Our Definition of a Wild Evening

Sunday afternoon braai at Jenny's with ample supply of beer and wine
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Brilliant idea to have a cocktail at Hotel Terminus before calling it an evening
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Colorful murals in said hotel's atrium
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Cheap and satisfying entertainment for Ali and Rico

My Girls

Remember just a few precious months ago when I'd complain bitterly about not having any girlfriends in Mozambique? Well, the kick-ass-girl-Gods smiled upon me and now I have some of the most gorgeous, coolest sidekicks ever here in Maputo. Jenny, Lies, Tracy, LacitheCat...I really got lucky on this one.

This past Saturday, Jenny, Lies and I decided to go to a restaurant called The Meat Co. at the newly built Polana Casino on the coast. It was a very chic affair and we all went dressed in black, completely by coincidence. As we walked into the restaurant, everyone wanted to know if we were sisters!

Extra ego boost to the fact that these girls have totally supported me in my fledgling jewelry business. It's a bit hard to see the details in the photos, but Jenny is wearing a turquoise and glass pendant necklace of mine, Lies is wearing a pair of delicate black onyx and Swarovski earrings, and I'm full-out bling in a red chandelier earring and lariat necklace set. If it weren't for these girls and their kind words (and purchases), and those of Tracy and LacitheCat, I don't know if I'd have had the courage to say yes to my new incarnation as jewelry maker...well, at least not this quickly!

Jenny and Ali

Ali and Lies

Lies and Jenny

The Glorious South Africa Road Trip 2006/2007

From start to finish: 3500 km

I have been promising for quite a few days that I will post photos from our road trip through South Africa. After much wrangling with blogger and organizing of files, here is a summed up version of all the fun Ricardo and I had on vacation. Enjoy!

The trip started off bright and early with a flight from Maputo to Joburg. It's only a 50 minute flight, but ridiculously expensive even on LAM, Mozambique's national carrier. Each ticket starts at US $350 round trip because of the SADC protectionist measures in place to save this country's national airline. The only other carrier that flies this route is South African Airways, and they are even more expensive. If the route were to be opened up to South Africa's numerous budget carriers, it would have a whopping positive effect on tourism in Mozambique (hello, beach holiday for overworked Joburg residents) and, although it would also likely result in LAM going out of business, the resulting revenues and new jobs in the tourist sector here would certainly justify the loss of the national carrier, at least in purely economic terms.

So, back to our trip. We were up at 4:30am and I was in a terrible mood after a night of severe allergies. Rico was super patient, as always, and we made it to the airport and then to Joburg without much else to report. Upon arriving, we picked up our rental car - a small, tomato red Kia Picanto - and heaved a collective sigh of relief that we'd packed incredibly light for the trip. The trunk of the Picanto was so unbelivably small it barely fit my duffel bag and Rico's backpack. Seriously, I don't know what those car designers were thinking.

First stop on our itinerary was to meet my blogging friend Marcia, who is a life coach and could easily be crowned Southern Africa's organizing queen. We drove to their house just a few minutes from the airport and were greeted with homemade muffins, tea and coffee, thoughtful Christmas gifts, and loads of interesting conversation. Together we represented 4 different countries and had a great time talking about our views on and experiences in Africa and beyond.

Another happy blog-girl reunion.

After our breakfast at Marcia's, Rico and I hit the road and promptly got lost on the complex freeway ring that surrounds Joburg. Thankfully our time on the wrong highway only took us about 20 minutes out of our way. Once we finally got oriented, we headed south for some 400 km to Bloemfontein, the capital of the Free State.

For reasons I don't fully understand, (although not to say I don't agree from what we experienced), Bloemfontein has the reputation as the worst city in South Africa. Think of it as that country's Flint, Michigan or perhaps some forgotten city in the deep South (US, that is).

The view of a nuclear plant from our hotel room was a nice touch.

Bear in mind that it was Christmas Eve when we rolled up in Bloem. Everything was closed and we were literally the only car on the road, drawing lots of attention to ourselves amongst the few people out on the streets who, by the looks of things, didn't have many options for a holiday dinner with family. Our hotel was in the middle of downtown, and area that wasn't exactly the most spruced up or tourist oriented.

