Boas coisas não duram para sempre

Good things don’t last forever.

Ilídio said this in our final Portuguese lesson (for now, because I’ll hit him up on visits). His arrival at my flat timed with the arrival of two blokes from the company that will transport my boxes of stuff from Maputo to Dar es Salaam. As they repacked my things way better than I had, which saved me space and volume charges, our final Portuguese lesson was more of a ‘practical’, chewing the fat with the packers. After this we drank juice and ate crisps outdoors and we thanked each for the camaraderie and spirited debates of the last few years. Portuguese with Ilídio has certainly been one of my highlights of living in Mozambique, even despite his preference for complicated grammar exercises over basic conversational skills.

Staying close to home as my passport is somewhere in the corridors of the Migração office, I ventured to the nearby café for a final snack of café com leite and bolo de arroz. With a sneaky pastel de nata having found its way onto the plate as well. Portuguese custard tarts are going to be very rare commodities in Tanzania.