Tofo legendary Bambozi guesthouse- Picture by Gerti Brindlmayer
Backpackers in Tofo gather at Fatima’s Nest and also I could not escape its draw. In July it was pleasantly quiet, but during South African holidays it is buzzing, I was told. The location is unbeatable, with a terrace overlooking a long, curved beach. The ambience is extremely social, THE place to run into anybody who previously crossed your path, be it south or north. In my case it was Jason and the group of Americans / Brits / Aussies that he had joined in Chimoio, but it was also the time and place for making new acquaintances.
There was never a shortage of people ready to roll. In Tofo, there was always a place to party, whereas in Vilankulo, locals would pick you up and take you to a cool bar somewhere. As much as I wanted, I could not come up with the energy to join in. Sometimes I caught myself rolling my eyes at the preparations for those long nights out, the pre-drinking rituals and what must have been excessive amounts of alcohol downed till the early hours. Then I quickly had to remind myself that not too long ago I would refuse to call it quit without some serious dancing and partying…
Only once did I find it worthwhile to hang out late, after some locals told me a band from up north, from Quilimane, was playing a Dino’s. Now that was an event not to be missed! “Banda Tudolos” made incredible music without any heart accelerating thumping bass, but with unpretentious singers and dancers that you could not take your eyes off. That night I was the one coming home late, smiling pompously at the others watching the opening of the Olympics on TV late after midnight. My victory was short-lived: they all went out afterwards.
The Lonely Planet rates Fatima’s Nest as noisy, but it was not too bad during the low season. I must confess treating myself to a 700 Meticais (25 USD) dwelling on the crest of a massive sand dune though, far away from the thumping music of the restaurant / bar. Not cheap for a very basic hut, with nothing but a bed sitting right on the sand… But I simply needed a break from communal sleeping facilities.
Locals wonder why backpackers dish out this kind of money for such most basic facilities. More often they asked me why most of them spend their money in one or two places and do not give more of the business to some locally owned newcomer. I had no answer, except what I came to call “the Lonely Planet Phenomenon.” Why nobody books those really reasonable little houses right in the beach for 600 Meticais, I don’t know: obviously they are not listed in the “bible”.
Bambozi Guesthouse is Tofo’s other backpacking epicentre, at the far end of the beach, most famous for its bar overlooking the entire bay. Only on my last evening did I walk along it extensively, eager to soak it all in one more time.
Having no alarm clock I was so worried about oversleeping the 04:00 am departure of the Maputo-bound bus, but the guard kept his promise and knocked. Organized by Fatima’s Nest, this direct bus leaves right outside the guesthouse, which meant I could choose my favourite seat, before the bus filled up in Inhambane. This way I actually came to enjoy the nine-hour journey: my legs stretched out, a great view, no music induced torture, and instead of having to take three different chapas and a ferry, we drove straight into Maputo.
Picture by Gerti Brindlmayer.
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