Rico and I got settled for the evening and immediately called Mr. Delivery to try and find some appropriate food for a Christmas meal. The only restaurant open was Spur, "The Official Restaurant of the South African Family", a steak house that is an Applebee's-type offering only with an American Indian theme. Each Spur restaurant has its own special name like Montana Spur or Running Bull Spur or, as in the case of the only Spur in Mozambique, Utah Spur. Go figure. Anyhow, it was our only option for a meal so we ordered 2 takeaway steaks with onion rings and chips. We forgot to take a picture, but I can say it was the first and likely the last time I'll ever have Christmas dinner out of a box with plastic cutlery while sitting on a hotel bed in a city not my own.

After Bloemfontein, we set out for a long day of driving to enter and cross a large part of the Karoo, a semi-arid expanse of sandstone and basalt that covers much of the middle of South Africa. In some parts, the Karoo is pretty barren and flat; all you see for miles around are flocks of sheep and the occasional windmill powering a lone pump. Then there are truly spectacular areas full of mesas and heavy cumulus clouds that fill the horizon and manage to give New Mexico a run for its money.

It was in one of the more hilly areas that we came to Beaufort West, a small artsy town that is the gateway to the Klein Karoo (meaning Small Karoo - there is also a Great Karoo in South Africa). There we stayed at the Beaufort Manor, a posh guesthouse with what is possibly the world's saltiest saltwater pool. After a mid-day dip in the water, Rico joked that he now knew what I'd look like as an old lady - my hair was completely white, encrusted with a layer of opaque salt crystals.

Our White Christmas ended up being from salt, not snow.

Aside from a little problem we had with Christmas Day dinner - the hotel restaurant had alreayd been fully booked and they'd neglected to leave enough space to accomodate guests...we ended up being "accomodated" after the receptionist told us to go look around the town to see if anything was open and, when nothing was, they let us have our paid spot at dinner after all the other patrons had eaten - it was a pleasant stay. Not much to report given that it was a holiday and everything from restaurants to tourist attractions was closed.

We hit the road and drove through some incredible mountains on our way to Knysna on the coast. The rocks were buckled and folded as if God had pulled out a long piece of taffy and molded it until just right. It made for some pretty amazing driving.

Our little Kia seemed even smaller on this road.

The geological geek in me did some research about these mountains and I found out some pretty amazing facts. The coastal mountains of South Africa are some of the oldest formations on earth, lifted up by the shifting plates of Gondwanaland millions of years ago. At the time these mountains were formed, the would have been trumped in height only by the Himalayas and the highest peaks of the Andes. Since the South African mountains are so much older than any of the others on earth, they've had a jump start on erosion. Today, after countless millenia of wind and rain, they barely register on the list of the world's tallest mountains.

After a day's driving through the mountains and an exciting descent on a fog-laden road, we arrived in Knysna (n-EYE-zna). Knysna is on the coast and is one of the preferred destinations for vacationers from Gauteng (the most wealthy Province in SA; contains gold mines, Johannesburg and an insane amount of 4x4s). In an attempt to escape the hordes of holiday makers with boats and campers, we took a drive down the coast to see the sights.

Key attractions included Monkey Land, a sanctuary where primates from all over the world are rescued from unmentionable conditions in zoos and people's homes where they are no longer wanted as pets. We took a hike through the sanctuary and got to see all sorts of cool monkeys and lemurs.

This bespectacled guy came from a zoo in Israel, while his South American monkey friends used to be somebody's pet.

We continued down the road and decided to take a scenic detour through a Fynbos reserve and a virgin coastal forest.

You know how they say couples begin to resemble each other? I think Rico and I are venturing down that path.

After this lookout point we continued into the Eastern Cape Province to visit the world's largest arch span bridge that doubles as the world's highest commercial bungee jump point. Rico and I weren't remotely interested in taking the plunge, but we did sit and have a beer while watching all of the other fools flinging themselves into the gorge.

It doesn't matter how many meters down...I'd never have the courage to bungee jump.

On our way back towards Knysna we discovered yet another scenic route that was parallel to the canyon with the bridge. We drove through the forest and found the river that carved out the gorge.

Many of the trees in this forest are endemic to coastal South Africa, including rare cycads.

We checked out the amber colored water of the river, then decided to follow the road signs to a place called Nature's Valley. It was the first proper beach we visited in South Africa and the cloudy skies cleared up just in time for us to explore the estuary, complete with sand dunes along the banks where the river pours into the ocean.

Just a little more wind and I'd be rocking a full-on side ponytail with wave bangs.

As you can see from my sweet 1984-inspired hairdo, it was extremely windy at Nature's Valley. Actually all of South Africa was really windy, but the beaches were beautiful despite the flying sand and chill that many times we had to brave.

The only thing missing for Rico was a sailboat...

