Tchoo tchoo

Nampula Travel Blog

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The next day was spent with packing and lining up at the train station, which proved unnecessary, since our second-class tickets (first class had been canceled) made us eligible for early boarding, or maybe it was our 300 pounds of luggage…
In our compartment we had a dad with an adorable three-year-old girl, who sat on my lap, flirted with the food vendors outside the window at every (numerous) station, and ate most of our food. We also caught up on some shut-eye and arrived in Cuamba before we knew it.

At the station we enlisted the help of a man with a flatbed truck to cart us, and all our belongings, to a little hotel not far off. He promised to come back for us early the next morning to bring us to the central market square from where we could catch a ride to the Malawi border. Cuamba had a distinct post-war feeling: power lines dangling uselessly, roads stripped of their pavement, buildings crumbling. It had a certain Wild West charm, with bars on every corner and the big business men and their families parking their expensive cars in the dust in front of the general shop. We had a beer there and were treated to a display of a two-year old learning to kick a soccer ball, the father proud, the mother gushing. I quite liked it in Cuamba. In the evening we had dinner at our hotel, a dry stringy chicken, which was served by such an incredibly sweet, shy man that we did not mind it was barely edible.

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photo by: pearcetoyou