Likeness

It's uncanny isn't it? The visa sticker machine at Maputo airport was evidently functioning poorly when I landed back in Mozambique. I hope the distorted face doesn't cause me any grief when I next pass through an immigration point, or get stopped on the street by police checking documentation; arguably the greatest irritation to life here.

Two hours after landing the baggage carousel finally cranked into action, because apparently the President was somewhere around the airport, and suitcases cannot be put onto a conveyor belt during such instances. I'd understand the logic if he had shown himself to be a dictatorial creature the time I interacted with him. Eventually we all retrieved luggage and could go and crash after the night flight.

In Cambodia, when asked, I generally banged on about the favourable climate in Maputo. I hadn't bargained for the heat and humidity of January. Oh sweet Lord above. I spent much of the remainder of the day calculating how many extra fans I should procure and how close to the bed they can be positioned given constraints with plug sockets (outdated electrics in the apartment). My friend Joaquim said having fans next to the bed is 'bad for the body.' I asked for the scientific proof, which couldn't be provided. I'd argue that I'm saving on bedding bills if I don't sweat through layers of sheets on a nightly basis, so on balance it's worth it.