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Mozambique 19-23/05/2012

ruta_mozambique.jpgCu exceptia provinciilor Tete si Niassa - prin care am intrat noi - Mozambique nu are mai mult de 300 km latime de-a lungul celor 2500 km de coasta. Cat doua treimi din Africa de Sud, ne-a atras nu doar cu legendarii shrimpi care iti sar direct in tigaie, dar mai ales cu melanjul de cultura latino si africana. In afara de ceva Bantu, araba, Makonde si Swahili in nord, limba oficiala este portugheza, pentru ca aceasta a fost colonia celor mai priceputi navigatori ai lumii. Limbile romana si portugheza sunt printre cele mai apropiate. Eram nerabdatori sa exersam. 

With the exception of the Tete and Niassa provinces - where we would enter it - Mozambique lies within 300 km of its 2500 km coastline. Two thirds the size of South Africa, it lured us not only with its legendary tiger prawns that were supposed to be jumping straight into the pan along the beaches, but also with the unique blend of Latino and African cultures. Besides vernacular Bantu, some Arabic, Makonde and Swahili in the north, the official language of the world’s best sailors’ colony is Portuguese. Romanian is closest to Portuguese. Hence, we were very keen to practice.

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Primele incercari de portugheza au fost de mare succes: aceasta a 17-a tara africana intra direct in topul favoritelor. In mai putin de jumatate de ora eram rezolvati cu actele pe ambele parti ale frontierei, incluzand si statul la taclale cu oficialii. Pentru 14 zile taxa de import temporar pentru moto a fost de 27 de Meticais, nici macar 1 Euro! Ziua si aventura in Mozambique incepeau sub cele mai bune auspicii. Am intrebat pe ce parte a drumului sa conduc, si ne-am asternut pe treaba. 

We had our first attempt at Portuguese right at the border. Our successful conversation - as sketchy as it was -  beefed up our enthusiasm for this 17th country we were visiting in Africa. In less than 30 minutes, chit chat with the lovely chaps on both sides included, we were stamped in Mozambique, no muss, no fuss. We had payed 27 Meticais - not even 1 Euro! - for the 14 days Temp Import Permit. We asked which side of the road were we supposed to drive, and off we went. Brilliant. We already loved the place.

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Hai sa vorbim despre cat de fain e sa te dai cu motorul off-road intr-un nor de praf. Nu-i asa ca e blana? Sa nu ne intelegi gresit, suntem si noi in aceeasi caruta cu restul lumii. Ne convine si noua sa economisim timp si anvelope, sa nu ne frangem oasele prin toate hartoapele si sa ne prezentam la ambasade intr-o tinuta decenta. Imprevizibilitatea drumurilor africane insa este acea evadare temporara din Puscaria de Asfalt in care traim. Merita sa aplicam la vize plini de noroi si de praf si sa starnim curiozitatea orasenilor cu parul nostru zburlit si hainele zdrentuite. Pentru ca nimic nu bate drumul care nu e pe bune drum. Nefiind fanii soselei si nici ai atractiilor turistice (de care sudul tarii e plin), planuisem o ruta mai putin circulata: de-a curmezisul provinciei Zambezia, catre Tete. Ideea fiind sa bagam off road de-a lungul fluviului Zambezi, apoi sa trecem o garla - daca bacul era functiune - undeva dupa Caia, dupa care urma aflam cum sta treaba cu drumurile asfaltate in Mozambique. Planul a functional fara cusur.

Let’s talk about how much fun is riding on a dirt road suffocated in a cloud of dust. How about a lot? Now, don’t get us wrong. We play the game, too. Saving time and rubber, not breaking every bone in our bodies and arriving at embassies in decent shape are all good. The unpredictability of the African infrastructure though is that temporary escape from the Tar Prison we live in. We might look like a mess when we apply for our next visa and inspire a few odd stares with our frizzy hair and shredded soiled gear, but, yeah, baby, nothing beats the open - literally road. We knew well of the over-developed southern half of Mozambique, so we had planned a less traveled route: across the Zambezia province, thru Tete. The idea being to ride off road along the mighty Zambezi, then cross it - if the ferry was operational - somewhere before Caia, after which we would finally get a taste of the Mozambican tarmac. Our plan worked pretty well.