The beaches were also chock-full of beached jellyfish of all sizes. I was fascinated by these creatures and, in the absence of seashells to collect (my usual beach pastime), I went from jellyfish to jellyfish checking out the tentacles, body color and size, occasionally giving one or another a prod with my Havaiana-protected foot.

These jellies turn reddish purple with sun exposure and were everywhere on the beach. A lifeguard told us it was the first time they'd ever appeared in this part of South Africa, surely an effect of global warming.

Some of the jellyfish were easily the size of a person's head, while others were so small and fragile the only way you could see them was if the sun's angle was just right.

My sandal, but not my handprint. Although beached jellies don't sting, I wasn't brave enough to risk it.

Once we'd had enough sand and sun at Nature's Valley, we drove back to Knysna and headed to a beach on the other side of the town called Breton-on-Sea. It was a posh little community full of nicely kept summer homes, with a nice beach where para-gliders and kite surfers took good advantage of all the wind.

A wind sports paradise.

An interesting feature of Breton-on-Sea is that you can easily see evidence of a previous sea level from thousands of years ago. Now the water level is much lower and there are some amazing rock formations exposed.

Tide pools and crashing waves on an ancient seabed now exposed.

The next morning it was time for us to leave Knysna. The weather was beautiful and we decided to visit Wilderness beach before heading up the mountains again to a town called Oudtshoorn.

It was about 11am and the sun was out full-force. We'd run out of sunscreen so I asked Rico to buy a bottle when we stopped for gas along the highway. He came out of the convenience store and said there was only one type of sunscreen in the little shop, that it looked a little vagabundo. Surely, I told him, some cheap-o sunscreen was better than getting terribly burned on the beach.

We found a spot to park the car and made our way down to a gorgeous expanse of sand. Rico asked me to put some sunscreen on his back and passed me the bright orange bottle of TropiFun. I squeezed out a big dollop of cream into my palm, took one look, and immediately broke into hysterical giggles. The sunscreen was glimmering gold and full of sparkles.

"What's so funny?" Rico asked, his back to me and unable to see the glittery contents of my hand. I could barely speak between belly-laughs.

"Look," I managed to sputter, and showed Rico my hands which at this point looked as if they'd been dipped in gold leaf.

"Que merda!" Rico grabbed the orange bottle and examined it. "So that's what 'shimmer' means. I knew this stuff was worthless. Puta que pariu!"

I made a move to put the glittery cream on Rico's back. "Oh no you don't," he said twisting his torso away from me.

"Rico, it's better than getting burned and it's much better than getting cancer. A little shimmer won't kill you. Besides, we don't know these people and we'll never see them again in our lives."

Poor Rico heaved a sigh and consented. "Do it. Fine." He grimaced as if I were rubbing acid into his back and I couldn't help myself and burst out laughing again. From his shoulders to the elastic band of his swim trunks, Rico was a vision in gold.

Then came time for the big question. "Amor, can I blog about this?"

And thus the word "shimmer" made its way into Rico's English vocabulary.

After a long pause, knowing an affirmative answer would earn him some serious points, Rico nodded yes. "Thank God none of my friends back in Rio read this," he muttered. "I'd never hear the end of it."

The beach was great, but we had to leave only after about an hour to get on the highway again. We traveled up the mountains along an narrow and twisting road, enjoying the views of the beach we'd just been at hundreds of meters below. After crossing the mountains, the scenery changed radically and looked remarkably like parts of Northern New Mexico, in particular the Jemez Valley where my Dad and I love to go camping.

Taken from a car window, but you get the idea - red dirt, dotted green vegetation, nice valley.

This was the countryside just before Outdshoorn, a small town known for its ostrich farms (and whose name we were unable to correctly pronounce for most of the trip). In Outdshoorn we stayed at an unbelievable guest house, Foster's Manor. It was built in 1902 during the height of the ostrich feather boom for the Foster family, who apparently were doing quite well for themselves. At that time, a handful of plumes from a male ostrich could easily fetch 1,000 pounds on the international feather market! The guesthouse was amazing, in particular our suite. When the manager opened the door to the room we could hardly believe our eyes.

And all this for less than US $100 per night!

The suite was easily over 80 square meters, with 2 huge beds, a sitting area, a bathroom with a funky claw-footed tub and not 1 but 2 verandas.

The other bed and a fireplace - total luxury.

Entryway of Foster's Manor, decorated in period antiques.

Beautiful painted tiles on Foster's Manor porch.

