A Mozambican Train Journey

I successfully made my way across the Malawian border and into Mozambique, a beautiful land where I didn't really know any of the language - Portuguese - but where my name is on billions of milk cartons and in Portuguese means Honey.

With my time to return home drawing closer, and being a long way away from where my plane would leave, I decided to just briefly travel up the northern Mozambican coast. This meant getting across to the other side of the country, which I did by using another train.

I handily met some other travelers who could speak Spanish just before getting a ticket and so after stocking up on delicious pastries and cakes (!!!) from one of the many bakeries, we set off together in our own carriage.

Being with people who had the ability to speak a language at least a little similar to what is spoken by lots of the people living in Mozambique was very usefully as pretty much no one speaks English there, and if they do then it's only a few words.

The journey was very beautiful passing huge granite rocks and lots of little villages with thatched roofed houses, and also having the now more familiar opportunity to buy all sorts of food from pots on people's heads out of the train windows at each stop.