Ziua a doua, orele 14.00

Day two, 2.00 p.m.

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Ziua a patra, orele 12.45

Day four, 12.45

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Dar sa o luam cu inceputul: prima zi am petrecut-o traversand sate saracacioase dar pitoresti, numai colibe de chirpici si oameni pe jos sau pe bicicleta. Poate o data pe ora, cate un OZN pe patru roti transporta catre urmatoarea paranghelie un mahar local. In Tete am primit primele vesti proaste: benzina costa aproape 6,5 lei, cea mai scumpa in Africa, iar drumurile pe care vroiam sa iesim din Moatize fusesera inchise pentru uzul privat al minelor de carbune. In spatele padurii de boababi am gasit trasa pe care urma sa mergem a doua zi.

Rewinding to day one, we spent the better part of the day riding through a very poor, but quite picturesque rural region, dirt huts, most people on foot. Maybe once every two hours a shiny 4x4 would UFO through. In Tete we got some bad news: petrol was the most expensive so far in Africa, about 15 Rand/l (6,5 Ron) and the roads we wanted to take after the Moatize were now private because of coal mining. Our target for the next day, a bumpy dirt track, was behind the baobab forest.  

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La 5.22 seara eram cu cortul pus si cina intinsa: samosa de cartofi la 1 Metical bucata, avocado, rosii, banane si faimoasele chifle mozambicane. Soarele apusese deja, in spatele muntilor din Malawi.

Dawn at 5.22 p.m., we had a bush camp with a view of Malawi. We fetched supper - potato samosas(1 Metical a pop), avocado, tomatoes, bananas and the famous Mozambican bread rolls.

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A doua zi a fost de doua ori mai tare. Rasaritul ne-a pus in miscare devreme. Pe la 7.30 facusem deja ceva kilometri. Drumul avea de toate: nisip sau praf profund, ba pietris, ba bolovani, ba albii secate. Trebuie sa dea de furca cand ploua.

We almost went full retard on day two. The sunrise kick started  us, so by 7.30 a.m. we had an awesome off road swagger. The road has everything you could ask for. Demanding, if not a bit technical, alternating gravel, dirt, deep sand, rocky plateaus, even dry river beds and huge rocks. This must be a bitch in the wet. 

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Cautand cea mai buna trasa aproape ca ne-a ciocnit de un taximetrist pe scuter care venea din sensul opus. Am franat amandoi, si am oprit in malul de pamant. Ne-am numarat pagubele: oglinda dreapta rupta (din nou), ceva zagarieturi pe protectii, cutia indoita, iar 15 km mai tarziu am observat semnalizatorul dreapta rupt. Asa ca am mai potolit ritmul, ceea ce ne-a permis sa observam in tihna ca duminica e o zi oarecare de munca pe aici: femeile spala rufe, muncesc pamantul, cara apa si lemne de foc, cern faina; barbatii isi vad si eu de ce pot, iar copiii zburda in praf sau ajuta prin gospodarie. La praz am tras sub un copac sa imbucam o gustare din conserva pe avocado si paine. Satenii s-au aratat interesati, dar nu ne-au deranjat in nici un fel. Oamenii astia sunt altfel, foarte linistiti, aproape timizi.

While trying to find the best passage thru this temperamental road profile, we almost collided with a scooter taxi coming from the opposite direction. I had to stop in the high dirt bank. Right mirror broken (again!), some scratches on the fairings, new dents in the pannier, and 15 km later I noticed the right light also missing. So for the next 60 kays we cooled it down to about 40 kays per hour. Sunday, we noticed, was a regular weekday around there: women do laundry, harvest crops, fetch water from pumps or boreholes, carry fire wood, sieve maizena; men go about their business, kids play in the dirt or help with household chores. Our lunch time snack of canned tuna, avocado and bread stirred some interest from the villagers, but nobody bothered us. These people are different. Chilled, shy even.  

