Cafe Review: Maputo, Mozambique

Cafe: Nautilus Cafe

Location: Maputo, Mozambique

Vibe: An African take on a Parisian Cafe

It's not in my nature to sit still. There is too much world to explore and too many people to meet. So this summer I packed my bags and took a trip to South Africa and Mozambique. In Moz I visited two cities and two small villages. It was an unbelievable experience I will never forget and I am indebted to my friend for traveling with me and the strangers I met who welcomed me into their homes, quite literally. Much of what I experienced will only be fully recognized in my own head and heart, but I'll do my best to tell the tale through coffee.

I landed in Maputo in the dead of night. Driving in from the airport, I passed the run-down shops and shacks lining the city's streets. It wasn't exactly a shanty town; those are more clustered and regrettably visibly cast aside from the built-up city nearby. These walls and roofs were (slightly) more permanent. The streets were alive with men selling phone credit in bright yellow vests and locals running from shop to shop, each facade painted with white Coca-Cola letters on vibrant red concrete walls. Coca-Cola Vodacom Coca-Cola Vodacom. Building after building after building.

If I had not seen these streets lining the roads into the city, I would not have thought the area I got coffee in one morning was as fancy as I did. I took a shappa across town. Shappas are small, ramshackle minibuses the U.S. government warns Americans against riding in when abroad. There aren't many other options for transit though and even if there were I would have ridden in the shappas anyway.

On a different day, I was riding in a shappa on a main road connecting two parts of town. It was traveling fast and the 11 seat bus was packed with at least 25 people – per usual. I was lucky enough to be sitting. My seat was close to the door so you can imagine my surprise when the entire door of the shappa ripped off and blew down the highway crashing into the dirt behind us. That was an experience of its own, but it didn’t happen here. On this day, I was dropped off in front of the cafe and the shappa stayed in one piece just fine.

I got to the cafe early and there was little else open. I ordered a cappuccino and picked out a croissant from the pastry cabinet. Having stayed in a rural village the day before, this was a luxurious treat – sticky countertops and all.

On a continent known for its amazing coffee varietals, my choices were surprisingly rather limited. Not once during my time in Africa did I see regular coffee for sale at a shop. It was always a cappuccino, latte, or an Americano. My cappuccino tasted horribly, but it was satisfying all the same since I had only gotten a few hours of sleep the night before. It had a strong burnt flavor to it but that didn’t stop me from smirking at the adorable way they prepared the ever-so-airy foam on top, sprinkled with cocoa powder. It was definitely a treat. The croissant was nothing like a croissant I've ever had. Mozambicans tend to fry everything and this was no different. It tasted more like fried dough or a funnel cake than a croissant, but it was so fun trying it that I didn't even care.

I sat there for a while watching people come in and out. I could tell that the people who strolled around these streets were better-off than than they were other places I had been in the city. It was a windy day outside and my eyes focused on one man walking quickly down the street trying to light a cigarette. He passed right by the cafe and did a quick back step, poked his head, hand, and lighter through the open window, and used the inside of the cafe to shield his cigarette from the wind.

I left the shop and walked only a few steps down the street before ducking into a tiny bread shop overflowing with fresh, delicious loafs. After purchasing a loaf, I walked across the street to Lover’s Park and sat on a bench that overlooked the Indian Ocean.

Heading back towards the central part of town, I visited the city’s fish market. It’s made up of wooden booths packed with bright orange and pink fish, spotted and stripped. Flies swarmed the market covering the fish. This might have bothered me if I hadn’t visited Egypt a few years ago and shopped in markets where hanging meat couldn’t even be recognized through the masses of flies. If you’re familiar with the geography of the area, you’ll know Mozambique is a huge country that makes up a good portion of the Eastern coast of Africa. Seafood is a staple of Mozambican culture there and the fish market is the best place in the city for fresh prawns, humongous shrimp that are absolutely delicious.

Maybe I stereotyped by expecting Mozambique to have delicious coffee. It’s all an experience. Eat the seafood.