City and island in Mozambique 3 letters. Tours to the island of Mozambique (Mozambique). To make your trip comfortable

Quirimba Island gravitates towards the port city of Pemba, the capital of the province of Cabo Delgado. Under the Portuguese, Pemba was called Porto Amelia - in honor of the last queen of the metropolis. They'll probably show you the way there. As they say here, language will take you to Kyiv. I hope it will reach Karimba too.

In Pemba I strike up a conversation with the hotel manager. He advises visiting the port and finding out about the islands there. Thank you, I've already visited. Indeed, you can hire a boat, and in six hours - with a fair wind - you will go ashore at Karimba. But renting the most modest vessel will cost such a pretty penny that the sky will seem like a sheepskin. This is not for our common compatriots, but, as they wrote before, for “overseas moneybags” or “new Russians.” However, it is unlikely that the archipalago lost in southern Africa is in the sphere of their vital interests.

Having assessed the situation, the manager talked with the guests and offered me another option, much more economical. In the morning, walk 4 kilometers through the whole of Pemba to the Embondeiro market, at the exit of the city. If you're lucky, you can take a chapa (open pickup truck) there to Quissanga, 120 kilometers north of Pemba. And there look for the dhow (sailing felucca) heading to the archipelago. This is how local people get to Kirimba. And in my travels I always try to follow his example.

In the morning there was a rare downpour during the winter season. And it should be noted that July in the Southern Hemisphere is the height of winter. However, when a chapa filled with passengers approached the market, someone in the heavenly office, fortunately, turned on the tap. And so we rush along the huge bay of Pemba, in which, according to local residents, all the merchant ships of the world can fit. They may be exaggerating, but the scale is impressive. Asphalt gives way to dusty primer; The potholes are getting deeper and we are gradually becoming participants in the Camel Trophy. True, no chance of winning.

By lunchtime, Chapa, covered in reddish dust, stops at the only hotel in Kissang. The owner of a visiting house is glad to have a guest - no matter what, he earns money. But to his misfortune, the guest rushes to the archipelago and hurries to the cove, where fishing scows are dozing on the sand. With a trained eye I estimate: the wind is headwind, there is no “high water” yet, which means we need to wait for the weather near the sea (ocean). Shipowners confirm: espere! Wait! They advise you to return to the hotel; if something happens, they will send for me one of the local skets, who are spinning right under my feet.

At the hotel, which is more like an inn, I am greeted like family. The hostess pours tea. A local “activist” who speaks good English sits down at the table. Vasco is the son of his era, and it was turbulent in Mozambique - a national liberation war that smoothly turned into a civil war. In the 70s, Vasco served in the FRELIMO army, smoking out the oppositionists - the "RENAMO gang" - from the bush. He was taught military affairs by Cuban instructors as part of his “international duty.” After the end of the civil war, the Renamists were amnestied; Now this party is represented in government bodies. Now Vasco is a peaceful worker in the fields. True, these fields are flooded: sea salt is evaporated on them.

Time flies by during the conversation, but it had to be ended urgently. A barefoot messenger came running with the news: the water has arrived, the wind is fair, you can load! I hastily say goodbye to Vasco, the owner of the “pensao” (boarding house, hotel). On the shore, passengers are preparing to board. I got a family of three people as travel companions, carrying bags of cassava to Quirimba.

Our sloop with a slanting sail runs merrily to the island. The shuttle tilts first to one side, then to the other. Sandbags are used as a counterweight: they are thrown from place to place. If there is not enough ballast, then passengers are used. The helmsman every now and then turns to me with respect: “Patron, change seats! Patron, move to the right!” I conscientiously follow his instructions, understanding that I am participating as much as I can in the alignment of our craft. Contemplating the marvelous sunset, I begin to think about lodging for the night: is there even a hotel on this island? The helmsman mutters something incomprehensible: “Si, alleman!”

We jump off the dhow and wade to the shore in waist-deep water. Local boys undertake to take the traveler to Pensao, counting on a reward of several hundred meticals. But they are still small; in their understanding, "pensao" is a house made of bricks, that is, something that is different from a thatched hut. And when we approach the local store, they consider their task completed. The owner of the shop is better informed and explains to my guides where to go next. The word "allemagne" is heard again. I wonder where the Germans are here from? The snotty African “Ivan Susaninas” lead me further into the interior of the island, and by the way, dusk has already fallen. In the southern regions, darkness comes instantly. When our gang finally arrives at the next stone building, it turns out that it is a private house.

