First bad luck, then luck

Time for departure to Mozambique. The trip started bad and I thought everything should go pete tong. Since I was unable to find the Mozambique consulate and apply for the visa, the bus company said that I could not buy a ticket to Maputo. You can easily get a visa at the border but this may sometimes take some time and buses are not keen on waiting for this since they can get delayed. Plan B was to buy a ticket to the border control (Komatipoort), cross the border on foot and after having obtained the visa, take a ‘chapa’ (minibus taxi) the last hour into the capital.
The departure was at eight in the morning and I managed to get to the terminal in time. Unfortunately, my trip coincided with a long weekend (first of May) and in this part of the world, it was like a Christmas rush on the public transport system. The bus arrived to the terminal over an hour late and as this wasn’t enough, everyone had loads of luggage with them. Africans seem to like travelling around with big bags or cartons with all sorts of things; household articles, bananas, food and even toilet paper. It all led to that there was about 20 people, me included, that didn’t get onto the bus because it was full. I arrived a bit late and was quite far back in the queue. After a bit of confusion, they decided to call in another bus and this arrived another hour later.
My nicely worked out plan of arriving at the border 14:35 and to Maputo before dusk had to be changed. A road accident along the way also caused a standstill and I finally arrived at the border around eightish and it was pitch black.
I was a bit worried that it should be hard to find anywhere to sleep in Maputo that late and it would perhaps not be too good to be out walking in the middle of the night with all luggage. That’s when the back luck turned into luck.
Since the bus didn’t have an official bus stop at the border, I negotiated with the bus driver to drop me off there. When he understood that I would cross the border he asked why I didn’t go further with the bus. I explained the visa issue and the driver just went “nonsense” and let me go with the bus all the way to Maputo even without ticket. My visa was even finished before the police had finished searching the bus so I didn’t even cause a delay.
In Maputo, there were taxis waiting for the bus. As I was the only white person on board (obviously a stupid tourist) they almost fought to get through the crowd to offer me a ride. I jumped into a car and was dropped off at a backpackers. I probably paid a price three times as much as the standard price but as it was so late, I couldn’t even be bothered trying to bargain.
The backpackers had also organised a pickup in the morning for three guests going to Inhambane, the same town as I was going to, so after a few hours of sleep it was just to hang on to them. This bus trip went smoother and except for sitting like a tinned sill for seven hours between luggage and a bunch of Africans, damaging half of the remaining hearing due to extremely loud music, I arrived in time and even had time for lunch in town before going to the airport to meet the others.
In the evening, everyone had arrived to Mango Beach, a lodge which was to be the home for the following four weeks.