We had the best meal in Outdshoorn at a fancy Russian-owned restaurant called Kalinka. Rico had a grilled ostrich fillet (it is actually red meat and tastes a bit like beef) and I had roast duck with cherry and sage sauce. Rico and I shared a rocket salad (a.k.a. arugula - my favorite green) and some local Karoo red wine. Let me say that this was one of the most fabulous meals of my entire life. And do you know how much the whole thing cost? US $30. Unbelievable.

One of the main attractions in this part of South Africa is to go to an ostrich farm. These road signs are everywhere to help tourists. Rico and I thought they were hilarious, definitely not your run of the mill road icon.

Yes, the sign shows a person riding an ostrich. More on that later.

Ostriches are such weird animals. They are the only 2-toed birds in the world, and they can literally rip your guts out with said toes (they more resemble dinosaur claws) if they feel threatened.

What? Huh? Did someone say there was food over here?

Ostriches are also greedy little things. One of the activities on our farm tour was to have a neck massage from the birds. Basically you'd back up to a fence with a bucket of ostrich feed and the birds would come peck up the pellets over your shoulders.

Looks like fun, no?

I didn't try this activity because apparently ostriches fancy shiny objects like earrings, and I had all 6 holes in my ears filled with silver. I didn't feel like risking it, so I watched as the family of German tourists in our group experienced the avian neck massage.

Another cool thing about ostriches is that their eggs are not only huge - the equivalent of 24 chicken eggs - they are also super strong. Each individual egg can handle 90kg of direct pressure, a necessary quality to survive mama sitting on her eggs to incubate them.

We had a warning from our guide that these eggs were well past their prime, so please tread lightly.

Then there was the ostrich riding in itself, confirming that the road signs outside the farm had not been misleading advertisements. Initially Rico and I had been all excited about the prospect of riding an ostrich ourselves. However, once we saw what the entire process entailed we were quickly turned off the idea. You know how ostriches stick their heads in the sand when they think they're in danger? Well, the farm hands used the same principle to subdue the ostriches so that adventurous tourists could climb up on their fluffy backs for a photo, covering the poor birds' heads with a burlap sack so that they were semi-tricked out of their stress. The sight of an animal so freaked out that it needed a burlap sack, just so a person could get a thrill and a good photo op (albeit without the bird's big eyes and beaky head), was sort of sickening.

Usually the tourists are allowed to ride the birds, not just sit on them while 2 men hold their long, knobby legs and desperately try to keep them in one place. But on the day we visited it was too hot and there was concern the ostriches would overheat if ridden. Instead, we watched a demonstration of how it's done, courtesy of the farm hands.

Anything goes for a buck these days...

They say it's just like riding a horse. Push the neck to the left, the bird turns left. Push to the right, it turns right. And to stop the ostrich? You grab its neck and pull it all the way back, so that the bird's head is almost resting upside-down on it's feathered back. I happened to take a terribly disturbing picture of the farm hand making the ostrich stop running and decided not to post because I hate looking at it.

So enough ostriches, time for some wine! Cape Town was our next stop, and we decided to take Route 62 which is a famous wine route, specializing actually in port and brandy. We stopped at several cellars for (free!) tastings and ended up buying several bottles of wine, including some of the premium reserve vintages for a whopping US $10. Seriously, wine in South Africa is incredibly delicious and even more incredibly priced. Our favorite was a tawny port from the BoPlaas cellar in Calitzdorp.

3 of our favorites, including a sparkling pinot noir that we had on New Year's.

One cool thing about South Africa is that it has more floral diversity than any other place in the world. In a 15km radius of Calitzdorp, there are more species of plants and flowers than in the whole of Europe! Can you belive that?

After a lovely afternoon drive, we finally arrived in Cape Town.

View from Chapman's Peak Drive, just minutes from the house we stayed in.

We stayed at the house of a woman Rico met on a plane from São Paulo to Joburg in 2005. We had the place all to ourselves because Rico's friend was on a 6-week holiday in Cuba. The house was in a place called Noordhoek, described as the only remaining rural beach in the city. The beach was huge - I've never seen so much sand in my life - and full of people on horseback and doing kite surfing practice.

On this particular day, although you can't really tell from the photo, I was dressed in watermelon colors. I was inspired by Rico's choice of clothing the day before. Nothing like mis-matching clothes while on vacation.