While I’m explaining to the owner, the young guides disappear into the darkness. And the homeowner points to a barely visible path along which you need to walk about three kilometers to the “Allemany”. There is no choice, I continue my path in the darkness, alone, without a tongue, through the thickets, on an island lost in the Indian Ocean...

About 20 minutes later I hear the sound of a motor behind me - a motorcyclist is catching up with me. As it turned out later, the estate manager. Having delivered the unscheduled tourist to the estate, he hands over the client to the elderly German hostess. Four stern wolfhounds act as silent but attentive witnesses to this procedure. It was not by chance that this kindness was shown to me. “Without us, they would have torn you apart in the dark,” explains the estate manager, pointing to the four-legged guards. With belated fear I think that I could easily miss the motorcyclist.

Sieglinde - that’s the name of the owner of the estate - invites me into the house. She's wearing a T-shirt; For some reason, “FRELIMO” is written in large letters on the back. There is a TV in the corner of the living room. On the screen, via satellite, there is a German program. Sieglinde is not well (age!), and she is laconic: overnight accommodation - 20 dollars, frunstück - 5. I ask: should I pay in dollars or Mozambican meticals, according to the exchange rate? “I’m only interested in dollars,” I hear in response.

Outside the window there is a loud dog barking and the noise of a motor. The owner arrived in a jeep: he had spent the whole day on the plantation. Let's get acquainted. Joachim Gessner turned out to be more talkative than his wife. He "since '30", was born in Breslau (now Wroclaw, Poland). The end of the Second World War found Joachim in the Czech Republic. I just want to ask: "Volkssturm? Hitler Youth?" But I hesitate: why pour salt into the wounds?

In 1946, Joachim left Eastern Europe: the Iron Curtain was just beginning to fall over it, and he managed to slip through. I flew by plane to Amsterdam, from there to Madrid, then to Lisbon. He was not in the capital of the metropolis for long; from there he went by steamer to Mozambique, where his father had a palm plantation on the island of Quirimba. Some “dispossessed” German families fled here through Portugal. In Mozambique, Joachim met Sieglinde, and they spent the best years of their lives on the Quirimba archipelago: a hundred years between them...

The Gessners' main source of income is palm trees on 700 hectares of land, inherited by the owner from his father. A hotel for several guests is just for earning money. It is managed by the wife, so that she can also be involved in the business. As they liked to say in the Third Reich: “Work makes you free!” Copra is produced from coconuts on the plantation - now the state buys it from Mozambique. Joachim does not work for export; the conditions in the country today are not the same. I ask: aren’t the authorities taking away land, as is happening in neighboring Zimbabwe? “No,” Joachim replies. And gloomily adds: “Bye.” I am beginning to understand that it is no coincidence that Sieglinde wears a T-shirt with the name of the ruling revolutionary party. This is a show of loyalty.

In 1977, when Soviet-Mozambican ties were intense, the Gessner couple visited the Soviet Union: 5 days in Kyiv, the same amount in the city on the Neva. Now you have to get to Mozambique with two transfers, through three countries. At the same time, there was a direct Aeroflot flight from Maputo. In the mid-90s, they also visited Germany, but did not dare to go to Poland, so Breslau (Wroclaw) remained in Joachim’s foggy youth.

It's time to sleep, and the hostess takes me to the next house. As he walks, he explains: you can’t turn off the lights anywhere and go out to the ocean shore at night - the dogs will tear you to pieces! In the morning you can, they don’t touch white people. Of the blacks, racist wolfhounds recognize only two servants. The rest of the blacks are bullied, and sometimes even quartered (by the way, the wonderful French writer Romain Gary wrote about such a representative of the four-legged people in the story “The White Dog”). But there are no locks anywhere in the rooms, everything is guarded by wolfhounds. The sound of the engine soon subsides, the lights go out, and I fall asleep to the sound of the ocean surf.