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La una dintre trecerile peste calea ferata un biciclist mi-a urat ‘boa tarde’. A fost fain sa il putem saluta pe limba lui.

At the odd junction with the rail road I got a ‘boa tarde’ from a cyclist. I was glad I knew how to greet him back.

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Terminasem apa de ceva vreme, cand am dat peste prima pompa.

We had been out of water for hours, when finally spotted a pump. Thanks EU!

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Dupa 279 de kilometri de pamant si soare eram franti. Ajungeam la podul Dona Ana, la vremea sa cel mai lung pod de cale ferata din Africa. Traversand Zambezi-ul de jos pe circa 3,67 km, podul a costat peste 1 400 000 de lire in 1935, si chiar si azi e un exemplu de invovatie inginereasca.

After 279 km of powder and sun we were spent. We had hit the Dona Ana Bridge, at its time the longest railway bridge in Africa, spanning for 3,67 km the Lower Zambezi. The bridge cost more than £1,400,000 in 1935 and is even today an example of engineering achievement. 

link http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dona_Ana_Bridge

sau http://mikes.railhistory.railfan.net/r150.html

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Cat asteptam sa treaca trenul, am ochit pietoni si biciclisti venind printre case si dinspre pod. Adica ar fi rost sa trecem si noi? Pana la bac am mai fi avut de mancat o paine si oricum nu aveam baza sa il gasim in functiune, mai ales duminica si abia la sfarsitul sezonului ploios. Asta se cerea investigat. 

As we were waiting for the train to pass, we spotted pedestrians and cyclists coming from the bridge. Could we cross it as well, instead of searching for a ferry ahead that might be working on not, especially on a Sunday? That required some investigation. 

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Cu ajutorul satenilor am descurcat potecile pana la picioarele podului. Unde am descoperit ca aveam de urcat o scara de lemn cam la 45, ca sa ajungem pe platforma pietonala. Am dat jos cutiile si ne-am opintit - eu, basca 4 localnici - sa urcam mostrul pe pod. In general nu rasplatim serviciile cu bani, dar de data asta ne-am zis ca ar fi de bun simt sa le dam baietilor o bere. 

The villagers helped us navigate the maze of paths leading to the bridge, where we discovered we needed to climb a 45 degrees flight of stairs in order to access the pedestrian way. With the panniers off and the strength of me plus other 4 men combined, the bike was up. I generally don’t give money to people, but I figured it was the decent thing to buy them some beer. 

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Vazute de sus, insulite acoperite cu nuferi albi si lila faceau ca Zambezi sa arate ca o delta; cine si-ar imagina undeva pe traseul acestui fluviu domol neimblanzita cascada Victoria? Multimea a frematat cand pe la jumatea podului am saltat motorul si l-am trecut cu inima cat un purice peste locul din care lipseau niste lespezi de beton. Cam asa arata iesirea de pe pod:

Seen from up, white and purple water lilies populated islets on the Zambezi, making the river look like an immense delta. You would never suspect somewhere on this calm flow of water the untamed Victoria. Midway across, there was a couple of concrete slabs missing. The crowd cheered when we lifted the bike across the gap. That’s what the end of the bridge looked like on the other side, next to a small market:

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Stii ca te afli pe drumuri africane daca e plin de lume. Pe jos, pe bicla, unii chiar motaind in lumea lor pe cate un sac de porumb. Drumul african e un spatiu de intalnire si surpriza. Adesea trecem pe langa cele mai ingenioase incercari ale oamenilor de a cara un volum imposibil de bagaje, schimbam saluturi cu trecatorii si provocam cate un orgasm politistilor care uita sa ne mai ceara actele. 

