AIR

 

If by chance I had spent
The whole night though
Without waiting for you

 

Just think about

 

How different it would be
The air, the moon, the sea

Little Mary

 

MARIAZINHA
Escondida na rua
Brincando sozinha
Onde estás, Mariazinha?

 

O sol já se pôs
E ela na vizinha
Onde estás, Mariazinha?

 

Perdida no mundo
Como uma avezinha
Onde estás, Mariazinha?
Onde estás, Mariazinha?

Drawer Personality

 

How many drawers does an average house have? I suppose the number varies according to the number of people living in there and also with personal tastes and options. Some prefer shelf storage to drawers. Others opt for boxes.

 

I spend a great deal of time around drawers. I don’t mind because, since I was a child, I found fascinating any storage place. My mother playfully called me “mexeriqueira”, wrongly associating the word with mexer (touching things), when actually means gossiper. Storage places should be left alone. They should remain untouched, unless an imperious motive forced her to act. While most of my colleagues and friends sat in front of television sets, I was discovering the contents of any armoire or drawer. I suppose this is only a reflex of my treasure hunter vocation.

 

Excluding armoires, shelves, boxes and any other storage form, I recently counted more than 80 drawers. Ignoring if the number is normal or too big, I justify it because of family size and also because we have too many things that we don’t really need and end up in some drawer. I do expect that this explains it, because the stories I know involving drawers are not flattering for drawer-like people.

 

I know about a region where dinner tables have drawers so that the family members can quickly hide the food they are eating inside of them, and don’t have to share it with neighbours and friends. Totally wrong personality!

 

I just hope that having drawers is nothing but a storage option…

 

Note: If you are more into armoires, that could mean that you are not very mature. Compared to drawers, I have the insignificant number of six armoires. Pretty mature, don’t you think?

Tastes of Mozambique

 

September is a beautiful month. The temperature is hot, yet bearable, and days became longer. It’s also when south winds or suladas constantly rise, as if nature had this form of telling us about change. Summer is what lies ahead. The incognita. An exciting incognita, not a stressful one. Thankfully.

 

Before suladas sweep once and for all winter 2009 from my memory, I look back and perceive two main ingredients making it: 1) Very demanding tae bo classes. 2) Experimental cooking.

 

Somehow both are related, since I believe I was pushed into cooking (and eating) because I was afraid I wouldn’t survive the aggressive methods of my new tae teacher.

 

My experimental cooking means trying part of the recipes collected over a set period. In the end, there’s only one or two destined to mark our winter. I was almost getting rid of one of the recipes never tried, when I decided to give it a chance. It seemed impracticable, but at the same time it underlined a nice Mozambican flavour: cashew. So I tried it and the impossible turned into our favourite winter recipe. If you are curious about Mozambican tastes, why don’t you give it a try too?

 

Four Ingredients and Four Steps Cashew Nut Cake

 

250gr of good plain cashew nut
6 to 8 eggs
200 to 250gr of white sugar
½ to 1 tablespoon of good almond essence

 

1. Using any good food processor, reduce the nuts to flour consistency. If necessary, strain it.
2. Beat together egg yolks and sugar until you get a whitish cream. It’s difficult to reach the right consistency manually, but the end result can be good too.
3. Beat the whites until firm, if necessary adding 2 or 3 tablespoons of the sugar.
4. Fold into the yolks mixture: cashew flour, the whites (Softly, please!) and the essence.

 

That’s it. You just have to pour the mix into a well-buttered middle size tin and cook it for about 40 minutes at medium temperature. If you feel like it, you can cover your cake with good melted chocolate. The result is a very light and slightly moist cake, just like this country is.

1, 2, 3… Testing

 

After less than a month of something passing for winter, we are welcoming spring the best possible way: testing our 6m semi-rigid Navegador. Navegador is a very reliable and playful boat. Thanks to design, lightness and motor performance, it can cross this bay with three times less fuel than any other boat. Most of them dock during long periods, while Navegador only docks because of weather or laziness conditions.

 

There’s a lesson we have to learn from all this long period without boat. Three years ago, when Navegador had an accident, we assumed the motor was completely doomed. So, we sat and waited for an opportunity to buy a new one. JP even offered parts of it to a friend. Assuming is a terrible thing…

 

Due to some pressure from the club, we sent the boat to a repair dock in Durban and after a couple of days we were informed that the motor was in perfect health. As a conclusion, we have just paid for service and the parts JP had alienated. The total repair cost represents 7 or 8 times less than our estimative. I couldn’t ask for a better way to start our 2009 beach season.

 

We have three tests planned: one short distance (Catembe), one middle distance (around the bay) and one “long” distance (Inhaca Island). The short distance test was absolutely successful. The motor roared softly, yet powerfully, as it should have.

