“Take extra care” reading the travel advice for Mozambique on the US Department of State website. I do know they mainly consult with terrorist attacks by Islamic extremists in the north of the country. But in the idyllic south, near the Bazaruto Archipelago National Park, my biggest concern is mosquitoes.
While a few of these thirsty little bloodsuckers are carriers of malaria, I consider them no worse than in the states.
Twice the size of California and shaped like a Cheeto, Mozambique lies off the southeastern coast of the African continent. Its 1,616-mile coastline spans the Indian Ocean, a body of water bluer than the largest box of crayons. It was no accident that my first hotel in Mozambique was named Santorini (rooms from $639).
![The Santorini resort in Mozambique is a vision ripped from Greece.](https://nypost.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/NYPICHPDPICT000007792428.jpg?w=1024)
This can be a luxury villa positioned roughly 7 miles from the coastal town of Vilanculos.
The white partitions of Santorini are so whitewashed that they dazzle. And its vibrant blue rooftops persuade me that I spend half my time in Greece. But most of all, I concentrate to the pristine white sand beaches of the province of Inhambane.
The Santorini boat captain takes me on a day of island hopping and snorkeling, and despite my best efforts to identify one other tourist or perhaps a piece of garbage suggesting their existence, I am unable to.
![Did we mention that Santorini has a houseboat?](https://nypost.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/NYPICHPDPICT000007792418.jpg?w=1024)
Nevertheless, we encounter a herd of playful dolphins.
I all the time come to Africa with Luxury Safari Company. Normally they send me to the bush (which I like) but here in Mozambique there is no such thing as a pressure to see Africa’s Big Five. In actual fact, most Americans who come to Mozambique accomplish that after happening a safari in neighboring South Africa. Travel agents attach it to safari packages as an addition to the beach. And rightly so: beaches in Mozambique are like Cancun without smelly seaweed, Bali without drunken Australians and Australia without sharks.
I am unable to complain about the kitchen either. Although he’s never set foot in a Michelin-starred restaurant, Santorini chef Mufume holds the recipe for the world’s best fried calamari – caught near the hotel. He also in some way manages to serve me a fillet of beef nearly as good as the steaks I get back home on the family’s Black Angus cattle farm.
At some point for lunch, I eat dinner in the resort’s garden, surrounded by plants growing in virtually all the fruits, vegetables and herbs that pile up on my plate. It’s mango season and the locals eat them whole like apples.
In keeping with the World Bank, two-thirds of Mozambicans survive lower than $1.90 a day. They are resourceful individuals who don’t let anything go to waste. Santorini boat captain Ignacio tells me that islanders keep their phones in the event that they can afford it, charged by solar panels in the event that they can afford it.
“Individuals who haven’t got solar panels are having babies,” says Ignacio. He’s serious.
![The Sussurro resort in Mozambique features traditional-style huts.](https://nypost.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/NYPICHPDPICT000007793465.jpg?w=819)
![There are also less traditional luxury pools.](https://nypost.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/NYPICHPDPICT000007793477.jpg?w=1024)
After three great nights in Santorini, I head north sussurro (rooms from $686).
My rider is Mario Andretti from Mozambique, who literally interprets “speed” in speed bumps. The last section we take is directly on the beach. At one point, I watch us go 90 mph – until the truck overheats and we come to a whole stop.
We finally reach the resort, where six luxurious (although air-conditioning is MIA) traditional huts cling to the shoreline of a Listerine-colored lagoon.
![Stylish rooms at Sussurro start at $686.](https://nypost.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/03/NYPICHPDPICT000007793431.jpg?w=1024)
The captain of the Sussurro boat, Jose (“J” just isn’t silent), picks me up one morning in a conventional dhow. I would like to see the dugong, the elusive African relative of manatees, but a recent cyclone has destroyed the seagrass they feed on, so all I see is miles of mangrove trees. We sail past a fishing camp, where I wave to a fisherman who responds only to me. His hands never leave his hips. I feel he saw me taking pictures of his homemade fishing net. Jose tells me that net fishing in the lagoon is unlawful.
Later, in the library of Sussurro, I read in a book on Mozambique customs that it is taken into account rude and incorrect to not wave back. There may be even a well known saying in the country that “greetings are free.” (It doesn’t include the local camera’s crime recording protocol.) But my favorite Mozambican proverb is, “In the event you don’t travel, you may marry your sister.”
At this rate, I’m not too frightened about my brother’s engagement, and I’m glad I got here here, irrespective of what the U.S. State Department says. Sure, “taking extra care” won’t hurt, but in my experience barking will likely be worse than being bitten.
Judging by the only mosquito bite I get after per week here, I feel I’ll survive.