Cooking and Dancing

          

My eyes opened today for the most glorious morning. I could be planning ways to celebrate, instead I have to stay with my sick old dog Will. The third thought occuring to me was that this weekend will be slow… Perhaps cooking?

 

Yesterday was “dancing day”, starting with the shopping ritual. I am not found of shopping, a strange quality to have. I like to shop when I have girls around, but my daughter, sister and sister-in-low are very far from where I live, and around me I only hear divers talking about cars, politics, fishing, partying, traveling and holidaying. When we live with boys, we have to be prepared for the unthinkable. Yesterday, while organizing my photos files, I found a really rude and bad taste short movie from friends of JP that by mistake ended up in my computer.

 

For the day to day shopping we have someone who does it for us, but once a week husband and I go out shopping. We live in the urban part of the town but if we drive 10 to 15 minutes we are inside the “other town”, known as subúrbios. Usually, in other countries, suburbs mean places where rich people live, but not in Maputo. Here suburbs are huge neighbourhoods with thousands of people living in very poor conditions.

 

Once we leave our house, we have to cross one of these neighbourhoods in order to arrive at one of the best shops of Maputo. Sometimes I go shopping just because I can see funny different things on the way. The other day I spotted a cute gas station, a local small business duplicating the big gas stations.

 

As I said before, people here give names to their small businesses. Today I saw another funny thing: a chapa (private public transport) with the name Pink Floyd II. This means that somewhere in Maputo lives someone so found of Pink Floyd to give this name to at least two chapas. The world is really small!

 

After the air conditioner shopping, we went to “Mercado do Peixe”, one of several fish markets of this town. Pass the smell and flies, it was really nice to be there. Mozambicans are very friendly by nature and they deserve the best.

 

Yesterday night brought dance frenzy to this home. Dancing African is fun-fun-fun! I was listening to a Mozambican musician I don’t even know the name, when I felt compelled to do the same wild dance he was doing and I had a spectator: my husband! He didn’t want to dance, but the music was so contagious that he was sympathetic with my uncontrollable urge of shaking to pieces. I must discover who this musician is!

Country Flowers

 

Two weekends ago, when we went to Marracuene, we were greeted near the ferryboat by six children, or even more, offering flowers. Some of them were really small, six years maximum, and they could already speak a few words in English:

 

“My offer to you!”

 

It was a nice gesture so I accepted the first flower, but the little one kept his hand insistently begging. I had to give him a couple of meticais. The next minute, more than ten children “offering” all kind of wild plants surrounded our car.

 

I tried to explain to a more insistent one that if we offer a present to someone we shouldn’t expect something in return.

 

“Do you understand?” I asked in my best emphatic Portuguese.

 

He replied to me with a yes, so I accepted the second flower. Well, you know already what happened: I had to give him more meticais or his little hand would never stop begging. Sometimes our best intentions are confronted by the inexorable reasoning of others.

 

If you are new in “welcome to Marracuene protocol”, my best advise is: do carry a reasonable amount of coins with you, or you will risk leaving the place empty hands in what concerns local flora!

Books I’m Reading

    

First and forever Kathy Reichs, my travel and bedtime companion, kind of “punishment” for not having completed Law, in part due to forensics, and for other reasons I’m too lazy to explain right now.

 

Yesterday I have finished a short story with a puzzling and disturbing end. It was the impossible love kind of narrative and it ended more or less like this:

 

She turned on the lights to see her face in the mirror and stepped back in disbelief. How could she look so glowing and powerful? Her skin was perfect satin, the colour of her cheeks as if she had just come back from a mountain walk.

 

She approached the mirror and saw that she had unintentionally hurt herself almost in the center of her lower lip. She touched the spot and was relieved to see that it wasn’t painful. She pressed harder and a few drops of blood exploded from the center of her lip. She collected the drops, one by one, and she wrote with them in the mirror:

 

“I just would like to know that I had only one shot.”

 

When she finished the writing, she looked again into the mirror. It was impossible to read a single word, but she sighted with contentment. At least the mirror stopped reflecting the ridiculous splendor of her face. She turned off the lights and left immersed in an oblivious peace.

 

I’m starting today the memories of countess de Mangualde, ancestor of my close friend T. The book is particularly interesting because it follows the judgment of count de Mangualde, accused of conspiracy against the Portuguese Republic. My grandfather was a monarchist too. I think that he was very close with the last Portuguese Queen and princes, because he used to ride with them and it seems that this is the best way to be close to royals. When the “5th of October” happened, my grandpa seeked refuge in his country home, where he spent the rest of his days.

