…then I would have been able to post much sooner. Alas, it is not. Nor is it a coconut, and so I have not been able to get to a computer until just now to post on experiences had so far.
This morning saw me walking the better part of an hour to get to the only available internet in town, only to have the power fail across town before I was 5min into my typing. So I really have not been a slacker, I promise.
Vilanculos is tiny – far tinier than I had expected, but also with far less beer-guzzling South African 4x4ers than the guidebook warns you of. The people are warm and friendly and some of the most convincing salesmen of beads and batik and woodcraft that I have yet met. Resulting in a new set of beads and small batik of a boat sailing to Bazaruto joining my luggage. The backpackers I am staying at, Zombie Cucumber (yes, that is rally it’s name) is very nice, with mosquito nets protecting the soft skin of the uninitiated against the dozens of mosquitos crowded against it in the night trying to get a quick suck.
The beaches here are every bit as beautiful and white-sand-azure-sea idyllic as the tourism photos suggest. Completing the picture are brightly coloured fishing boats here and there and the Archipelago itself sitting just in view across the sea, some 25km or so away. That should also put an end to the pre-trip argument between John and Jonathan – you can in fact see islands that distant across the sea. I have also managed to mildly burn the back of my legs, something of a standard activity on my travels, it seems, but I have since put my long pants back on and am using sunscreen appropriately. It is also not a bad burn, before those who know my propensity for causing disaster consider medical evacuation.
Travelling alone and having only a basic grasp of the language has also made me something of a paranoid traveller when walking up and down roads by myself, but this is gradually starting to wane, as people have been nothing but polite and cheerful everywhere I have gone, making me feel more like a grumpy sock sometimes and embarrassed by my initial paranoia. To be honest, I think that Ernest the policeman is the primary culprit for my distrust of the people I pass, but in truth this has been nothing but a place filled with smiles and warmth.