It was so nice to be in a home for a few days, despite all the great hotels we stayed in on the trip. Rico and I went to the organic market and bought tuna and fresh pasta for dinner, and a selection of greek yogurt with honey for breakfast every day. We also washed a load of laundry in a actual washing machine - a big luxury since our machine in Maputo has been on the fritz for over 6 months and we've been living with hand washed clothes.

One of the must-see spots on our itinerary was the Cape of Good Hope since Rico is a sailor and of Portuguese descent.

Over 500 years ago, the Portuguese navigators had this view for the first time.

There are some serious waves in this place, as it is where 2 main ocean currents collide. Contrary to what many people think, it is not, in fact, the Southernmost tip of the African Continent. That geographical point is several kilometers to the East at a point called Cape Agulhas.

There is a large colony of Chacma Baboons at the Cape Point. They are unique amongst primates because they venture onto the seashore to hunt for molluscs to eat.

Rico and I agreed that the Portuguese sailors like Diaz and da Gama were absolutely insane to take ships out in these rough seas in an age of no GPS, no radio communication, no accurate maps, and not even any predecessors to give information about the destination.

These waves are not for beginners.

At the Cape of Good Hope we climbed up a hill to get a view of the entire Cape Point area. Once again it was incredibly windy and cold despite the full sun.

Nice flyaway hair, Ali.

Rock hyraxes, or "dassies" inhabit the cliffs along the Cape. Many of their behaviors reminded us of our cats, although I doubt they are related species.

View of Cape Point. Somewhere back there is an essential lighthouse.

Serious sea foam as the waves crash into the rock cliff.

After many sights and adventures, it was time to say goodbye to 2006 and ring in the New Year. Our chosen place of celebration was a predictable but reliable tourist institution: the Victoria and Alfred Waterfront.

The Waterfront by day, with Table Mountain rising in the background.

We joined thousands of party-goers from South Africa and all around the world to have some drinks, dance to 80's and 90's flashback hits, watch some fireworks, and try to stay warm despite the brisk wind that evening.

A wool shawl in the middle of summer? Only in CPT.

On New Year's Day we decided to do one last tourist-y thing while in Cape Town and headed up Table Mountain to go on the cableway. When we arrived, the line for tickets stretched halfway around the building and then snaked a significant way down the long access road. Rico and I took one look at each other and decided there was no way we'd waste the day standing in a 3-hour plus line for a ride on a cable car. The view from the ticket station was nearly as good, without any of the associated frustration or cost.

I wish this vacation would last forever!

Happy 2007, everyone, although seriously belated wishes on our part. If you've made it to this point in the post, congratulations, you have the patience of a saint. If you just looked at the pictures, I don't blame you. :) Hope you enjoyed our trip - we certainly did!

A Ring, A Retch and a Resolve to Feel It All

It’s been a while since my last post. I’ve rationalized this absence by telling myself that I’ve been on blog holiday, but really it’s because I’ve felt overwhelmed lately. Overwhelmed in a good way, mostly, but I’ll admit it’s been a mixed bag. In the last month I’ve battled cynicism in my professional life, considered a major career change, had a resurgence in allergy attacks, Ricardo came back from Brasil, I got engaged, spent the holidays with my fiancée but far from the rest of my family, went on a road trip to South Africa, came back to Maputo and realized that real life – and a series of uncertainties – lie ahead and must be dealt with, one way or another.

So much has been happening that I don’t know where to start writing (or e-mailing for that matter – I’m dreadfully behind in responding to the messages in my inbox, and the last group e-mail I sent to friends and family was at least 9 months ago). Not only is there a lot to tell, sometimes it all gets to be so overwhelming that I start to have out-of-body type reactions and then, strangely, cease to feel anything. No excitement, no frustration, no anticipation…almost numb.

It’s as if I’m living out a story that I’ve seen time and time again. I know what will happen, I know each step of the plot and anticipate each twist and turn without surprise. It’s almost like déjà vu, my life a second time around only without the emotion and thrill of the original. It seems ridiculous to me that I could have such out-of-body moments given the adventure and newness of a lot of the major parts of my life right now.

I think the worst bit was right after Ricardo proposed to me. I’d be elated for a couple of hours, then sort of switch off. Then something would happen at work to really press my buttons and I’d want to pull out my hair, only to be “above it all” the next minute. The road trip to South Africa helped a lot, and I’ve felt much more grounded and like the real-time protagonist in my own life again since returning.

So all of this to say that I’ve got a lot to share, but have relieved myself of the pressure of having to capture every last bit in writing. Just feeling and concentrating on being in the moment is my main task right now. But I do have a few updates. J

First, thank you all so much for your lovely comments after I posted that Ricardo proposed to me. I promised more details, so here they are!

