We pack up our stuff and Steve manages to fit all into the car. I grab my notebook and a pen and hurriedly scribble a note that is going to be placed into a bottle that Steve found on the beach. The note is placed into the bottle and the top is sealed with waterproof tape.
We take a drive down to the beach one last time and I attempt to throw the bottle far enough out into the water so that the incoming waves don't bring it straight back into the beach. It comes back into the shore about ten feet from where I'm standing. Steve looks at the waves and figures that the best place to launch it is slightly to the left of where my attempt took place. He hands me his sandals to hold, Rolls up his shorts slightly, walks as far out into the surf as he can manage without being swamped by the incoming waves and throws it into a trough between two waves.
After making sure that the bottle doesn't come straight back to shore we get back into the car and drive to reception so that Steve can settle the bill. I stand and look out over the bay all the while telling myself to remember this place and the view that stretches out in front of me. I stare out at the sea, in the distance I see a whale surface and spurt water into the air through its blowhole.
Steve returns to the car and I jump in the back of the cab. Steve says that he had been asked by the person in reception if we had had a nice stay. He tells us that he said that we had a great time but it was slightly spoiled by the generator being switched off in the middle of the football game the previous night and also by the fact that there were no mosquito nets in the hut to keep the mozzies off us while we slept. He informs us that the receptionist had said there were mosquito nets available but that we have to ask for them. I consider telling Steve to turn the car around so I can burn the resort to the ground because I have spent more than a week being a mobile buffet for those annoying little fuckers that sucked my blood quicker than the star of the Houston 500 sucked off her co-stars. But I decide that burning the place to the ground would only land me in trouble and I keep quiet.
We drive out of the resort and wallow our way back along the sand road. As we reach the harder sand road Steve stops the car and gets out to put some air into the tyres. They had been at 1 bar the whole week we had been in Guinjata Bay and the surrounding area. I get out and light a cigarette as the electric pump does it's job. A couple of locals ask me if I have a spare cigarette and I hand them one each. When they ask me for a light I make a joke about if they'll manage to smoke them on their own or do they want me to do that too. They don't get it. "Everyone's a critic" I say as they walk away with a puzzled look on their faces.
A couple of hundred yards down the road from where we are there stands a solitary traffic cone. Just behind it there is a local digging a hole. It makes me laugh to think that this is what qualifies as mozambiquan roadworks. One cone, one guy and a shovel.
I ask Steve to get a picture of me standing in the road as I attempt to look like Dr Livingston on drugs. I think I succeed.
After the pump finishes blowing air into the tyres we begin the long drive back towards Maputo and to our overnight stay at Casa Lisa, which we have given the nickname of Casa Fawlty due to the owner being so much like Basil Fawlty. As we drive through one of the small towns Steph says to me to get a picture of the truck up ahead. I stare through the windscreen to see something that causes me to laugh out loud at the bizarreness of it. The truck in front of us has a cargo of large logs, on top of which stands a dozen goats. I can barely believe what I'm seeing so I grab my camera and take a picture of it.
We cross the Limpopo river and continue our drive towards Casa Fawlty. The afternoon sun is beating down on me through the window of the car and I sit and watch the world go by. We pass through small towns and villages where the locals go about their day and I find myself wondering what each of their stories are. These people who I will never know and will never see again. I find myself beginning to wish I could have the time to get to know them all. Just to hear their stories and to live a little with them in this beautiful country.
A few hours later we arrive at Casa Fawlty and Bruce/Basil greets us and shows us to our huts. The one Tamlyn and I are sharing has a single bed and a double bed. I ask Tamlyn if she wants the double bed but she says that I can have it and I drop my bag at the side of it and go outside for a cigarette.
Steve is sitting outside on the porch of his hut and I am smoking my cigarette and watching the ants on the ground scurry back and forth. In the grass I spot what appears to be a small black plastic beetle. I pick it up and show it to Steve. He tells me it's a Tock Tock beetle that has been eaten by the ants. There is nothing left of it's innards and all that remains is its shell. I ask Steve if all the small holes in the ground are ant nests and he informs me that they are. I think to myself that there must be billions of ants living in nests just below my feet.
Steve shows me small funnel like holes in the ground and tells me that each small indentation in the sand is home to a lion ant. I listen in amazement as he explains to me how a lion ant eats ants and uses its funnel shaped trap to catch them. Steve picks up an ant and drops it into the funnel of the trap. Within seconds a lion ant begins to flick sand onto the ant causing it to become trapped. When the lion ant gets a hold of the ant it pulls the ant under the sand and the fight is over.
We spend a few minutes attempting to feed the husk of the Tock Tock beetle to the bats that are flying above our heads and then it's off to the bar for a drink. Basil/Bruce serves us and Tamlyn arrives just in time for the second round of drinks that night.
We have dinner and another couple of drinks and then it's off to bed for the first night of undisturbed sleep in more than a week. At least Casa Fawlty has mozzie nets.
The next morning we leave early so that we can make it to the border before the majority of travelers make the place too busy. I get my camera out and tell Basil/Bruce to smile for the birdie and quickly grab a Picture of him for my blog.
We thank Basil/Bruce for the lovely stay and the wonderful service and then we're off. Back on the road.
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