You’re on African off road if it’s covered in man. Most are walking, some cycling, some even napping, completely zoned out on a bag of maize. The African road is a place of awe and companionship. We often get to see man’s most ingenious attempt to carry a shitload of stuff, be greeted by passer-byes and get waived-through by policemen with a boner at the sight of our bike. 

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In Caia am trecut al doilea pod peste Zambezi. 

In Caia we crossed Zambezi for a second time. 

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In primul sat am gasit rosii, avocado, banane si niste prajituri din zahar, miere si arahide. Oamenii ii gaseam neobisnuit de simpatici si relaxati, printre cei mai placuti din intreaga Africa.

We found gas and in the next village tomatoes, avocado, bananas and a crumbly cookie of crystallized sugar, honey and ground nuts. People kept surprising us with their laid back attitude, minus the occasional snap. We had a feeling they could become a highlight for our African travels. 

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De ceva timp ne formasem o rutina: ca sa putem campa in lanul de iarba cat un stat de om aveam de cosit cu cizmele si smuls buruieni vreo 20 de minute, in timp ce felurite lighioane se adapa cu sangele si sudoarea noastra. Cam asa arata un campsite dupa ce ne-am strans bulendrele:

By now a habit of serious landscaping for every bush camp had been established. To pitch a tent in the 1,5 m tall grass meant we had to work for 20 minutes, using our boots for shovels and our hands to clean up the spot, while various species of bugs would feast on our sweaty bodies. That’s what the campsite looked like after packing up:

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Ceata matinala

Morning fog

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Pe la jumatatea diminetii ajungeam in Quelimane, un fost centru al comertului cu fildes, aur si sclavi. In 1858 David Livingstone era numit aici consul onorific al Coroanei britanice, si tot aici isi icepea cruciala explorare in bazinul fluviului Zambezi. Astazi gloria de odinioara s-a pierdut, cladiri coloniale in ruina zac prada lichenilor pe post de toalete publice alaturi de constructii interesante din epoca modernista. Locul asta ar merita un viitor. 

Midmorning we had reached sleepy Quelimane, now only a shadow of its former glory, when it was an important port for the gold, ivory and slaves trade. David Livingstone was appointed the British Honorary Consul to Quelimane in 1858, and later started his crucial exploration from the Zambezi from here. Splendid but crumbling down colonial ghosts lie next to moldy Corbusier-era architecture. Housing complex, residential villas, public buildings, this place would deserve a future. 

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In cautarea unei cafenele internet - conexiunea s-a dovedit teribil de slaba - am dat peste o ‘pastelaria’. Daca venisem in Mozambique pentru crustacee, aveam sa stam din cauza acestor patiserii de inspiratie portugheza. Ne-am initiat cu un fursec fraged cu cocos si un chec parfumat cu dulche de leche.

The internet was painfully slow in the only shop we could find, but while searching for a cyber cafe, we stumbled upon a Mozambican tradition: the pastelaria. If we had arrived in this country for the rumored seafood, we were to stay for the bakery. A moist desiccated coconut cookie and an aerated sponge cake with a hint of dulche de leche introduced us to local pastelarias.

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Plantatiile de cocos se intind cat vezi cu ochii, dar raman in mare parte ne-recoltate de-a lungul celor 33 de km care duc catre plaja Zalala. 

Coconut-palm plantations stretch as far as the eye can see, but go largely unharvested along the 33-kilometre run down to the Zalala beach. 

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Catunul de pescari nu arata deloc ca in pozele cu plaje paradisiace cu care sunt ademeniti turistii in Mozambique. Sosirea noastra in satul in care eram singurii care nu aveau treaba cu pescuitul a provocat ceva valva. Ne-am instalat cartul in gradina unei pensiuni pustii, al carui patron s-a dovedit a fi seful sectiei de politie. Biroul lui era chiar peste drum de noi, asa ca macar eram in siguranta. In zece minute eram pe plaja in cautare de pescari si pestele aferent.  Nici 24 de ore mai incolo ne faceam bagajele, inregistrand unul dintre cele mai eficiente pit stopuri din calatorie. Izbutisem sa: mancam creveti la gratar, sa cumparam peste oarescum stricat (Ana in prag de harakiri de rusine) pe care l-au mancat intr-un final paznicii, sa spalam toate rufele si sa ne dusam (totul operat la galeata cu apa rece de put). Africa, bine te-am regasit. La lumina frontalei Ana mi-a crosetat o freza care m-a convins ca tunsul parului in semi-intuneric e o idee buna. 