Ricardo arrived in Maputo on the afternoon of December 17th. I met him at the airport and after a lovely hello kiss we headed to my friend Jenny’s house for a special seafood lunch (suitcases and all!). It was a big day – not only was Ricardo arriving (and all my girlfriends meeting him for the first time after months of hearing me go on about my carioca), our friend Lacithecat was leaving Maputo after 3 months in Mozambique as a volunteer consultant for a local organization. We had a great time at the lunch and indulged in Jenny’s delicious cooking – clams, coconut rice, prawns, tabouli and a gigantic chocolate coconut cake for dessert. After all the food we could handle and a couple of cold beers for good measure, Ricardo and I left to go back to our flat.

Once upstairs Rico started unpacking his suitcase to show me all the goodies he and his family had bought for me. I got a beautiful black sundress from Rico’s that he got at his aunt’s store (she is a very successful fashion designer in Rio), some yummy natural shampoo and conditioner from Rico’s mom and grandma, and a big shipment of beads that I’d ordered online and sent to my dad in New Mexico, who in turn shipped them down to Ricardo in Brasil. Obviously I had a lot of exciting things to look through. Rico put all of my presents on the table in the living room and, as I had my head down going through all of the lovely things, he came behind me and gave me a hug. I looked up from the table and saw his hands in front of me holding a small black box. He opened it to reveal two beautiful wedding bands.

I turned around to face Rico and he said, “You’re already the woman of my life, but I want it to be forever. Will you marry me?”

Of course I said yes and gave him a huge hug and kiss. He slid the ring on my finger (it’s a little big – needs to be adjusted once we are in Rio) and put his on as well. The rings are so cool! Both are quite simple, but very modern looking. They are dual-tone, with half the band in yellow gold and the other half in white gold. The white gold half ends in an arrow point just off center. On my ring there is a small diamond in the white gold part, just before it tapers off into the yellow gold. I love it!

Rico and I got on the phone and called my dad, my mom, my grandmother, his mom, his dad, Beth (the woman who takes care of our house in Rio) and our close friends here in Maputo. After announcing the big news, we went out for dinner at Costa do Sol, the restaurant on the coast where I had my first meal in Mozambique and where my relationship with Rico began.

After several anniversary and birthday dinners celebrated there, we’ve gotten to know the manager of Costa do Sol. Every time we go to the restaurant, Sérgio comes to our table to greet us and we simply tell him that our meal is in his hands. He never disappoints. Our engagement dinner was a huge platter of grilled crayfish, shrimp, squid, and (of course) french fries. We had a bottle of white wine with dinner, then some port for dessert, then shared some shots of Amarula and some strawberry liqueur with Sérgio. We went back home lovestruck, slightly tipsy, and full of the Indian Ocean’s best. Once at our flat we enjoyed another bottle of white wine and spent the rest of the evening listening to music on my iPod in the living room. I even got Rico to sway with me to a few of the slow songs, no small feat for a man who is one of approximately 156 known brasilians that do.not.dance. All in all, a wonderful night.

So I went into the detail of our engagement evening (well – not *all* of the details, but my grandmother reads this blog for heaven’s sake!) to set the context for a very funny story. Thinking about it now, perhaps this isn’t the best story to share given that Grammy reads this occasionally, as do my parents, and Rico’s mom and grandmother, and several of my other relatives… Oh well. At the risk of tarnishing my reputation, this is what happened the day after our engagement.

Rico and I woke up around noon still glowing from our big news but also quite tired and, in my case, super hung over. Not surprising considering how much we ate and drank the night before, but it’s rare for me to feel quite so sick. We managed to get ourselves out of bed and met my girlfriends for lunch at a Japanese restaurant before Lacithecat’s flight home that afternoon. The entire time in the taxi on the way downtown I felt super sick to my stomach. Seeing sashimi and smelling all of the soy sauce at the restaurant made me feel even greener. I declined to eat anything and just sipped on a coke. I showed off my ring to the girls and told them the entire story. Before long Lacithecat had to leave to catch her plane, and Rico and I were off to FAO to pick up a check for the current contract we are working on.