In the morning we have a hearty breakfast (frunstuk), after which we go to the plantation. Joachim, who took over the functions of a tour guide, explains: copra is obtained from nuts growing on palm trees. The tree begins to bear fruit after six to eight years, but truly blossoms at the age of 40. The annual harvest from one palm tree is about fifty nuts. We go to a building that resembles a greenhouse. Nuts are brought here on a tractor and trailer, stacked on the plantation in pyramids of one hundred pieces. Using a sharp knife - a katana - the worker rips open the green shell and removes the brown hairy core. It is cut in half and placed on the metal frame of the drying unit.

When dry, the white pulp of the kernel - copra - darkens, emits oily vapors and hardens. During subsequent processing, coconut oil is squeezed out of copra, and the durable fiber is used to make ropes, mats, and brushes.

The lecture I listened to is so detailed that, in principle, one can consider that I have an additional profession in my hands. So, in reserve, just in case...

From the plantation we go to a coastal village. The first Europeans to set foot on the shores of Quirimba were Portuguese missionaries who arrived here in the second half of the 16th century. From that era, two dilapidated churches have been preserved on the island. One temple without a roof. Inside there are tombstones with barely legible inscriptions in Portuguese. Where shrubs are supposed to grow on the ruins of destroyed churches, here cacti are nestled on the walls. There are stone carvings on the columns. Near the temple there are huts and boats. Here fish is dried on a bamboo floor. At the foot of the baobab tree, a fisherman is repairing a gayola - a bamboo basket that locals use to catch fish in shallow waters.

In another temple, the roof was half preserved and, lo and behold, the tiles were not touched. Moreover, no one “capitalized” wooden window frames. The floor beams are also intact. But they could have requisitioned it in the revolutionary 70s. I know from domestic experience...

Joachim is interested in my plans. My plans are extremely simple: you need to move to the neighboring island of Ibo. And I hear from a respectable planter a seemingly frivolous, if not buffoonish phrase: “It’s an hour and a half on foot.” That is, what is it like: walking to an island in the ocean? And so. The tide begins to ebb, and until the next “big water” you can cross to Ibo along the ocean floor. It's only 6-7 kilometers. Moreover, Joachim, as a courtesy, will give me his assistant, a worker from the plantation, to accompany me. One can easily get lost in the mangroves, and the next tide cannot be canceled.

We set out for the hike in an hour, when the water recedes. It’s not that I’m timid, but it was nice to discover that we were not alone: ​​islanders were stretching along the exposed bottom. They also have business in Ibo. The dark-skinned guide, assigned by Joachim to accompany me, takes part of my luggage: after all, we will have to walk through the mangroves barefoot. A flock of local dandies caught up with us. There is a thick layer of white paint on their faces; it is prepared from the juice of the same palm trees. Amadi, that’s the name of the guide, explains that this is a nutritious mixture. It protects the skin from the sun, and at night the cosmetic mask is washed off. Everything is like white fashionistas, only exactly the opposite.

We reached Ibo quickly along the sandy bottom, but this is the easiest part of the journey. The mangroves begin, the paths run off in different directions, and without a guide you will really be lost here. I glance warily towards the ocean - how is the tide? You have to walk knee-deep in black slush, cross streams, and all under the scorching sun. Finally, Amadi comes to the shore of the island river, and we splash along its sandy bottom. And here is the desired overland path leading to the town.

It just so happened that we were the first to emerge from the mangroves. It turns out that the rest of the people followed us in a disciplined manner - on a narrow path it is impossible to overtake each other, and there is no need: after all, everyone is walking with a load. From the outside it looks quite unusual: in front is a white “Robinson” with a dark-skinned “Friday”, and behind them is a whole caravan - a chain of women with luggage on their heads and white “death masks” on their faces. And we are walking, by the way, past an ancient Portuguese cemetery.

Today is Sunday, and the town seems to have died out. There is a large barn lock on the door of the local FRELIMO office. The house of the revolutionary committee is decorated with the Mozambican coat of arms with a Russian Kalashnikov assault rifle - this is truly evidence of world recognition! The shops are also closed. It has been noticed: if a revolutionary committee appears in a city, then the food immediately disappears. And there is no longer a market, but the “supply of everyday goods” remains. We went through this and taught others...

