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… Maybe 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.

For the day-to-day shopping we have someone who does it for us, still once a week Paul and I have to 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. Not in Maputo, though. Here suburbs are huge neighbourhoods where thousands of people live in very precarious conditions.

Once we leave our house we have to cross one of such neighbourhoods in order to arrive at one of the best shopping places around here. Sometimes I go 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 fond 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: Paul! Even though he didn’t want to dance, the music was so contagious he was sympathetic with my uncontrollable urge of shaking to pieces. I have to discover who this musician is!

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