May 12, 2015
I left Mozambique with tears in my eyes.
Sand in my hair that I didn’t want to wash out because I was not ready to let go.
No more tropical gangsters.
No more matapa – the local food that will send you wild
No more tipo tinto – the local rum that may or may not be ethanol and you can buy for 60 mets (2USD) per bottle
No more palm trees
No more beach dogs
No more fish so fresh its practically still moving when you buy it
No more late night parties in tiny stores in the market with a bunch of blurry eyed locals
No more Portuguese
No more quad bikes
No more strange community of people who ditched the boring nature of the first world to lose themselves in paradise
No more denial of the real world
No more dodgy ferry rides to the city to buy the bare necessities
No more diet of onion, tomatoes, pizza and beer.
No more losing weight anyway because its so ridiculously hot.
No more losing hours, days, months to your own oblivion
No more grass huts.
It broke my heart.
But new adventure is on the horizon.
Capetown is fresh. fast. beautiful. hip. cool.
Everything I’m not.
But maybe can be.
Wish me luck.
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