Amadi leads me to a hotel that has been preserved on the island from the “old regime”. When entering "Casa pensao Janine" they call me by name. I turn around: it’s Pierre from France! Two years ago we met him on a ship sailing from the Tanzanian island of Pemba to Zanzibar. And now we met near Pemba, Mozambique. It turns out that he never left South-East Africa: he wandered around Kenya, Tanzania, Mozambique, Malawi. Pierre is a professional diving instructor. Having settled in the back room of another coastal hotel, he teaches wealthy guests scuba diving. This is how it feeds on the ocean. Sooner or later, his passport is filled with visas from cover to cover. And then he goes to the French embassy, ​​and they issue him a new one. Such a citizen of the world. Mainly underwater.

Pierre has mastered the Portuguese language well, and now he is negotiating with the hotel owner about a “candlelight dinner” (there are power outages on the island). The local fishermen's morning catch brought octopus; in the evening he will be the highlight of the program. The caught octopus is immediately beaten off with a stick on the shore. According to tradition, he is given 40 strokes. Every 10 strokes it is rinsed in water, causing soap suds to ooze out of it. It has been noted that such an execution causes the sea monster to “relax”, and then there is no longer any fear that its body will acquire the properties of rubber during cooking in the cauldron. After drying in the sun and allowing the eight-fingered to wilt slightly, it is boiled and placed on a roasting rack and then generously poured with a mixture of olive oil and lemon juice. The first prevents it from burning, and the second tightens the skin, preserving the original taste.

We go to the ancient Portuguese fortress of São Joao Batista (St. John the Baptist). The first Portuguese fortification was built here around 1609, after which Ibo became the second most important stronghold after the island of Mozambique, which lies 300 kilometers south of Pemba (from this island the whole country later received its name). And the current fortress of San Joao dates back to the end of the 18th century.

The Portuguese made Ibo a transshipment point for the slave trade. The French - owners of sugar cane plantations on the island - were in great demand for slaves. Mauritius. However, in 1891, Porto Amelia (present-day Pemba) replaced Ibo as a trading center, and only the fort of São João Batista continued to function at full capacity: where slaves had once languished before shipment, the Portuguese kept political opponents of the regime in stone casemates. Today the fort is abandoned, there is no money for restoration, and only a resourceful islander is trying to get a bribe from random tourists for entering the fortress. Moreover, silversmiths work in several cells.

The cathedral was also closed after the Portuguese left. Along the main street there are empty, dilapidated mansions, with socket windows and rickety doors. After the white owners leave, no one occupies them, and the wind blows inside. Local residents live in bamboo huts on the outskirts. There is also the only mosque on the island. This is a memory of the centuries during which the local population was exposed to the influence of Islam from Arab sailors, traders, and missionaries.

Through a seemingly extinct town I walk to an ancient Portuguese cemetery. It is fenced with a stone wall; This is a piece of “bygone Portugal”. The cemetery church is locked, but the crypts are wide open. I look into one of them. It once belonged to the wealthy Pereira family. There are coffins on two floors along the walls. The lid of one of them, where Francisco Pereira was buried, has been torn off. Bones are mixed with construction debris, the skull is bared in a sad smile. Poor Francisco - African Yorick!

There are more than enough impressions from Ibo, we need to return to the mainland. After all, besides Ibo and Quirimba, the other islands of the archipelago are very difficult to access, and there are no sources of fresh water there. Under the Portuguese, palm plantations were established in Matemo and Quisiva. There are also residents there, but they are unlikely to be ready to receive tourists. The islet of Rolas (Ilha das Rolas) near Matemo is uninhabited; Only seasonal fishermen can be found there. There were rumors that some enterprising enthusiasts had begun to build cottages for tourists on the islet of Quilaluia, south of Quirimba, and also on Quipaco, halfway between Pemba and Quissanga. It was assumed that there the “Westerners” would indulge in “birdwatching” - bird watching. But under FRELIMO these projects turned out to be “pie in the sky”...

How to get from Ibo to the mainland? To the archipelago, as they say, “the entrance is a ruble, and the exit is two.” After much questioning, we managed to find a place where the shuttles could take passengers on board. When asked when, I hear the answer: “A la maña” (in the morning) and “tarde” (in the afternoon). The "schedule" is based on the tide times. I decide to leave Ibo at dawn. Passengers were already crowded on the shore. No one knows whether one of the scows will go to the mainland or not. One can only guess about this by observing the behavior of the crew slowly swarming around on board. One of the “interpreters” joyfully says: “It’ll do!”

