Our Disaster Holiday In Mozambique

Worried Wanderer567 views

Let me tell you a little story about my first international holiday with Tyrone. We had only been seeing each other for about a year, and we decided to spend a week away in Mozambique.

I had it all planned out. I found the perfect accommodation. It was near Barra Beach Resort and Flamingo Bay Water Lodge, in Inhambane. When the tide rises, we’re cut off from the nearby resorts. It was our own private island.

If, by private island, I meant hell hole!

Our Accomodation

The units were self-catering chalets equipped with a small gas stove. There was no TV, microwave or simple luxuries. We didn’t even have a fridge. The owners had mentioned that it had broken down before we arrived and they were working on getting us another fridge. We never got it.

The weather seemed to match my mood, with continuous rain for the first 5 days. There was one day of sunlight, but we couldn’t really enjoy time on the beach because of the gale force winds. I kid you not, I spent a good 10 minutes sprinting across the beach trying to catch our umbrella.

Our nights were spent playing solitaire and reading, while it poured down. There was no way we could visit nearby restaurants and bars because our cute little private island made it impossible.

Let me tell you something about changing tides. Crabs… Crabs come out from EVERYWHERE as soon as the low tide kicks in. At one stage we were making our way back to our hell hole in ptch black darkness, and we had to cross the stretch of beach that disappears during high tide. I’m not an incredibly squeamish woman, but as Tyrone shone his torch towards the ground there were hundreds of crabs. I’m talking worst nightmare type crabs. As the light would hit them, the crabs would scurying off in a panic across the sand.

So picture this – millions of crabs covering the floor, running in opposite directions while Tyrone shines his light and I scream and cry intermittently.

I had hit rock bottom.

Calling It Quits

We decided to head home early. The rain wouldn’t let up and it just didn’t seem worth it to stick around.

Finally, driving away I figured our luck would have to change. It can only go up from here.


One our way back to Johannesburg, South Africa a lady carrying a mountain of plastic bottles stepped into the road as we drove past. Tyrone was driving and had to swerve and slam on brakes to avoid hitting the woman. I saw a fountain of blue bottles rain down, as the car locked and skidded through a garden nearby. I was convinced we had hit the woman.

Luckily, we hadn’t. We were all a bit shocked, but relatively unscathed.

Then further along, we crossed the border. The sun had set and I had fallen asleep. I woke to a wooden pole slammed into my side door.

Again, the car had skid out of control as Tyrone slammed the breaks to avoid a dog running across the highway. I couldn’t open my door. The full side panel was caved in. luckily only the car was damaged.

We could not get home quick enough.

The next week was spent chatting to insurance companies and bumming rides with my friends. This was by far, the worst holiday experience I have ever had.

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