The fishing village was nothing like the palm fringed beaches we have heard about; we were the only non-fishermen, so finding a place to camp generated some commotion in the village. We settled on the lawn of some deserted guest house, whose owner proved to be the chief of police. The office was actually right across the sandy road, so at least we were safe. Within 10 minutes we were off to the beech to find fish and fishermen. Less than 24 hours later we were packing up after one of our most efficient pit stops. We had managed to: buy and grill seafood, make the unpardonable mistake to buy fish that was a bit off (the guardian took it), do all our laundry and shower (with a bucket and cold rainwater of course). We were back roughening it up, baby. Ana had given me a fresh haircut using the frontal Petzl as only light (which in the morning we unanimously decided it’s a good tradition to start). 

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La micul dejun ne-am nimerit in cea mai buna pastelaria din Quelimane, tinuta de niste arabi. Cafea buna, un melc cu zahar caramelizat, cremschnit cu vanilie, muffin cu esenta de migdale. Ultima prajiturica din farfurie ne-a cucerit definiv: un cosulet de aluat frantuzesc umplut cu o crema de ou si cocos. Singura solutie pentru a pune capat acestui delir culinar era sa platim nota si sa plecam. Dand bir cu fugitii din calea placerilor vinovate.

The venue for our next breakfast, back in Quelimane, turned out to be the best pastelaria in town (owned by friendly Arabs). Very good cup of coffee, but the pastries! The caramel danish, the mille feuilles with a fragrant vanilla filling, the house special almond muffin. As we sank our teeth into the crispy outside layer of the last pastry on the plate and felt the moist coconut concoction inside, oozing with flavor, we were in love. We knew the only way to put an end to that delicious delirium was to pay our bill and just go. Running away from guilty pleasures that was.

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Brutarii mozambicani se indeletnicesc si cu unele dintre cele mai bune chifle, si o uimitoare varietate de gogosi, biscuti si fursecuri cu preturi intre 2 si 5 Meticali.

The Mozambican bakers also produce some of the best bread rolls and an astonishing variety of doughnuts (eaten for breakfast in a maizena congee), cookies and biscotti, prices ranging from 2 to 5 Meticais. Savoury street food is limited to samosas and hard boiled eggs, the rest are a proof of the Mozambican sweet tooth.

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Drumul pana in Nampula incepe bine, apoi asfaltul colapseaza in cel mai pur stil african intr-un haos de deviatii si camioane, cu toate gropile din Namibia si Africa de Sud la un loc. 

The uneventful tar to Nampula soon collapsed in the purest African spirit, swallowed by gravel and dirt, decorated with all the potholes in the whole of South Africa and Namibia combined. 

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In acea seara am fost nevoiti sa campam la marginea unei plantatii de casava. Ocazie sa testam atitudinea mozambicanilor fata de intrusi. Un satean ne-a zarit dupa doar cateva minute, dar a plecat. S-a intors insotit de alti 3 ceva mai tarziu, insa ne-a cerut cu sfiala permisiunea sa se apropie si sa ne vorbeasca. Le-am spus ca doream sa dormit acolo pentru o noapte si asta a fost tot. Nu a mai venit nimeni sa ne intrebe de sanatate, nici in cursul serii, nici a doua zi dimineata. Daca acestia nu sunt cei mai pasnici africani, nu stim cine ar putea fi.