I run to Pensao to get my things. Time is running out. My belongings were collected in advance, and now I mentally say goodbye to Ibo, following “at a trot” along the stone embankment, preserved from Portuguese times. The same “interpreter” is coming towards you. He waves his hand, saying he can slow down: “It won’t work! The wind has changed. Tarde!”

By one o'clock in the afternoon the people again reached out to the scows. New clients have also increased. The local "Sadko" also trades here. It offers "real" pearls and "real" silver items. But for some reason, not to the aborigines, but to a lonely white wanderer. However, I politely decline all offers. Another half hour, and the helmsman invites passengers onto the barge. We were lucky: we walked to the landing not in water up to our waists, but only up to our knees. Our ship is a “mixed type”: cargo-passenger. The owner of the dhow has his own interests: he transports local goats to the mainland: there they will sell for a high price. Grabbing the next goat by the legs, he throws it onto his shoulders and walks towards the scow. The goat screams in a bad voice, but does not twitch: the ocean is not to be trifled with.

There is a complete set on board: “Goats and people are mixed together.” And you can set the sail. But the helmsman hesitates: he senses water in his gut, and his sixth sense tells him that he needs to wait a little longer. And for sure: already on the way, we shuffle the bottom on the sand several times from acceleration, but by inertia, coasting, we safely slip through the bank. And if they had left earlier, they would have been stranded...

We approach the shore, but I don’t recognize the bay. This is a surprise: it turns out that Ibo dhows go to Tendenangwe (Tandanhangue) - a village located six kilometers from Kissanga. The scow enters the backwater and runs firmly aground: the tide has begun to ebb. Passengers proceed to “water procedures”: waist-deep in water, with junk on their heads, they slowly trudge towards the shore, trying not to prick their feet on sharp roots. It’s good for the locals: everyone here has relatives and shelter in a thatched hut. And the nearest hotel is still in the same Kissang, and chaps will be there only tomorrow. But for seasoned islanders, after a dash through the mangroves, it's child's play. What’s worth walking for an hour and a half on a rolled dirt road, along flood fields with salt plantations! The sun sets and we enter into a competition: can I find the desired hotel before dark?

The owner of the pensao greets the guest enthusiastically. The circle is closed. “I knew that you would be with us again, you wouldn’t go anywhere. You are the first tourist here from…”. I do not mind. Really, where can I go? After all, the chapa will only go to Pemba in the morning. The housewife lights a kerosene lamp; the local engine has broken down today. Under the flickering light of the flame, I enter my “installation data” into the registration book. The owner is encouraging: perhaps a new engine will be delivered soon.

Gerben, PG5M informed the site that he and Johannes PA5X/C93PA will be active from Ibo Island, IOTA AF - 061, Cabo Delgado, Mozambique, January 28 - February 4, 2018.
Latest DX spots C8X Latest DX spots C81G
They will operate on bands 80 - 10m, including 60m, CW, SSB, FT8.
They will use HF transceivers Yazoo FT - 5000 and Elekraft K3, power amplifiers ACOM 1010 and Expert 1.3K - FA.
Antennas - 5 band Hexbeam with pentaplexer, vertical antennas for bands 40, 60, 80m and VDA antenna for 30m.
The hardware log will be uploaded several times a day (as long as the Internet allows) to ClubLog.
The country listed for the DXCC diploma is Mozambique C8/C9.
QSL information:
C8X via PA5X, ClubLog OQRS.
Address for QSL direct:
Johannes Hafkenscheid, Riowstraat 89A, Amsterdam, 1094 XK, Netherlands.
C81G via PG5M, ClubLog OQRS.
Address for QSL direct:
Gerben A. Menting, Leemdobbe 19, 9472 ZR Zuidlaren, Netherlands.

Gerben, C81G reported to the site that he had errors in the OQRS settings on ClubLog that did not allow him to order QSL direct. This error has now been corrected and it is now possible to order QSL direct.