 

Leaving behind the city humming and a white foamy path across the blue bay, to Catembe we sped. We were lucky to have picked the most perfect day, almost “mar espelho”. We had champagne on the beach and prawns at the nearby quiet, friendly restaurant. It was a bit stormy during the trip back to the club, but Navegador behaved till the end.

 

The only problems noticed were: 1) We have to improve the anchor system. 2) We have to get a light cover to protect the navigation instruments, since the original cover is too heavy and only useful for travelling proposes. 3) We have to repair the working trailer in order to ease the docking procedures. The travelling trailer is new, but the one where the boat sleeps is rusty and difficult to manage. 4) When hydraulically upped, the motor touches a seat bar. It could have badly crushed my hand, but, as most of the time I protect hands and feet on beaches and at sea, the thickness of a glove saved me for the worst. We have to do something about this.

 

Other than the boat, here are some exciting news from this corner of the universe:

 

- World Cup 2010 construction frenzy seems to have reached Maputo.

 

- Guard Albert is now a father of a healthy baby girl. That same day (August 4), one boy and 15 other girls were born at the same hospital, confirming Andy’s theory that men are on the verge of extinction or Chanda’s theory that people are eating the wrong food.

 

- Speaking of food, our house has been functioning as B&B for two crocodiles. Again. One of them, full of vim, jumped from the travelling container and, if it weren’t for my checking on them from time to time, he would be lost or smashed by a car. I caught the guy two steps away from our front gate. We are feeding them with liver and I have to say that these two guests are not very sociable. Soon they will join two other male crocs living up North. Andy swears this time he is sending a female too. The lucky girl will not know what competition is in the near future…

 

- Keket celebrated six months in good spirit. She is growing pretty fast and learning basic lessons during our daily walks: no, come, stop, sit… With the right incentive (read biltong), I believe that I can teach my dogs to sing “This Paws Are Made for Walking”.

Eating Out

 

The first part of July was marked by three moments: 1) Upon diver JP’s arrival, after finally completing his platform firefighter basic training, we celebrated with feijoada and banana sponge cake. 2) We went to Nelspruit to get spare parts for JP’s car, swapping a game reserve for shopping and Japanese food, just to learn that one of the worst experiences in terms of eating out can be a bad day Japanese restaurant. 3) We closed the first tae bo semester with a very nice Costa do Sol lunch. It was blue and sunny, and it has been like this ever since.

 

Once again I ended up thinking how people like to celebrate around food and especially in restaurants. We also used to eat out once a week, but lately we changed to once a fortnight. We have two reasons: 1) We want to intercalate beaches. 2) There’s no place like home.

 

We know all the good restaurants and hotels, still we couldn’t find a single one offering consistent quality and challenging diversity. When we compare eating out and home, the last one wins with a large vantage. Millions have to trust in alien kitchens to celebrate or survive, but they do miss a good thing. Home cooking is far better and tastier than what most restaurants are able to offer.

 

Nevertheless, I have to say that there are some positive aspects. The number of restaurants available represents a good sign. Service has been improving sensibly. Someone who doesn’t live here commented: “Service improved notoriously since my last visit. Before it was impossible to find a waiter or waitress prepared for the job. Today, it’s a completely different situation. It’s more professional.” Despite all the negativity we have been finding, there’s no doubt that a large effort has been made by the sector.

 

Finally, I am glad to say that we are surviving quite well without chef Tieta. Ironing is a job gentle Elisa does with efficiency and cooking is shared. The other day I found Andy explaining why pasta should be cooked with lots of water to a listening audience. Tieta’s absence is always an opportunity for us to realize that there’s no such thing called indispensable people.

Unexpected Party

 

Andy’s party was supposed to happen on Sunday 21, but not the way it really happened. JP arrived that same day from Qatar and we had plenty reasons to celebrate.

 

Being a Sunday, I knew guard George and I would have to sweat a good part of the afternoon to be ready around 6pm. But the truth is that Paul said the magical word “feijoada” and soon, before 1pm, a crowd of 30 noisy, thirsty souls invaded our backyard.

 

I don’t mind parties and happy people, on the contrary, but I do like things to happen my own way. When I am forced to watch people dancing and drinking right after my breakfast (It was Sunday, per Jupiter!), my mood turns a bit sour.

 

Anyway, George and I have done all we could to make Andy feel happy and JP welcomed. I suppose we succeeded. There were broken glasses, tears and conspiracy clouds… The contrary would mean boring.

 

Looking back through the blurred window of the days already past, I can realize now that this party group seem to be getting old very fast, so fast they didn’t have time to realize it yet.

