Shilling out

I woke with a banging head and concerns about malaria, coupled with regret at my slackness in continuing to take malaria prophylaxis for the correct duration after leaving the high risk zone of northern Mozambique. I don’t take preventative malaria medication usually as I don’t like the idea of being on it permanently, yet was warned on the recent trip that late rains (related to Cyclone Kenneth) had spurred an outbreak. Life and disorganisation got in the way of fastidious pill-taking after the trip ended, and Malarone should really be taken every day for the following week.

The headache subsided enough to reach the Mozambique Consulate to submit my visa application, which is my reason for being in Johannesburg. I had to print some documents on the way and the dude behind the counter spotted my wallet bursting with random currencies. As a collector he wanted me to pay in Tanzanian shillings, which was a good way for me to jettison leftover notes, and save my South African rand to buy frappuccinos, which I am overdosing on here. The visa submission was surprisingly smooth and more light touch than the same process in the UK. I’ll opt to do it here again in the future even though they state that technically to apply here you need to evidence employment status in South Africa first. No one seemed to bother about that stipulation, which was posted on the wall.

I walked the mile or so to and from the consulate. Johannesburg gets dealt a terrible reputation for being crime-ridden. In reality it doesn’t feel any more dangerous than many large cities, and I preferred the walk and fresh air to whisk me away from shopping centre culture, which is quite dominant, at least in the suburb where I’ve been staying to be near the consulate. The nearest thing I experienced to dangerous crime was this smashed glass on a bus stop.