Mwanza Border

03.01.2012

Early rise. Around 4.15 we were (night guard and me) heading to Chimoio bus station. Me and my backpack got a seat (meaning we had to stick together for the whole trip, me squeezing my legs tight), on the last row, right-hand side. I could get a decent price, after rough bargaining in portuguese (so lucky to be able to 'speak' portuguese!!!)

Landscape was changing to a more mesopotamic and greener area. Around 8am we ran out of petrol and stood there doing nothing. After a while, the driver sent two guys walking to the nearest station (which was around 50km). While waiting for a miracle to happen, I conversated with other passengers (all local people). Half an our later, a petrol truck drove past us and stopped. (Imagine the odds of that happening!) 

Blah blah blah (Dear reader: I'm not in the mood of describing this moment, I beg your pardon)

Hit the road Jack. 

We went to look up the two guys, who were actually sitting beside a baobab chatting. Put in the words of a fellow passenger: 'The truck went past them and they didn't react, são umas batatas'.

The rest of the trip I had some amusing conversation that compiled: Argentina, cows, Mozambique, marrying customs, Maraddona, discrimination, local languages…

Noon. We were now in Tete. I was accompanied to the chapa station that was about 600 metres (in which I was asked to show my passport twice) from where we had been dropped off. 

It was so humid that I didn't even make an attempt to arrange my clothes. My thai pants had a thin layer of dust that further darkened the already brown fabric.

I was offered the front seat (I couldn't refuse this time). The road to the border was ok, it was evident that white people were not commonly seen around those areas. Kids were quite excited about me and about me taking pictures of them. 

When I finally made it to the border, stamped my exit and was about to leave, a Mozambican policeman sssss'd me (calling me with a ssss sound). I was really concerned (probably the AK-47 he was carrying had something to do about it) about what me might ask me, but it turned out he wanted my phone number (he wanted to visit Argentina and had no-one to show him around).

Malawi.

WOW. 

From the moment I stepped into the Malawian side of the border, I felt somewhere else. 

People greeted with a broad smile in a simple but rather pleasant English.

[Inmigration process]

Bought a Coke for 30MK and some beef+onion+chinese sauce fried empanadas.

Took a minibus to Blantyre and got to Doogles (a beautiful hostel run by a Peruvian/Malawian guy), near the bus station. I wasn't sure about how to get there and so an old man walked with me. 

Went straight to the bar and asked Luke (bar tender) to serve me an ice-cold Coke. It cost 150MK. Had a loooooong, cleansing shower and headed to bed almost without catching my breath.