Ibo Island - a fresh and clean look at reality

Ibo is a small island in the Indian Ocean off the coast of northern Mozambique, part of the Quirimbash archipelago, which stretches 200 km along the African coast. It is located in the southern part of the archipelago near the islands of Quirimba, Matemo, Kilalea, Mefunvo and is part of the province of Cabo Delgado. The island is subject to Mozambican and international conservation legislation, since, along with the rest of the islands of the archipelago, it is part of the Quirimbas National Park and is included in the UNESCO World Heritage List. This quiet place, far from the hustle and bustle, with a rich cultural past will certainly appeal to lovers of a peaceful holiday, not burdened by the gloss of civilization.

From the fabric island to “good organization”

The Portuguese traveler Vasco da Gama visited the Quirimbash islands inhabited by Arabs in 1502 and highly appreciated their resource and trade potential. He gave the island its name - Maluan. This was the name of the silk-cotton fabric that became the hallmark of the island. After becoming a significant Portuguese trading post, the name of the island was changed to Ilha Bem Organizada (translated as “well-organized island”), and in abbreviated form - Ibo. At one time, the island conducted an active trade in amber, turtle shells, ambergris, and beans, which became famous throughout the East African coast.

Dawn of History

In the XVII-XIX centuries. For it turns into a center of the slave trade and fights against conquerors in the form of the Dutch and pirates, which forces the Portuguese to build several powerful defensive forts, one of which, founded in 1791, Fort St. John the Baptist in the shape of a five-pointed star, has been well preserved to this day.

In 1897, Ibo received the status of capital of the province of Cabo Delgado. By the middle of the 20th century. Thousands of settlers settled on the island, transforming it into a modern cultural city with fashionable establishments, plants and factories, and at that time the local theater delighted with productions of European classics.

Time for nostalgia

Due to unsuitable conditions for shipping, economic emphasis was shifted and the city of Pemba (formerly Porto Amelia) became the capital of the province of Cabo Delgado, which leads Ibo to economic and cultural decline and outmigration of residents. Local fishermen were unable to maintain their previous standard of living. And despite the construction of a runway in 1952, the situation could not be improved. One of the most significant events of recent decades for Ibo was the holding of the Miss Mozambique competition in 1972.

To make your trip comfortable

Tourists get to Ibo mainly by plane, arriving in one of the African capitals: Dar es Salaam (Tanzania), Nairobi (Kenya) or Johannesburg (South Africa). Next, you need to board a flight to Pemba Airport, located on a peninsula 100 km south of Ibo. From there to the final destination, the journey continues on light aircraft, boats or boats. For these purposes, many people choose dhows - traditional boats with canted sails.

Of all the islands in the Quirimbash archipelago, Ibo Island is the most populated, which is reflected in the amount of housing offered to tourists and its amenities. Guests have access to campsites and more comfortable lodges - luxury hotels with an improved range of amenities and beach bungalows.

Despite the lack of Internet, tourists do not forget the island. Many people arrive on the eve of the Christmas holidays, which causes an increase in prices for accommodation. The best time for a beach holiday on the Quirimbas Islands is considered to be April-November, when there is little precipitation. The water warms up well in July-September. Local beaches are covered with sand, in some places with stones, and they are never crowded. The Ibo water area is characterized by tidal phenomena, which makes it possible to admire the ocean floor and wander around it a little. The abundance of white sand bars, dolphin games and many sea turtles add to the impressions. Another attraction is the mangrove forests.

Ibo Island, Mozambique. Photo by Roberto Walter.

Source of inspiration

In the kitchen of the restaurant overlooking the bay, you will certainly be offered to try a variety of Peri-Peri sauces, which are certainly seasoned with cooked shrimp. After such a start to the day, you can go in search of deeper impressions. First of all, it would be worth visiting Fort St. John the Baptist, which is remarkably preserved and serves as a kind of symbol of the Ibo. On its territory you can watch the work of craftsmen making jewelry and souvenirs sold locally and abroad. In the historical part of the city you can admire the preserved luxurious houses with European-Asian architecture. Some buildings are held together only by the powerful roots of fig trees, which serve as reliable support for them. Many colonial mansions have now been modernized, but have retained very beautiful carved doors. It is worth considering that Ibo is rich in art objects from the times of the Swahili civilization, which is also interesting.

Although Ibo is not the center of civilization, it is rather good and helps to experience all the delights of ecology and nature live.

