Tag Archives: Vilankulo
As much as I enjoy imagining how each boat ended up abandoned and quietly falling apart in the bay, I knew that it would be a photographer’s visual smorgasbord of decay and haunting beauty (see boats. posts for more about the topic). For this reason, it was also one of the spots I was most excited to take my visitors to.
Christopher developed his film (yes, real film!) and posted some beautiful photos he took while he was here at the end of May. There are some really great shots of the graveyard and a few other moments from the weekend in Vilankulo, so I thought I’d go ahead and share a few of my favorites here.
Christopher also has a talent for portraiture. His cousin Charlie once said, “I actually like the photos that Chris take’s of me. That’s saying a lot because no one likes photos of themselves.” I think that Charlie had it right.
You can see more of Christopher’s photography on his website here.
Christopher arrived on a Thursday afternoon. I think of myself as a rather organic, “see where the road takes us” kind of traveler, but since there was so much to see and share I actually made a calendar of events so that I we wouldn’t miss anything.
I brought Christopher to work with me on Friday, where we hopped into the back of a CARE truck and made our way to Nhapele, a small village about an an hour and half up the highway and into the bush.
We were supposed to meet a group of weavers but due to rain (and the fact that the group rarely actually weaves together) there were only a few random community members to welcome us.
So I sat on a log patiently and Christopher took a jet-lag nap in the truck, while we waited for a few of the women to gather.
As a discredit to my attempt to assimilate into my community, I had yet to go to one of the only 2 dance clubs in Vilankulo. So Friday night we put on our dancing shoes and met up with several friends from work. It had been a rainy week so there weren’t many people out, but we danced ’till 3 am and had a great night anyway.
On Saturday we had potluck at Eve and David’s house. Santiago, our regional project manager who is Spanish but lives Canada, was in town, and Sara had a fellow Peace Corps volunteer visiting from South Africa. With a gathering Americans, (French) Canadians, Europeans and a variety of temporary-Africans, the night was filled with good conversation, plenty of good humor and a bounty of delicious food.
As the meal was winding down, we, full and happy, made our way to the couches and watched a movie on the projector.
Now, I guess I must make a public announcement at this point. It seems that my visitors have a tendency to pick up strange skin rashes and bumps when they visit. Alexi did. Christopher did too. (No, it’s not my arm thing; I have been selfish and kept my fungus to myself.) Both their symptoms seem strangely similar – red, bumpy spots clustered on elbows and the upper butt area.
Now one of my favorite parts of having old friends come to visit is not necessarily the big events and grandiose gestures, but often the subtle moments when friends can sit and chat, read a good book or watch the sky and quietly enjoy the other’s presence. That sort of grace is often reserved only for those friends who have know each other so long that you don’t have to concern yourself with filling each moment but instead simply know the value of calmness.
That being said, on Sunday we made our way to Casa Rex – the local fancy shmancy hotel and spent the afternoon drinking real coffee, reading, talking with passperbys and basically enjoying the simple pleasure of being on vacation.