Vilanculos: dismissed in paradise
The truck runs aground on a sandbar. No. avanza y Lion, our driver, accelerations situation worsens nonsense all they do is sink the wheels in the sand. There is no guilt when doing everything possible, but in this case it takes more than intention to move a mass of several tons that has swallowed sand. We are four miles from the hotel, Villas do Indian, in the Mozambican town of Vilanculos. To the right is a turquoise sea. At the bottom, Benguera Island where I was in April. The same place from another angle. Never the same, There are always new sounds and this time there will be tens of. So I did not know, but this second encounter with a site that does not know its existence six months became a lasting memory for the rest of my life.
Much of the blame in that sensation has a Portuguese disheveled, carefree aspect and a heart too generous. While waiting in the sun for someone to come to our rescue and we saw happen to Mozambicans who walk, Like most African, in the middle of nowhere doing nothing other, get a truck from the hotel. One can already sense that it must be a special place a place that stands for a way impossible. Low Victor Hugo, smiling, tranquil, without the ceremony required the owner of a hotel guests. Tows our metal behemoth and we got to yours, more prepared for the wheels and hands, to take us home, that Villas do Indico is a rented house balconies overlooking the paradise.
The arrival was a shot of adrenaline for some travelers, less, Zimbabwe who crossed hoping it quick escape. In any case, is a perfect travel end, certainly, that the Indian is a gift to the senses. Ana Paula then appears, Victor's wife, he shares with his original partner culture of treating customers as fellow travelers. Una tipa, I'll talk about them in depth in the next post, warm and intelligent. A Bernardo, Fernando and I have to sleep in the lodge adjoining the Portuguese partner hotel. A log cabin has a terrace hanging water. The first evening, lying on one of the beds exterior is perfect. The evening, sitting in the same place, eternal.
We entered the water and two women approaching Mozambican. Not speak Portuguese, communication is impossible, and are dedicated to laugh out loud peaky probably from trying to talk to them
Group travel has been completed. The majority support excursions offered by the hotel. Diving, fishing, Bazaruto Archipelago visit ... I've done all these trips for three months and decide to stay at the hotel. I fancy a bit of solitude, of calm, to find something I know I've lost. There is a part of the final and irremediable in that place and a certain panic to accept (repeat that feeling). In the morning I'll walk the endless and beautiful beach around the hotel. Several miles later and I'm back with Irene, one of the companions preferred route also has some singular versus plural both forced. In recent days I have talked a lot with her. It is a polemicist who likes to give their opinions without indifference. Several white wines after, under an umbrella, confirm my perception. It is a chick worth, it brings things to think about and smiles. We entered the water and two women approaching Mozambican. Not speak Portuguese, communication is impossible, and are dedicated to laugh out loud peaky probably from trying to talk to them.
The next day, we're Fernando, Bernardo and I to Vilanculos. We do walk along the beach. A few miles of lifeless life of the bushes appears born to the dunes. See the algae pickers, shell, fishermen and children selling amid the emptiness his craft made in china (course, made by her hands). We, as a group of three, is a farewell. Bernardo and I, then, we decided to stay longer than the group returns to Spain. Fernando will return to Sevilla, forward planning trips with his dog. We got to the port, that looks like a graveyard of ships that arrived there years ago and did not come from. There is a certain smell of fish fresh from the sea and sailing boats that carry dozens of people who rise and fall of them laden with bags. Probably going to the islands of Bazaruto. Everyone seems stampede disorder a ballroom dance. I could spend hours gazing.
We eat together, three, seafood dipping some beer and wine. We speak of those who speak of lost lovers, of future destinations, of runaways, impossible lives. That night was excessively prolonged, and on site, to become more daring dawn for. I send the crew penalty, three traveling companions with whom I shared wonderful moments. Pen to know that probably never see them returning to. The next morning ritual is repeated with the rest. People with whom I shared a trip for three weeks and that will be a timeless memento seconds. As travel, experience, my last year and a half. They go, I am left with Bernardo. Brutal experience the looming: Victor and Ana Paula.
This trip is part of the route of the agency Katanga Zimbabwe: Walking great Zimbabwe
Route Kananga:http://www.pasaporte3.com/africa/viajes/zimbabue-mozambique/zimbabue-mozambique.php