TV Cooking

 

Saturday 6 was a happy day. A happy day, obviously, starts with a happy morning. And what defines a happy morning? Sometimes it’s just a slant of autumn light. Sometimes it’s just a gust of wind. And sometimes it’s a humming sound escaping from an open door.

 

Saturday mornings are faithfully devoted to cooking. On that particular one I tested a few TV recipes, both sweet and savoury. The last one was easy and consisted of a simplified lasagna recipe. The dessert turned out to be too sweet and gluey.

 

While I was cooking inside, Tieta mastered her matapa in our small backyard kitchen and puppy Keket, who is rediscovering the pleasures of past privileges and her fondness for Yellow Spiky, played not far from my feet. Sometimes I give, sometimes I take back. It seems to be a popular current motto and I am a good student. Anyway, sometime in the morning I remember for a moment thinking how television has been helping people to get better in the kitchen. Finally… a merit!

Under a Tree

 

Since a week ago, I swapped my healthy eating habits for just eating. Why? Because the equation traveling with Paul and Andy equals eating non-stop is becoming sort of a pattern. In the end, Paul always complains: “We eat too much… We spend too much in food…” Needless to say he is the first to say “let’s” when the opportunity comes.

 

The owner of the place where we stayed suggested the first restaurant. We had stopped on the road for lunch and, as the meat portions in South Africa are gigantic, we weren’t really hungry. We craved fish to level the appetite.

 

The restaurant was a small, unpretentious place, yet the chef keeps the tables busy. We all ordered fish. I found the grilled sole I picked very okay, yet far from extraordinaire.

 

The next day we had beef fillet with spinach mash (Andy actual favorite food) and fries. We usually select the same mid-shopping place: nice, busy, but not extraordinaire.

 

Thursday night we went to an emblematic seafront restaurant where we regularly eat when in Duban. Finally, we had an almost extraordinaire moment. Extraordinaire was discovering that the main chef and manager is, in reality, a Mozambican character named Luís (Louis, as he is called). He cooks and performs. To be precise, he performs while cooking Japanese. Between other things, he can joggle pepper and salt mills, he can build an egg tower or make hearts out of fried rice.

 

The next day we had just a light meal before heading back to Maputo, a 560km ride. Saturday we returned to Tieta’s diet, whose highlight was a peanut curry.

 

Sunday I backed a honey cake, a recipe I really wanted to try and couldn’t just because there’s no honey available here. I brought it from South Africa, evidently. The cake is good, but not extraordinaire. Cakes involving liquid ingredients are a bit tricky to bake. I suppose it’s due to the existing high level of humidity.

 

We have an agreement in terms of Sunday lunch. The weeks we manage to visit a beach, we stay home. The remaining weeks we lunch out. No beach this week, so we went out for lunch.

 

The hotel where Jo once worked as a chef has occupied one of the too many beautiful and neglected areas of this town. It’s now a café, a small garden, an event space and a very small open theater. The food is simple, nothing extraordinaire about it, but the weather has been fantastic and we had lunch under a very old acacia tree. And that is, admittedly, extraordinaire.

Business of the Poor

 

Almost a week ago we returned to Macaneta after an unjustifiable period of sedentariness. Things change quietly in this country and only attentive eyes can spot slight differences here and there.

 

Since our last winter visit, when I slept wrapped in a soaked sarong and chilled to the bone, it’s possible to see that the access to the ferry improved and lodges and camping areas multiplied. It’s reported that there are around twenty places for tourists to stay along the stretch of coast between Macaneta and Bilene, almost exclusively owned by South African small investors. Tourists keep showing up, if not massively (thankfully) at least steadily. South Africans drive 1000km or more just to spend 2 or 3 days in one of those new destinations.

 

Just like with Ponta do Ouro, the access road to Macaneta is still a big problem. Rain turns impossible to cruise it. I have seen skilled drivers and their latest 4×4 being rescued by heavy machinery from nearby farms. The dirty road from the ferry to the beach becomes too risky. The craters opened remain as a souvenir of each rainy season. Here come the locals, intruding where authorities and private sector fail.

 

Marracuene and Macaneta population took the road matter into their own hands, in the perspective of making a living out of it. We found people gathering soil and dried forage to cover the numerous holes along the road. They stop what they are doing and stare at the passengers of each passing car, indicating that they expect a reward.

 

The question is that you give some money to the first one and before you reach the crossing roads where you have to decide between the old lodge and going any further, you are asked to contribute to the entrepreneurship of other 8 or 10 hole coverers.

 

It can be seen as an irritating nonsense to the passing visitors, but for them it’s business. They offer a service and expect, quite naturally, to be paid for it.