cloud with visible distant rain attempted to overtake the sky, encouraging us to walk further down the beach and settle in at the bar with drinks and books to relax with while we waited for the weather.
Later on we walked back to the village in search of lunch and found a reasonable restaurant apparently not fit to cater with speed to groups of 10. We waited almost 2 hours for our meals but found it was well worth the wait. What I’ve come to learn anyway is that Africa runs on a different time to the rest of the world. You can’t expect anything to come quickly so learn to exercise patience and enjoy where you are.
My shower that night may have resulted in me being more dirty than when I started. The pipes and the tank itself must have been corroding because instead of nice, clear water I found myself under brown water that would’ve filled up a sieve with rust in a second had I have used one. You could literally smell the rust. I’m unsure why but I held hope that it would change and didn’t jump out after 20 seconds like I should have resulting in a minor fake tan and a stained, no longer white towel. My excitement for a clean shower in St Lucia the next day was very real and I only hoped I would be lucky enough to have one.