 

Yesterday I was leafing through the book when I came across the following quote from a former minister: “Republic doesn’t bother me. Republicans do”, and I was left thinking how true this is, because most of the systems have good and bad principles, yet the main aspect is always the people in charge.

 

______________ 

This morning, as soon as I opened my eyes, I decided to reinvent myself. I have to correct a few things that are messing up my life, like talking with my sister again, the only person in the world who has reasons to doubt of my feelings. Something good has to come out of this.

Apart

 

The moon has ascended between us
Between two pines
That bow to each other

 

Love with the moon has ascended
Has fed on our solitary steams

 

And we are now shadows
That cling to each other
But kiss the air only.

 

C. Okigbo

Yesterday vs Today

  

Yesterday

My divers are on the move with new jobs and tasks. JP, Jo and a couple of South Africans went to Xai-Xai to help fixing a barge to the bottom of the sea. NB, who has been in Gulf of Mexico for the last months, is supposed to arrive in the first week of October. Vic used to be JP’s best underwater fishing companion, but now is working for a tourist operator in Malongane. During the weekend we must have a reason to celebrate… the boys promised us a ton of mussels from Xai-Xai!

 

As for the occasional divers: Paul is fine and TD arrived yesterday at Joburg coming from Cape, where he had a busy schedule. I hope he reads this post and comes back soon, because right now he will be the only one capable of cheer me up. Andy appeared after a long weekend, happy as a birdie because in two days he will fly 1^st class to Durban, from where he is going to drive the Rover he picked for our friend Ro.

 

I had to seat for a while with Andy’s friend KK in order to understand what was happening with our computer. It turn out I was so nervous that I made a mess with passwords that I use everyday without a single hesitation.

 

I have a couple of lady friends who need to cry at least twice a year. They call it therapeutic cry and explained me that this is a form to get rid of stress and worries. My life must have been a good one so far, because I can’t remember the last time I have cried. “Little Bell” cried once and for all those years, though she didn’t cried for herself. She cried reading a text in a language that she almost couldn’t understand, all she could feel was the deep emptiness wrapping all the things he touched and the words he wrote. She felt such incontrollable sympathy for the author and his fate that she simply couldn’t stop crying. Does love have to be tragic? For someone who sees it pleasant and satisfying, it is a chock to read that such feelings do exist. I really wish that one day he would be able to find peace and everything he wants.

 

Today

Who would have said that my addicted crying friends are right! Except for loosing a couple of eyelashes, I wake up this morning feeling fresh and ready to start. Perhaps it was my husband good disposition due to the newspapers talk about a book that interest us in particular, but during our usual morning talk I felt adventurous enough to suggest a trip to Europe. After some considerations, he accepted the possibility of going with Andy within 1 to 9 months. That means the possibility of including Germany and who knows what else!    

 

Finally, I would like to present to family and friends, specially to my friend F, the new object of my affection!

Scherezad

 

Once upon a time, men were so cruel as they are today. One of them was particularly rich and evil. He used to sleep every night with a new wife from his harem, and the next morning she was sent to die.

 

One day he asked for one of his wives, a nice young girl called Scherezad. Contrary to the others, she never seemed to be in a rush to climb to the rich man bed and have his attention. She took her time. That’s why she could understand that after the night with the sultan, all women disappeared for good.  

 

The day she was called to spend the night with the cruel man, she knew that the only way to survive would be cleverness. They had an enjoyable dinner and after engaged in a conversation. Scherezad picked a subject to start a story, maintaining the man so interested that he kept asking for more. Suddenly, Scherezad told him:

 

“Excuse me, sir. We do have to stop for now!” She opened the windows so the man could see that outside was already bright.

 

“What about the rest of the story?”

 

“Well, if you don’t mind I would like very much to tell you how it ends later this night!”

 

He accepted and that’s how it happened the first of a thousand nights.

 

When we are children, usually nobody tell us that all those nights of telling stories to the sultan represent three years of a lifetime, and in three years a lot can happen: an old sultan can get older and weaker and a young storyteller girl can become wiser and wiser, to the point of taking charge of the sultanate. I believe in happy ends, so I always saw Scherezad ruling a happy country where cruel men had no power at all.

 

Today I “scherezaded” a little on behalf of our old dog Will. I truly don’t believe that I would be successful for 3 years or even 3 months, but I am aiming 3 realistic weeks!