Ile de Mozambique or simply Ile Island is a small island shaped like a crescent. Located in the north of Mozambique. The island was previously the capital of Portugal's East African colony and played a major coastal role.

The island is famous for its many mosques and churches and most notably for its Hindu temple. The island is divided into two parts: in the north is the old Stone Town, also called “Stone Town”, and in the south is Reed Town, also called “Reed Town”. Most of the historical sites are located in Stone Town, which has been included in the list of UNESCO World Heritage Sites.

The main attraction of the island is the Palace and Chapel of Sao Paulo with a museum displaying rare furniture and jewelry from Portugal, Arabia, India and China. Nearby is the Museum of Sacred Art, which houses religious decorations, paintings and sculptures. The island has the medieval fort of San Sebastian, located in the northern part, and the magnificent chapel of Nossa Senhora de Baluarte, the oldest in the southern hemisphere.

An excursion to the island is of great interest to connoisseurs of history and architecture.

Mozambique Island is an island off the coast of Mozambique, in the north of the country, it also gave the name to the city located on it; in addition, the colony and then the state of Mozambique received its name from the name of this island. The island of Ile de Mozambique (commonly called simply "Ile") is a small piece of land located 3 km from the mainland and connected by a bridge.

The island of Mozambique was used in the early Middle Ages as a trading base by Arab and Persian merchants. Further, thanks to its convenient geographical location, the city of Mozambique has become the largest harbor in the region. For several centuries, the main source of income here was the slave trade. At the end of the 19th century, the city of Mozambique became the residence of the Portuguese governor-general and the Catholic bishop, and the consulates of a number of European states were located here. A governor's palace, a cathedral, a customs building, and large stores of merchants from Germany, France, and Switzerland were built. The island is now famous for its many mosques and churches and its Hindu temple. Most of the historical sites are located on the northern half of the island, which was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 19991.

The main attraction of the island is the Palace and Chapel of Sao Paulo - the residence and residence of the former governor of the country, dating back to the 18th century. This building is a large area, paved with great taste with stones quarried from the western extremity of the island. Today it is a museum that contains rare furniture and decorations from Portugal, Arabia, India and China, all in excellent condition. Nearby is the Museum of Sacred Art, containing religious jewelry, paintings and sculpture. At the northern tip of the island is the medieval Fort San Sebastian, perfectly preserved, and the Chapel of Nossa Senhora de Baluarte, the oldest building in the southern hemisphere.

For tourists, Mozambique is famous for its magnificent sandy beaches along the Indian Ocean coast, diving and fishing.

Discovered by Vasco da Gama's expedition in 1498, the idyllic coral paradise of Mozambique is washed by the crystal clear waves of the Indian Ocean near Madagascar. Replete with architectural contrasts, the island's port is characterized by Arab, Indian and Portuguese influences, reminiscent of the days when it was one of the main trading ports on the sea route from Europe to the West Indies. The city grew, and various companies acquired land along the coast. Finally, the city became so large, and the houses in it were so different in style, that it was decided to somehow transform it by building houses of limestone with wooden beams, just like those that stand on the crooked streets surrounding the central square. The facades of the buildings feature cornices, tall rectangular windows with architraves and rows of decorative pilasters, while the flat roofs still help to collect rainwater as there are no fresh water sources on the island.

Due to its convenient geographical location, the city of Mozambique was the largest harbor in the region. For several centuries, the main source of income here was the slave trade. At the end of the 19th century, the city of Mozambique became the residence of the Portuguese governor-general and the Catholic bishop, and the consulates of a number of European states were located here. A governor's palace, a cathedral, a customs building, and large stores of merchants from Germany, France, and Switzerland were built. The city was divided into two parts: European and native. Until 1898, the city of Mozambique was the administrative center of the Mozambique colony, then the “capital” was moved to Lourenço Marques (now Maputo).

For tourists

Enjoy a stroll here as the lazy breeze caresses your face and the sun flits from one house to another. Bicycles can be rented at the tourist office. It'll take you 30 minutes or so to cross the entire small island, but you'll be struck by the serene atmosphere of the place, as well as the friendliness of the locals - they'll smile and tip their hat the moment you step outside. The climate on the island is even all year round, but there are two rainy seasons: February-April and November-January.