If You Can Get Past the Trash

Maputo Train Station

“I think Maputo is actually a beautiful city. It is just that the gems aren’t easily visible so as a tourist you don’t really get the beautiful vibe.” I said to Abby while meandering through the city on a warm sunny day.

“Yeah, if you can get past the trash. It took me a long time to get past the trash,” she responded in agreement.

 

True. And the urine. For me it is the urine that is hard to stomach. Well that, and the homeless man that kicked me. But that is another story.

My favorite game to play is to walk down the street and look at the bases of all the acacia trees lining the streets, casting friendly shade on often sweltering summer days, and see which ones have been peed on. I tend to shout out “URINE” whenever I see a wet spot in the sand around the trunk. I'n not sure why I feel the need to shout it out loud. Perhaps I am trying to draw attention to the public health issue. If I were to do an actual study, I think I would find that 97% of said acacias are watered with urine at least four times daily. Which means I am basically a crazy person, speed walking down the street, plugging my nose, examining tree trunks, and shouting “URINE!” about every three feet.

I am currently reading Paul Thoreaux’s Dark Star Safari which details his travels from Cairo to Cape Town and his deditations on Africa, Africans and commonly held ideas about both. While reading the section on Maputo I couldn’t help but think to myself, “If I hear the word dedrelict one more time!” Not that I was offended, the man just tends to choose a word and repeat it. In the first chapter he was really into crepuscular. But every time he referred to the derelict city, the derelict buildings, the derelict train station, etc. I was reminded of the movie Zoolander and would just giggle to myself thinking of Will Ferral’s character and his line "Derelict."

And like his fashion line, Maputo too is derelict chic. What did Abby and I do today to make me realize this? We walked the world.

After resolving to spend all morning "walking the world" - which just means walking for hours around the city to discover its wonders - we strapped on our dirty running shoes, ashamed of the layer of red Namaacha dirt which coated them, knowing that Mozambicans would judge us for being dirty heathens in such foot-ware. They also just ruined our look – I was wearing a hot pink mini dress, black leggings, and a patterned headband adorned with a sweet little bow. The running shoes were a clunky base to the otherwise bright and delightful outfit. But as I have said before, I learned from my mother that I “need some sensible shoes.”

And we were off. First stop, the train station. Designed by Mr. Eiffel, yes, the French tower man. At first site, it is breathtaking. Then, upon looking closer, you realize that, like many things, it is falling apart from years of disrepair. Literally, in addition to the apparent rust, grime and water damage, there was a piece of white molding dangling precariously from the second story veranda. I suppose it is the epitome of derelict… and I think Mr. Thoreaux even used his beloved adjective to describe this very building. Inside we found a line of colorful plastic bags, each holding the place of a Mozambican laying or lazing or sitting around the station, waiting for their ticket and train to the interior bush of the country. Pushing past the line of bags and masses of travelers, we sought out the café and gallery, creating an interesting dichotomy between chic and decrepit – or should I say derelict chic – with local art exhibitions and a café which turns into a hip bar at night - who am I, a granny? Who says “hip” these days? But I digress…

Anyway, of course the gallery was closed because it is a holiday. Everything was closed practically. This includes grocery stores (we discovered as we went on a wine search later in the afternoon. Don’t worry, we eventually found our much needed vino).

Next up, just down the road, the Fortaleza. It is this old Portuguese fort overlooking the bay that has been turned into this fantastic gallery venue. Right now they have a local artisan fair. My purchases: recycled bottle cap earrings which have been hand-painted in bright and african patterns and a necklace made of strings and stones and what Abby calls “funfetti beads.”  What I wanted but couldn’t afford: EVERYTHING. Including these amazing twisty wire and bead rings, a headband with a giant peacock feather on it, capulana genie pants and more!

Then we were off to the Parque de Gastronomia e Artesania – food, crafts, a lovely park and a pond with a little fountain. I managed to do all my gift shopping for my return home next month in one lovely stop!

As we sipped our post shop wine and Italian meal at the restaurant located in the park – I had bruschetta, fresh ravioli stuffed with spinach and ricotta cheese the whole meal topped off with a tad of tiramisu, - Abby exclaimed, “The only thing that would make this better is if there were ducks and swans in this pond!”

I disagree. Though ducks and swans would, in theory, add to the quaint ambiance, the quackers would eat all the grass and shit everywhere and swans are just plain mean. Talk about derelict chic.

So, in summary, Maputo is dingy and dirty and, yes, quite derelict. But amongst the garbage, urine, and falling buildings are architectural beauties, mural masterpieces, delicious eats, creative crafts – often made of recycled materials,  and cool cultural events. But don’t go outside on a rainy day. Because “derelict chic” turns into muddy trash and urine and men harassing you on the street. I suppose the men exist on sunny days as well, but who would even care when the sun is shining, the birds are singing, the bougainvilleas are blooming and the acacias are rustling in the breeze.