Prune jumped out of the Audi’s boot. She pricked up her ears, taking in the sound of leaves rustling in the light breeze, the call of a blackbird perched in a cherry tree. Her nose twitched, distracted by the scents in the warm air. Then her face broke into a smile and her tail swept back and forth ferociously. She remembered this place! Her emotions mirrored mine- if I had a tail I’d have wagged it too. It was a beautiful July day and we were back in the Loire- our favourite place in France.
A motorbike pushed its way through the traffic. Another followed, then another. Some had the whole family on board. A man carried two goats under each arm on another. A small car decided to follow the motorbikes, forming an 8th lane where there was space for two. The pretty face of a Bollywood actress smiled down from a billboard, urging us to drink Coca Cola. Kids sold cheap plastic toys whilst the light was red and a cow blocked the road when it turned to green, to be met by a chorus of hoots and horns. We sped off, into the chaos, our windows open, the car soon filled with fumes and warm tropical sunshine.
Postcards, ticket stubs, keychains, shot glasses, magnets, napkins, receipts, boarding passes. The list of pointless souvenirs and momentos we find ourselves bringing back from our holiday is endless. Each flight we take, each restaurant we eat in, each museum or concert or park we visit, we insist on buying/keeping/stealing (ok maybe not the last one) something to ‘remember’ our trip by, only to be dumped in a box or the bottom shelf, to be discovered again when moving house.
By now you must have realized I often get an idea in my head that I get set on and then have to carry out no matter what. Learning to surf was one of them. I’ve had this fascination with surfing since I was small; I used to watch those ads for Roxy and wonder what it felt like to be enclosed by a wave. Obviously those were professionals, but I had to start somewhere and began to research where I could learn.
Mozambique, just the name sounds exotic. Although I saw very little of the country when we visited, there’s no doubt that this once war-torn country can’t stay under-the-radar for much longer. From the long arcs of cinnamon sand shelving into the Indian Ocean, to the heavenly mangoes that seem to fall from every tree, Mozambique makes the perfect post safari flop.
