Beira, Mozambique´s second largest city

We have been in Beira for a few days, mainly to satisfy Hung´s desire to be in a city but also to let the dust settle before we hit the road for the last legs of my trip. We decided to take an internal flight from Nampula to Beira as the roads are not so great and there was not a place we really wanted to see in the Central coast given that time is running out. It felt a little like cheating to me, but the flight was short and inexpensive, so it made sense so that we can spend more time in Maputo.

Beira is full of large old buildings (some small fraction of which are being restored) that are in various states of decay. There are some crazy scenes at night downtown where people are squatting in old official buildings and you can see their activities in silhouette through the barred windows. It is along the coast and there is a large port. Lots of old screened buildings, sort of reminds us of New Orleans. It is much larger than Nampula, and sprawls outward, but feels less upwardly mobile than Nampula did. Maybe its the lazy feel of the coast itself? The call to prayer is not as loud here, we are starting to see people wearing cross necklaces and pork is once again featured on the menu, so we´ve definitely crossed into another travel zone.



I wandered by myself up to the coastal fringe the first afternoon. People were fishing and constructing traps (for crabs?) and egrets waded in the gulleys. As my shadow became longer and my footprints added to the many before me, I began to reflect on the similarities among people. We are so often aware of our "difference" here, as foreigners, mzungu, whites, rich people, etc., but my footprints looks the same, and my shadow looks the same, and as Hung would later that evening point out, we all need toothpicks after we eat...

Yesterday we went to a large sprawling market on the outskirts of town. I bargained for a few cappellanos (woven geometric sarongs) and then we headed into the maze of seemingly endless stalls selling...everything really. One of the really noticeable things here is all the repair stalls...watch repair, radio and TV repair, etc...the culture is not nearly as disposeable as ours in the US has become. We followed along a main route about .5 km it seemed and got spit out the other end into what appeared to be a shantytown. Since Hung never likes backtracking his steps (and likes being disoriented - a state which he is having a hard time getting me to enter) we followed some folks through the shantytown which also seemed endless. We got alot of stares and schoolchildren practicing their English lessons on us ("my name is Nanito, what is your name?" "How are you, I am fine") and collapsing into shy giggles when we actually answer.

Eventually we hit the edge of the area which bordered a large marsh (what I have come to call mosquito reserves), and we walked over some planks and made our way on a wellworn path through some tall reeds back to the city proper - with streets and concrete buildings and a small cantina serving draft beers for $10,000 Meticals (about 35 centsUS).

Tomorrow we head to Vilankulo as we are trying to do an overnight dhow trip through an archipelago. And after that we'll be in Maputo until my travel time is up.