Meet neighbour in the corridor. She being a little old lady. Boy. Can she snore. I mean. Seriously snore. Cabin walls are paper thin. You can hear everything. And I mean everything. Toilet paper being ripped from its roll. Oh yes. That thin. Cheekily joke with her about keeping me awake last night with her loud snoring. She quickly retorts, “We were doing a duet!”.
Touche.
Short city tour of Maputo before departing for Swaziland early afternoon. The storm front from yesterday has passed. Normal service is resumed. Blue sky. Sun. Drive along the Marginal – the coast road. Exactly like Salvador, Brasil. The whole beach is grotty and littered with human detritus.
Fisherman pick fish out of their nets. The only sign of activity.
Market stall holder hermetically seals bags of nuts by melting the plastic bag over a candle to seal the ends.
See the Angolan basketball team in one of the hotels. Souvenir sellers are being kept back from their hotel by a security guard brandishing a big stick. Looks like he’ll have no hesitation whatsoever in using it if they take a step closer.
Pass Gustav Eiffel’s Iron House. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Until they realised that a house made of iron was probably not best built in a hot country.
It says something about a city when the highlight of the tour is a visit to a 5* hotel. Canadian tour leader tries on jewellery in hotel shop. On seeing me, she delights in telling me, “For our engagement, darling.”. Oh. Crap.
Another old lady tells me the other old ladies love me. Have a fan club. I’ve lent some cash to Miss Daisy as she’s running low. She has pleasure in announcing to everyone, “He’s my banker”.
At least that’s what I think she said.
