Just a snapshot!
Well it continues to get more interesting here. Here is a small tip for when you are in Mozambique and driving. You cross behind the traffic police in the middle of the intersection NOT in front. And one other small piece of trivia; the fine is 1,000,000 Metacais ($40 USD) if you don't follow the rules well.
We have posted before about the difficulties with driving here. The roads are so congested and there are very few if any, laws adhered to. The streets are crowded and narrow with cars stopped or parked literally anywhere and everywhere. I was speaking to a new friend the other day about driving and he said, "we (he and the other drivers) have an understanding here. No one really wants to get into an accident but close is OK." If you can imagine. But the best part of the ticket was having to go to the jail house to retreive my license. Sidenote: If we were not so honest I would have just lied and said I had no ID with me and the officer would have been frustrated with me but would have let us go. Admire the public buildings in your home towns and realize how lucky you are to have a functioning infrastructure. I am convinced that this police station was a maximum security detention center under the Portuguese. There was enough concrete to solve both the Vikings and Twins stadium issues. The walls are completely covered in black mold, like most buildings here, and the ceiling material was missing with many holes. The lights that exist have 50% or fewer of the required light bulbs so it gives off an unsettling illumination. Inside there is an old rod-iron banister that winds its way up to the seargents office. The office had broken windows and peeling paint, all that was missing was the creepy music from movies. With a little intrepedation I walked in to the Seargents office and asked in my broken Portuguese. "Can you help me?" I was kindly asked, "Falar Portuguese?" "Em Pouco", I responded. And so the seargent and I spent the next 20 minutes searching through file and desk drawers and stacks of paper to find the license that was just taken from me the day before.
I will tell you that I was nervous, but like most things here I was surprised when I left. I was surprised at how kind the people there were. I was surprised at how much they laughed while doing their jobs. Sure they may be "fairly" (please note the sarcasm) inefficient, but they are trying. This place was reminiscent of a movie that features a Russian prison. What I found funny about this incident was that I was whistling as I left and I actually skipped down the last 2 steps that led out onto the street.
So all that to say, we are learning more and more every day. Hopefully our new car will cut down on my visits to the police station, but if I find myself there again I know a familiar face and we can both help each other with our language study.
God bless everyone. Miss you all.
We have posted before about the difficulties with driving here. The roads are so congested and there are very few if any, laws adhered to. The streets are crowded and narrow with cars stopped or parked literally anywhere and everywhere. I was speaking to a new friend the other day about driving and he said, "we (he and the other drivers) have an understanding here. No one really wants to get into an accident but close is OK." If you can imagine. But the best part of the ticket was having to go to the jail house to retreive my license. Sidenote: If we were not so honest I would have just lied and said I had no ID with me and the officer would have been frustrated with me but would have let us go. Admire the public buildings in your home towns and realize how lucky you are to have a functioning infrastructure. I am convinced that this police station was a maximum security detention center under the Portuguese. There was enough concrete to solve both the Vikings and Twins stadium issues. The walls are completely covered in black mold, like most buildings here, and the ceiling material was missing with many holes. The lights that exist have 50% or fewer of the required light bulbs so it gives off an unsettling illumination. Inside there is an old rod-iron banister that winds its way up to the seargents office. The office had broken windows and peeling paint, all that was missing was the creepy music from movies. With a little intrepedation I walked in to the Seargents office and asked in my broken Portuguese. "Can you help me?" I was kindly asked, "Falar Portuguese?" "Em Pouco", I responded. And so the seargent and I spent the next 20 minutes searching through file and desk drawers and stacks of paper to find the license that was just taken from me the day before.
I will tell you that I was nervous, but like most things here I was surprised when I left. I was surprised at how kind the people there were. I was surprised at how much they laughed while doing their jobs. Sure they may be "fairly" (please note the sarcasm) inefficient, but they are trying. This place was reminiscent of a movie that features a Russian prison. What I found funny about this incident was that I was whistling as I left and I actually skipped down the last 2 steps that led out onto the street.
So all that to say, we are learning more and more every day. Hopefully our new car will cut down on my visits to the police station, but if I find myself there again I know a familiar face and we can both help each other with our language study.
God bless everyone. Miss you all.
posted by Sniders in Africa at 10/14/2005 03:25:00 PM
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