A chegada

I had some confidential internal documents about the history of our main Mozambique project, which I put in the seat pocket as reading material for the Addis to Maputo leg. I fell asleep and woke up to a passenger nearby stuffing them back in. His excuse was that he was using them as a rest to fill in a visa form. Or he may have been engaged in conservation espionage.

'You are from Elizabeth.' I eventually emerged from a painfully slow visa-on-arrival queue and was waiting outside for my trusty taxi driver Vitória. Various hang-abouters loiter at the airport, claiming to be luggage porters who want to practise their English; in reality begging. One was urging me to forget the remainder of the working day and head to the beach. And to give him money so he could enjoy himself at the beach. I didn't take up either suggestion.

I was feeling less than fresh after overnight travel. Although I'd likely slept better (passed out deeper) than in recent days it's not starting from a high quality sleep baseline. The rest of the day was spent fairly quietly in the hotel, with the gradual dawning that soon Maputo will be home.