Mozzie Mayhem in Maputo.

I was lucky enough to begin my next trip with Gareth giving me a lift to the north beachside Pavilion Hotel, in Durban to catch my 6.30 am Luciano Luxury bus to Mozambique. It was indeed, luxury, compared to the transport that was to follow for me the next day.  Travelers Hints and Tips below

I was the only non-African on the bus and the one with the least amount of luggage with only my backpack, a satchel and day pack (I’d tried to reduce it to two bags by offloading some shorts & tops to Gareths maid with no success on the baggage side) We were united in that we were all traveling with what we’d deemed un-leave-behind-able. Whereas I’d brought clothing, toiletries and social media requirements others had brought a dozen eggs and three big plastics bags full of I’m not sure what. Another had a bag of cooked chicken and a plastic container of cookies. Another, bottles of what I made out to be wine or whiskey clanging together in her shopping plastic bags.
There were no instructions given on the bus and when we pulled up after about three hours in something that looked like an industrial estate I just followed the rest of the woman as they disembarked hoping somewhere ahead was a toilet. They headed across a six lane highway which housed a KFC and petrol station with toilets and snacks on the other side.   Where I tinkled for R2 in a very clean toilet and bought a lovely apple, crisp and juicy enough to remind me of home.
We stopped once to pick people up but I was too dozy to notice who or where. I have an amazing ability to nod off hundreds of times in one journey so that I end up looking like one of those toy dogs with a dislocated neck that flops around in the back window of some peoples cars. By the end of my trips my neck does feel dislocated but it is a good way for my trips to take on the appearance of me having time-traveled.

Eventually we stop at the South Africa/Swaziland border and a guy getting off the bus ahead of me is the first person besides the bus assistant to speak to me. I’m not sure if this is because he’s just friendly, or is the only one who speaks English.
The South African immigration guy, apart from being extremely attractive mumbles something like “all black”. I’m bamboozled, is he saying its all blacks on the bus. Well, he is correct. I say pardon? To which he shakes my passport and says “All Blacks” Aha! I give him a big grin and a thumbs up saying “yeah, the best” to which he decides to enlighten me by saying “no, not the best” come on I say, twice world champions to which he says, they’re good but not the best. Okay, whatever I’m thinking, please just let me out of your country. He then tells me I don’t have any room left in my passport to which I don’t dare respond that actually I have 13 pages left. I know cause I’d just counted them in between my toy dog noddy head antics on the bus.
I thankfully am allowed to proceed across the border into Swaziland, through immigration and then stand for some time waiting while the Swaziland immigration guys do a very half-hearted search of the luggage stored in the bowels of the bus.

Hours later we finally leave Swaziland where the immigration there is a bit more state of the art in that I have to provide them with my index finger print. And then we’re straight through Mozambique immigration and on the countdown to arriving in Maputo, capital of Mozambique. The 8 hour trip has taken 11 hours and my organised pickup is not there.

A taxi driver believes I have the look of backpacker  and says “you go to Fatimas“? (the place I am staying and the only backpackers in town) He tells me that they always say they’re coming and never do. I said I was happy to wait to which he said no problem I will wait in case they don’t come. After a while when there was almost only me left, I asked a girl if I could borrow her phone but she had no “airtime, aka phone credit” left. So I asked the bus assistant who kindly rang them for me, they said he was on his way and sure enough 5 mins later he was. The taxi driver on checking I was now ok, said good and left, which was nice.
I was so worn out from all my head nodding and debating rugby that I get showered, had a beer, sent messages at 7 pm when the internet finally gets turned on to let the world know I’m safe and then go to my room of eight bunk beds where I crash on the squeakiest lower bunk I’ve ever encountered. I wake occasionally to door slams and insect-spray spraying. When I finally fully-awake in the morning I notice I’m the only one to have used the mozzie net. Why and how is it that I am now covered in mosquito bites? Are the little blighters actually hiding out in the nets until they’re released by novices like me. As I’m also the only body left in the room I’ll never be able to find out if any others shared my mozzie harangued pain.

• NO VISA ON ARRIVAL – The bus company wont let you travel without already possessing a Mozambique visa in your passport even though it says everywhere you search on the net that its visa on arrival
• Mozambique Consulate Tips:
  • Location Details
  • You need to go to an FNB bank and deposit the cost of the visa into their account. You cannot do an account transfer online you must get a receipt from the bank. The cost of the visa was R750 ($50 usd) about $40 less than my Google search had told me. NB. this is for a New Zealand passport holder
  • They open from 8 am and close at 11 am for visa applications. You can drop of the completed form, your passport, 1 x passport photo and the receipt from the bank and your visa will be ready for you to pick up again between 2 pm and 4  pm. It was all easy, no questions asked etc.
• Here’s a link for more Mozambique border crossing information