Once at FAO, we had to sit in the accountant’s office for about 10 minutes while she searched around for our check and then for the appropriate person to sign it. To me it felt more like an hour. My stomach was doing flip-flops and I was dizzy. I’m not one to get sick often, and I know infallibly when a wave of nausea means business. The women’s bathroom at FAO is in an entirely different section of the building from the accountant’s office – through several sets of doors that must be opened with a staff security card – and I knew I’d never make it in time if I had to hurl. I closed my eyes and breathed, praying not to be sick right then and there. Rico stroked my hand and whispered encouraging words. Mercifully the accountant came back just as I thought I was going to have to make use of her potted fig tree. I put the check in my purse, grabbed Rico’s hand and dashed out of the building as quickly as my high heels would allow.

I’d hoped a bit of fresh air would make me feel better, but it was so hot and humid that it was absolutely no relief. I sat on a small wall in front of the building and tried to take deep breaths as we waited for our taxi to arrive. It was to no avail. I felt my heartbeat quicken, my palms broke out in a clammy sweat, and I started gagging. “Rico!” I managed to call out, “I’m going to throw up!!” With fabulous style and grace, I proceeded to vomit in the street right in front of FAO, to the delight of the building’s security guards, the receptionist, and our taxi driver who pitched up just as I started round two of being sick. It must have been quite the sight. Rico proved that he’s a wonderful fiancée and held my hair back and helped me clean the spatter off my dress *before* he started laughing uncontrollably. I do admit I joined in the laughter, despite the temptation to succumb to a huge wave of shame and hide for the rest of the month.

There’s nothing like a good vomit (amazing how you feel instantly better, no?), and I took extra enjoyment in the irony of the situation. Of all the places I could have gotten ill it turned out to be in front of FAO, one of the main NGOs involved in development work in Mozambique and around the world, the perfect embodiment of what is behind my terrible cynicism as of late. Regardless, it was a funny end to a perfect engagement story – and a good reminder not to mix wine, port and Amarula ever again! J

So there you go. Two stories for the price of one. In my next post I do promise pictures and tales from our road trip to South Africa. All I need is a little patience and some cooperation from blogger, and you’ll be able to share in our holiday fun.

I hope you are all well and that 2007 brings peace and fulfilment.

Going South

Happy Holidays and New Year to you all.

Ricardo and I leave early tomorrow morning on a 10-day road trip to South Africa. We will fly to Joburg, then rent a car and drive the 1500km to Cape Town in time for reveillon, then backtrack to come home by the 3rd.

I'm really looking forward to some time away from my routine and away from Mozambique. I'm going to miss the boys, even the bad one, but I need to get away and renew my energies.

Much love, see you in 2007.

One Bad, One Sweet

This is the Bad Boy, lounging in the most appropriate spot for a cat - the dish drying rack in the kitchen. The Bad Boy has been particuarly naughty these days. The current tally is one revenge poo and one revenge pee. Can anybody explain to me how a cat that is still technically a kitten can expel over a liter of liquid?

This is the Sweet Boy, who has learned in the last week how to turn on the faucet of the sink so that he can play with the water stream and douse everything in the kitchen in the process. My guess is that the Bad Boy put him up to it. :)

The Beginning of Forever

This past Sunday, just hours after arriving in Maputo, Ricardo asked me to marry him. Of course I said yes. :)

Right now we are enjoying our time together and celebrating the big news. I promise details in the next few days.

Hope you all are well!

On the Upswing

This week I am feeling slightly less pessimistic. Thank God. Even I couldn't stand my own cynicism last week - it was really bad. Everywhere I looked I saw unsolveable problems, corruption, poverty...the whole 9 yards.

Over the weekend I went out with the girls and had a great time. In the last month I've actually developed a social life so I've been getting out of the house on a regular basis to go dancing, have dinner, hang out and have drinks and listen to live music. We went to a great jazz bar on Friday night called Gil Vicente and enjoyed open mic night. The first act was wonderful - a woman from South Africa singing in Zulu who was full of attitude and had a beautiful soprano voice. This woman and her band, along with the lovely company of my girls, helped me get out of my funk.

Today I am off to do a field visit for the project we are currently doing on horticultural production feasibility in the green zones of Maputo. I must get my things ready for the visit, but wanted to say hello, thanks for your comments, and that despite my absence on your blogs and a general lack of e-mails to friends and family, I am still reading, appreciating and thinking of you all.

Would you like some cynicism with your development?

Sometimes I wonder if the persistent cynicism I feel is a sign that my time here in Mozambique should be up. I've dealt with mild pessimism and the notion that my efforts and those of people around me are mostly futile since about my 3rd month in Africa. I think a good dose of cynicism is actually good when you are doing development-type work. It keeps your feet on the ground and helps you from coming down with too much of an I-can-save-the-world complex. However the kind of cynicism I'm experiencing right now is much beyond this healthy dose.