We had no choice that night but to camp in a field of cassava. Chance to test the people of Mozambique for friendly attitude towards squatters. A villager spotted us after a few minutes, and later came back accompanied by 3 other men. They waved shyly and asked permission to approach, then we had a basic chat, just said we are sleeping there for one night, and that was it. Nobody else came, not that night, not in the morning. If these are not the most peaceful Africans we don’t know who is. 

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Nampula e al treilea oras ca marime din Mozambique, dar mai pustiu chiar decat Quelimane. Cladiri in ruina, strazi pustii, magazine in faliment, dar si cate un exemplu interesant de arta murala din epoca postbelica. In Mozambique aceasta forma de arta a aparut in anii ‘70, in contextul revolutiei si tranzitiei post-coloniale. Restructurarea mediului urban si, sens mai larg, a celor social, economic si politic, a inspirat nasterea unei noi identitati nationale, ba chiar a unul nou stil national. Artistii au folosit tehnici din arta vernaculara (sculptura Makonde, machinamu etc), slogane si simboluri ale dominatiei europene, pentru a investiga mostenirea coloniala si viitorul politic al natiunii. 

Nampula may be Mozambique’s third largest city, but it felt less alive than Quelimane. Slightly run down, a handful of notable buildings, and this interesting mural. If you will be going to Maputo you’ll spot plenty of these. Mural art emerged in Mozambique in the 1970s in the context of the revolutionary struggle and then the transition to a postcolonial society. The renewal of the physical urban environment and, more broadly, of the social, economic and political fabric of the entire country, spawned a national identity, even arguably a national style. The artists used Makonde mapico (mapiko) masquerade or machinamu ancestor figures, slogans and symbols of European domination to investigate the mystical power attributed to colonists and to interrogate the political future of the nation.  

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Am vrut sa testam patiseria locala, dar dezamagire: singurul loc in care erau si scaune arata la fel de comunist ca localurile de pe timpul lui Ceausescu. Parintii ne-au povestit cum resturantele erau goale, meniurile cu pretentii si preturile de speriat. In patiseria in care am intrat niste securisti mozambicani puneau tara la cale; ne-am inghesuit in fata unei farfurioare cu doua fursecuri, care au fost si nasoale pe deasupra. Am tot intalnit astfel de localuri comuniste in Mozambique, fara clienti dar cu preturi de 400 de Meticali pentru niste pui cu sos, adica echivalentul a 200 de chifle babane. Trist.

We wanted to try the local pastelarias, but what a disappointment. The only one where we could sit down and eat was this communist establishment where the pastries (even pastilla de nata) were boring and the clientele looked like the local mother fuckers’ convention. Totally reminding us of our parents stories from the communist Romania, when the restaurants were empty, menus were pretentious and ample and nobody could afford them. We have see plenty of similar places across this part of Mozambique: ancient restaurants and tourist spots where a chicken dish would fare 400 Meticais, in a country where a big bread roll is 5 and a regular one is 2. So 200 of these babies would just buy you a questionable plate of stew and corn meal. Pretty damn sad. 

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Prajituricile de alune, nuci si zahar insa au compensat.

The ground nut and honey cookies were smashing.

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Fructe si legume proaspete se gasesc in functie de regiune, ca in Maroc, cu exceptia portocalelor si bananelor. Asa ca daca vrei ceva anume trebuie sa stai cu ochii in patru: in curand am intrat in patria nucilor de caju, care se cumpara la lighean (Meticais).

Fresh produce is local, just like in Morocco: pineapple, papaya, tomatoes, salad, cucumber, avocado and pumpkin can be found only in certain areas; oranges are available countrywide, as are bananas. Vendors tend to quote fair prices (except some dude who wanted to seel for LOL price of 700 a 50 Meticais machete). Moving further north we finally hit cashew nut country, wich you buy by the 150 Meticais basinet.

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Inca un cameleon adunat din calea masinilor si mutat in tufe. Ne sunt foarte dragi.

Another chameleon moved from the busy road to the safety of the bush. We love these guys!

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