March 28, 2007: Maputo, Mozambique

I'm awoken by the screaming laughter, rhymes and playing of children. Seems there is a playground next door to our hostel. Up and out, we begin our day.
Before we've arrived in Mo'bique, Tessa explains the currency to me-- apparently they've recently issued new currency where 25 Metacais (pronounced Metacash) is equal to the dollar, but the old currency (also called Metacais) is still in use in coins, so there are 3 extra zero's. Got it? I didn't either. Basically 1000 Meticais = 1 Meticais, 5000 Old Meticais = 5 Meticais, and so on, but there is new currency in coins as well. So much of the day is spent squinting for the print date on the coin in addition to doing the math on the exchange rate.
We start the day with breakfast: 1 bread roll = 2 Meti = 2000 Old Meti = 8 US cents.
We take a minibus down 24 de Junio (the main road) to the Revolution Museum: 5 minute bus ride = 5 Meti = 5000 Old Meti = 25 US cents.
We spend roughly an hour and 1/2 inside the four story museum which is empty, dimly lit and completely in Portuguese. There are some fantastic photographs of training camps in the jungle--in particular there is one black and white photo of a female soldier, standing in a forest in full fatigues, smiling quite hapily. Most of the lights in the museum are either not working or not turned on, so small galleries are lit by the sunlight trickling in from the shaded windows. We explore on our own, taking what we can from the photos and making rough, inaccurate translations.
Revolution Museum = 15 Meti = 15000 Old Meti = 60 US cents.
We wander down the broken sidewalks-- an obstacle course of its own--through an artists square where two men show us around their studios. One man works in ceramics and paints and makes clothing. The second works with leather and is a musician--he proudly plays all his instruments for us.
Next stop: central market. All the streets in Maputo are named after communist leaders which makes for great directions: "Right onto Karl Marx, left onto Ho Chi Minh".
We enter their central market which is dark and damp. The sunlight trickles through the roof and relects off the slimy silver fish lined up for sale. The market women call to you to grab your attention but throw daggers at you with their eyes when you try to take pictures. The street kids ask you for money. No one smiles unless there is a sale.
A man is making basic cheese and bologna sandwiches, so we buy one for ourselves and Tessa buys one for the street boy who has been following her.
1/2 kilo of cashews = 50 Meti = 50000 Old Meti = $2 US
Sandwich = 13 Meti = 13000 Old Meti = 42 cents US
We leave the market and walk towards the train station which I've heard from other backpackers is very nice. The facade is lime green and white, with a dark mahogany wood revolving door like a mouth. I feel I've walked onto a movie set and that I should be tearfully reuniting with or being separated from my soldier boyfriend-- but in Portuguese, maybe with English subtitles. It is a charming building and everyone is friendly to the point of being strange. We sit on the front veranda and eat our lunches, sharing a glass bottle of coca cola and make sure to return the glass bottle to the woman who sold it to us so she can get money for the glass.
Last stop: the French cultural center. I'm not sure why there is a French cultural center in Mozambique since it was the Portuguese who colonized this area, but who am I to judge these nutty, post-colonial realities. We sit in the garden cafe and sip our fresh pear juice while some locals smoke a hookah nearby.
Fresh pear juice = 30 Meti = 30000 Old Meti = $1.20 US-- of course the French cafe is the most expensive!
We meet Joe in front of the hospital and catch a bus north to the fish market at Costa del Sol, where every day the fisherman return around 4:30 p.m. and sell their catches. Fat, jovial men and women sit swatting the flies away from the fish and talk loudly to each other. Tessa buys prawn, Joe buys king fish and I buy calamari. The shopkeepers joke with us as we squirm a bit from the site of the flies and all these strange fish. We ask all kinds of questions on size, prize, freshness in broken spanish/portuguese/french. Behind the market are 5 or 6 restaurants that will cook your fish for you and one man who speaks decent English helps translate the transaction and hooks us into his restaurant.
1 kilo calamari = 100 Meti = 100,000 Old Meti = $4 US
add ons: rice, salad, 1 beer and all the preparation = 140 Meti = 140,000 Old Meti = $5.60 US
We have an absolutely delicious dinner, with great company (minus the guys coming to the table trying to sell us jewelry and all kinds of trinkets) and end up with literally 1/2 the king fish left over, which the restaurant owner didn't seem unhappy about.
Off to bed for an early bus ride in the morning to Tofo!