It reminds me of my last months of work directing an HIV prevention program at an NGO back in Austin. My ability to see a positive trend in our efforts had completely disappeared. I was burned out, unmotivated and consumed by the feeling that all of those billions of dollars spent on health education and risk reduction were in vain. The solution seemed relatively simple - get people to use a condom, get people to not share needles, encourage people to get tested, help people to create viable alternatives to selling their bodies for sex, decrease the shame surrounding homosexuality so that men aren't compelled to have anonymous sex through a hole in a bathroom stall, help people start talking about these issues instead of ignoring them and assuming they aren't at risk.

And yet, despite all of the organizations staffed with competent people, despite all of the money and awareness campaigns and celebrity messages, the number of new infections in the US has been steady for the last 10 years at 40,000 new HIV cases per year. I began to realize it was a complex and ultimately uphill battle. In the end, I found it hard to see past the larger statistics and knew it was time for me to move on.

I feel the same way about the situation in Mozambique, and by extension much of Africa. The problems here are also hugely complex - absolute poverty, corruption, disease, famine, lack of education, gender inequalities - yet you'd think with the billions and billions of dollars being thrown at this place, there might be some positive trends by now. I suppose there are when you look at isolated cases - Mozal is a successful aluminium smelter that accounts for a large part of the country's GDP, there have been several interesting microcredit initiatives aimed at providing credit to the poor, the cashew industry is slowly recovering and might regain the pre-independence production levels in a few years. There are also some donor programs that have met their objectives and look quite good on paper or through a quick site visit.

The problem with these success stories, however, is two-fold. On the one hand I don't see these initiatives will be sustainable in the long-run. They are up and running now because there is some foreigner behind the efforts, be it a donor organization, a multi-national company or an individual investor. The impulse to move forward is not coming from Mozambicans for the most part, although most of these programs do involve some sort of training scheme whereby ownership will be transferred to locals after a few years' time.

The second problem is highlighteed by the question "Who is really benefiting from these initiatives?" The more time I spend here and the more experience I have with different projects and programs, the more I believe that the ultimate beneficiaries of development in Mozambique are foreigners and foreign companies. I do understand the "trickle-down" effect, whereby the local population benefits from private-sector economic development. I can see how a factory worker or a miner or a smallscale farmer can earn $100 more per year because of some of these initiatives. However, who is really getting the good deal? I'd argue it's the owner of the cashew processing plant, the multi-national mining company behind Mozal, or even the director of the NGO that is ostensibly "helping people" yet earning a $10,000 per month salary, living in a cushy condominium protected by electric fencing, driving a brand new Land Cruiser and making plans for his next posting in 2 years' time.

The more I really examine my own work here, I realize that my efforts have led to the same conclusions - foreigners getting the overwhelming benefits of development efforts. In the tea factory, the owners are all foreigners. Yes, there is an outgrower scheme to support local farmers, and yes there will be macro-economic benefits for Mozambique, but the real people that will benefit are the company owners. I think about the cotton ginnery we've just received funding for. Same story. The timber project we've got in the works is also the same, with the investors standing to make millions and millions of dollars if the venture is successful.

I understand that the basic idea of private sector development is that the investors should get a return on the money they've put in, that this provides the incentive for efficient and sustainable growth that will in turn lead to progress in the country. I get this, and despite all of the problems, I still do believe that private sector development is the "least bad" solution at this time. All of the others - socialism, state subsidies, donor support from the international community - lead to a cycle of dependence that, in my opinion, undermines any chance of Mozambicans embracing a spirit of sustainable entrepreneurship and development on their own terms. As long as there are handouts with no strings attached other than those that satisfy outsiders' terms and conditions, I am convinced that the problems will go on.

And yet I also firmly believe that the current path we are on will not lead to a positive future for Mozambique. I imagine the country in 10, 20, 30 year's time and see the same inequalities, the same poverty, the same preventable illnesses and lack of education. The only difference is that I see most of the land being owned by foreigners, most of the population working in association with some foreign-owned project or company, and most of the revenues being somehow channeled outside the country. I look at all this and begin to understand how neo-colonialism is a frighteningly real trend in Mozambique...

The more I think about it, the more I am convinced that I do not have a role to play in the development of this country if I truly believe that the driving impulse of economic growth should come from and ultimately benefit Mozambicans. I am just another player in the game, inadvertently contributing to the same end I so love to criticize.