April 1, 2007

April Fool’s Day! Tessa and I begin the day by playing a little trick on Brandon and Curtis—the two most wholesome, apple-pie boys that we met on the bus to Tofo, who happen to be from Washington (Washington State that is—they always politely specify, in case anyone might get confused).
We cajole the local stubborn goat to their bungalow door (which entails Tessa alternating between screeches of terror and delight while I laugh hysterical, take photographs with one hand and attempt to lure the goat with grass with the other hand). Tessa and I can barely hold in our giggling as we near their door and so we knock loudly and run behind some shelter. Curtis sleepily opens the door and we bust out laughing. When Tessa and I travel together, we are really like children again—we giggle a lot.
Today is the first completely sunny day in Tofo, which is a relief since I was afraid of going back to Cape Town whiter than I left it. But thus far our time in Tofo has been filled with the sounds of water. The fat plop of heavy rain on a plastic minibus window. The laughter and screams of children just let out of school and walking along the road as we zoom through the massive puddles. The dull dense blank noise of lying underwater as the tide pulls your body out to sea. The best sound has been the constant simplicity of waves crashing—an overlapping crescendo and decrescendo. And sleeping in to the sound of drizzle on the roof of our reed bungalow.
On the day we arrive (March 29, 2007), it is only raining off and on, which adds drama to this paradise—the sun poking out randomly and the glossy reflection of sunshine off a wet, wide green palm leaf. I immediately dive into the Indian Ocean under an early rising moon, the sun simultaneously setting down shore.
Tessa, Brandon, Curtis and I have dinner at a restaurant a short walk down the beach where lightning bolts down over the water, cracking the black sky like an egg. We all run home together in the rain, laughing at the predicament—rain in paradise.
The next day (March 30, 2007), Tessa and I plan to take a long walk on the beach but as we begin the warmth of the ocean water running up against our feet is overpowered by the cold rain and sting of gusts of sand. So we run into a restaurant and wait out the rain.
We only manage to walk down the shore for about 10 minutes, then back the opposite direction into “town”, which consists of a very small food market of roughly 10 women and their tables filled with vegetables and grains. Also there are about 5 women selling fish and some men with craft stalls.
In Tofo, time is measured in sun rises, tides, the breaking of clouds, and the sun set. Everything else is a blank darkness, which one can subdivide as they like. Most of the travelers here are surfers or divers—they generally drink or do copious amounts of drugs. Tessa and I are neither and are content to have a drink, a laugh and head to bed in hopes of better weather the next day.
This tomorrow (March 31, 2007) has nice weather long enough for Tessa and I to take our long walk (roughly 2 hours?), which leads us down the inside curve of the crescent bay. It is good to travel with Tessa because I am able to be all parts of myself around her—the silly, the funny, the sad, the happy, the serious. And our talks are directionless in their flow. It is relaxing and refreshing to spend time with someone who knows you so well and who you know so well.
We make another visit to the market and decide to be bold—we buy prawns, carrots, aubergine (translation for the states: eggplant), onions, garlic, rice, 2 coconuts and oil (which the woman siphons into a tiny plastic bag and ties a knot at the top). Take notes because this meal was delicious!
But before we can be chefs, we first must be swimmers. Just after sunset, the strength of the current, height of the waves and deepening colors of the sky gives the swim a dangerous, taboo feeling. Tessa and I laugh as we play in the waves but we don’t stray too deep, making sure the sand is firmly underneath us.
Brandon and Curtis meet us at the hostel’s outdoor kitchen. Tessa and I spend most of our time shelling and de-veining the shrimp while Curtis uses a wine corkscrew to pop open 2 holes in the coconuts to draw out their milk, and Brandon amuses himself by taking pictures and video of the whole event (specifically all the tiny and not-so-tiny geckos that have gathered near the lantern to catch the insects attracted to the light).
The more time we spend wit Bran and Curtis, the more I truly enjoy their company. At first Tessa and I thought they were the two most freakishly polite boys we had ever met. Then she saw Brandon reading what looked like a evangelical book, so we thought they were missionaries! I said to myself, “Oh crap, they’re going to try to convert me!”—but they didn’t at all. They have been so absolutely sweet—Brandon, especially is so innocent, but very curious and genuine. Curtis is a bit older and not quite as doe-eyed but still completely kind and gentle. His whole presence is relaxing and content.
Today, (April 1, 2007), we all take a “sea safari”, which turns out to be equal parts rollercoaster happiness and rollercoaster nausea. Apparently Mo’bique is known for their whale sharks—which look like sharks but act like whales as they feed on plankton by filtering the water, as well as being harmless to people.
Luckily we’re put on a sea safari that Simon, Tessa’s dive guide who we bumped into in Maputo, is leading. We push the high-speed rubber boat into the water and against the waves. Somehow we manage to jump in just as we get the boat in deep enough so that the motor can be turned on. The driver kicks the engine into high gear as we crash into the crests of the waves head on and over the first wall of water. As we travel further out, the swells become huge and I’m squealing as we fly off each edge. We’re all gripping onto the ropes with white knuckles and soon one of the Tofo Scuba guys is climbing up into a high seat (about 7 feet above the boat) to help spot dark shadows in the clear blue water.
Pretty soon they’ve spotted a whale shark. The boat quickly zooms around in front of it and our fins and masks are on. Plop, plop into the water but the shark gets frightened and dives down deeper into the water.
We’re back on the boat not 5 minutes when a huge manta ray is spotted. Plop, plop. This manta ray is easily larger than I am. It hovers just feet from us for a while as its massive fins roll out to the sides.
The mixture of adrenaline, snorkeling in these huge swells and jumping in and out of the boat causes me to feel a bit nauseas but I steady myself and look towards land (which is what you’re instructed to do if you’re not feeling well since it’s the only point of reference that isn’t actually moving). I’m feeling better soon and enjoying the high speed search. The water is a deep blue and the sun is warm enough to dry us off pretty quickly (at least those not directly in the way of the ocean spray).
Luckily someone spots a school of dolphin nearby but unfortunately, they don’t seem to want to stay and play. We get a few moments glipse of the graceful arch of their backs and soon they’ve dove deep into the water.
A bit later, we’re also in the water, just feet from a “teenage” whale shark, which is roughly 5 or 6 meters. Everyone hovers at a respectful distance. Simon is even able to get some pictures of her underbelly. I don’t think I’ve ever swam with such a large animal before in my life. You float there in tossing sea, in absolute awe of its humbling size.
The rest of the day is uneventful in that lazy summer, beach life manner. Tessa and I make dinner and Curtis and Brandon join us while we eat outside under the cover of tangled vines and starlight.