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Bon Dia!

Or is that Boa Dia?

Who knows. Not really an issue. Nothing really is. Not when you are chilling for many days in a rustic Mozambican town. Not even the lack of hot water was serious, and by Day 5, neither were the power cuts.

The lack of proper flushing toilets, being shared by at least 5 people, never did really become OK though. Ah well, next time we’ll just have to go back for more days.

I am DEFINITELY traipsing back there at my earliest possibility. And maybe even straight back to the half-star accommodation of Casa of Josef e Tina. Not that we met either of them, although there are incriminating photos of us dancing around one night with the portrait of Tina, to the ridiculous amusement of the locals.

At this very moment I am listening to Bob belt out some reggae & recalling where I was exactly a week ago...actually that day was not idyllic at all, it was the one day of rain where I suffered through a headache brought on by only one friend in the entire world...dear Tequila.

My boss just told me in a meeting now that speaking to me this morning is like communicating with the undead. He is blaming it on my 7 days of Vilanculous beach. I quietly am also laying heavy blame on Saturday night’s German absurdly mad wedding in George.

Between the two trips, I:
Am bruised and battered – with only the one bruise on my one knee being explicable,
Am not able to walk properly on my left leg thanks to some crazy asss dancin’ with Fritz,
Have replaced my blood with Jamesons & dodgy Mozam local water,
Am TANNED (well, as tanned as us Brit descendants get, ie. Peachy pink),
Am chilled, happy, dopey, slow, & wholly satisfied,
Am wondering where my morning Portuguese roll is,
Am fatter,
Am wondering when is the earliest appropriate time to crack open my first 2M beer,

am hoping the million and one mosquito banquets held on my body will not result in me having malaria, but I think it might actually to lead to a few mosquitoes having alcohol poisoning,
Nearly became a drug mule, but I politely declined the Kiwi’s request to carry a “small package of private belongings” back to Jozi,
Am a one-eyed pirate, - we still don’t know why my right eye swelled up to the size of a golf ball & became redder than sun-crisped skin, maybe it was the snorkling, maybe it was the rum, maybe it was the freshly-caught crab,
have tested the comfortability of snoozing on top of a deep freeze, as opposed to my plank bed, - or so there are apparently photos to testify,
was married off to a mozam mercenary who proposed to me over a flaming sambuca,
have a new best friend, Louisa, a Vilanculous local who terrifies me a little, and I am her “daaaaaar aling”,
am seeking any job possible on the Mozam coast,
Had to be dragged onto the plane home, and not only because it was straight out of WWI,
Am acquainted with the toughest calamari ever to be served to a human,
am Full up on Crab Curry, prawns, the freshest fish, muscles, rice, more rice, chicken, cashew nuts, and that HEAVY Porto bread,
Am Well aware of just how scary Russian women really can be – especially after nastrovia’ing her after she & her tiny blonde friend downed a bottle of wodka on the beach before she took her hefty self off swimming with a local,
Have learnt to never let a drunk German drive because I am drunker – apparently in their country they drive on the right hand side of the road… thank gawd it was a rental car, I fear the state of its gearbox by Sunday lunchtime,
Have finally spent significant time in a Garden Route town other than PE – still not too sure what one is meant to do during the day in these places,
Saw a good friend get married off – she was born 3 days before me in the same hospital as me, surely this does not reflect anything about my single status!?!,
Have resettled my quota of tequila – thanks to a bottle on Easter night,
Am thought to be mad by a couple of NGO Portos,
Think that Germans are damn hot, but I still prefer the French, or even the half-french-half-germans but that one had a pretty girlfriend who helped him manage his cheese wholesalers,
Have terrified a George local… by calmly stumbling over to her & telling her that she is more than welcome to snog this HOT HOT German guy but maybe she should not be SO skanky as to snog him just minutes after me, and maybe even be decent enough not to flirt disgustingly with him while I am sitting next to him,
Drove to work today trying to imagine I was rather on a speed boat being driven to the deserted islands by one loco Mozambican who aimed for every wave with a whoop of glee & glint in his eye,
Have learnt that everything that is wrong in Vilanculos is to be blamed on “the cyclones” – from the lack of white people, houses & trees flattened, the potholes, lack of decent fruit & cashew nut…
The locals like to laugh a lot, especially at me, I have yet to work out why, I think they just are in love with my dance moves & Porto-greeting attempts,
Have sat mesmerised by countless dvd’s of Mozam music videos,
Did not get through one single book,
Studied – on the plane trip back to Jozi from Mozam…Impressive, I reckon!,
Have discussed religion, politics & money over several double rums & cokes at a exiled Zimbo’s bar with one intelligent & lovely new friend (who might just be reading this...),
Have skinny dipped at full moon in the warm Indian Ocean with far too many friends all at once.
Did I mention our “Bed & Breakfast” (term to be read very loosely in this case) was right across the road from the deserted beach, which led to the flattest ocean of warm water, shone down on by a sun that was hot by 9am each morning. Perfect. Completely.

Or that I love it & want to go straight back.