Concerns and Boats

 

 

   

As today is a national holiday, I’ve been busy housewifing. Andy has disappeared since Thursday with his friends, but at lunch we had the unexpected company of JP. He is an Italian food lover, but he seemed glad to share our German lunch of potatoes, frankfurters, cabbage with cider vinegar, baked apples, cabernet sauvignon or juice.

Besides the expected, weekend brought us some worries with newspaper titles like:

‘Surge’ of Crime: Police admit that hijacking, robbery and burglary are soaring across Joburg

or

http://www.news24.com/News24/South_Africa/News/0,,2-7-1442_2003447,00.html

Sometimes life is just like one little fishing boat sailing the bay: goes sideways, slides slowly, approaches suddenly, stops for an instant and starts to move again…

Collecting Memories

                    

Sunday we went back to Emmanuel sunny restaurant. We had a nice chat with him, Gotan Project, some Cuban tunes, seafood soup, garlic prawns, grilled grouper and house wine. I left wondering how eating a lot of fish and shellfish changes our drive.

 

Despite the fact that I am relatively new to blogging, Emmanuel asked me to leave here the following appeal:

 

Costa do Sol restaurant was established in 1938. The Petrakakis family launched the famous “LM prawns”, and ever since they have been operating the place with perseverance and enthusiasm. Right now, Emmanuel Petrakakis is collecting stories and impressions from people who have visited Costa do Sol restaurant, from 1938 on. Any of you who would like to have a say, can send it to: rcs@teledata.mz 

          

O restaurante Costa do Sol existe desde 1938. Foi a família Petrakakis que lançou os “LM prawns”, famosos camarões de Lourenço Marques, e desde essa altura eles estão à frente do lugar com perseverança e entusiasmo. Neste momento Emmanuel Petrakakis está a recolher histórias e impressões de pessoas que visitaram o restaurante Costa do Sol, desde 1938. Quem quiser contribuir com algumas palavras pode mandá-las para:  rcs@teledata.mz 

 

The summer season is starting and the town is full of tourists. I left the place with the unease sensation that there was someone in the restaurant who knew me from somewhere else. Could it be the blond photographer who entered when we were ready to leave and smiled and stared at me­? Could it be someone or something else? We do know people from Portuguese media and it seems a cartoonist exhibition is currently going on, as Emmanuel promptly remembered us pointing proudly at the words left on the wall by Portuguese Rui Pimentel.

 

On our way home, Paul started his favourite topic of conversation: wealthy food. So we stopped to buy a beautiful pineapple at a small street fruit stall. As they do frequently here, the stall has a name: “Um txova pra mim!”, “A push for me!” or “Give me a push!” That’s right what I need at this precise moment. Afternoon is reserved for dog Will, some music from German friends and blogging. The push has to come another day!

Triunfo

 

My Saturday adventure was near Bairro do Triunfo, where I met a nice guy from South Africa with the sweet name of Andy. He will help us in the next four weeks to get the import license for our puppy.

 

We walked on the beach. It was the usual windy afternoon, but very pleasant. The erosion is patent everywhere we go, but the sunset is always breathtaking.

 

Dreamer

 

I could easily be the writer and a character of the same book. If I could pick one role, I would like very much to be a dreamer. I could be a poor student, with his head full of idyllic images of lost paradises.

 

In real life, I am also found of magical places. Around my twenties, I could only think of one corner of the world: Tahiti.  More recently, I started to dream about Cancun. It was like: “Why am I not in Cancun? When can I go to Cancun? It must be really nice in Cancun!”

 

Meanwhile, my family from Portugal arrived here to stay with us and we visited Inhaca, an island situated in the bay, only 50 minutes by boat from where we live. I was unaware that my “Cancun dream” was perceptible to others, but when we arrived at Inhaca S turned to me and said with a maestro gesture: “Here you have it, your Cancun!”

 

She had visited Cancun recently, I think she loved it but found the place “very touristy”. Her words were like a wake up call to me, because they took me from the pages of a book never written and brought me back to reality. Inhaca is a paradise within our reach, and we always have a magical time when we go there.

 

Foi da primeira vez que vieram aqui de férias! Nesse tempo, eu tinha o sonho de visitar Cancun. Acho que vocês tinham lá estado ou estavam para ir lá. Quando chegámos à Inhaca, foste tu, S, que me chamaste a atenção para a beleza do lugar, afirmando que a Inhaca não devia nada a Cancun. Puseste um ponto final nesse sonho e desde aí comecei a ver com outros olhos esta ilha tão perto de nós! O R que fique bom depressa para voltarmos um destes dias à Inhaca! 

 

 

              Early morning, while breakfasting at Inhaca hotel…