Key Takeaways
- Every month, Kristin Addis from�?Be My Travel Muse�?writes a guest column featuring tips and advice on solo female travel. It’s an important topic I c
- I sat with my new friends on Thanksgiving night in Tofo, Mozambique. Our food was slow to arrive, so we decided to pay homage to the nature of holiday
- In that moment, I couldn’t believe that I was surrounded by so many amazing people who had arrived here from various corners of the earth, all in the
Every month, Kristin Addis from Be My Travel Muse contributes a guest column to Route for Less, sharing expert insights on solo female travel—a vital topic we’re proud to spotlight with seasoned voices. Here’s her latest perspective.
I sat with my new friends on Thanksgiving night in Tofo, Mozambique. Our food was slow to arrive, so we decided to pay homage to the spirit of the holiday and share what we were thankful for.
In that moment, I couldn’t believe I was surrounded by so many remarkable people who had arrived here from across the globe—all the same way I had: through trusted word of mouth. There were two blonde Californians serving with the Peace Corps, an Australian researcher fresh from PhD fieldwork in northern Mozambique, another American who’d shown up on impulse and brought infectious energy, plus travelers from North America and Switzerland.
We were relaxed, joyful, and deeply present. Each person’s expression of gratitude was heartfelt—some even moved us to tears.
Just weeks earlier, I’d been paralyzed by apprehension about traveling through Mozambique. Information was scarce, answers elusive. All I knew came secondhand—from friends in South Africa.
Mozambique is a stunning coastal nation, a former Portuguese colony rebuilding after its civil war ended in 1992. It borders South Africa’s eastern coast and boasts pristine beaches, turquoise waters, and ultra-fresh seafood for just a few dollars.
Yet it’s not without challenges: inconsistent infrastructure, unreliable local transport (like overcrowded chapas), bureaucratic hurdles, and occasional scams.
Tourist services exist in pockets—Tofo, Vilanculos, Maputo—but beyond those hubs, roads are rough and guidance sparse.
Online resources offered mostly warnings—not stories, not context. A 2013 scuba forum cautioned solo women about appearance-based risks; a Lonely Planet Thorntree thread linked to a blog describing Mozambique as the ‘toughest country’ the author had visited—cut short due to robbery and cost concerns.
I began doubting whether positivity existed at all.
Then I remembered: Misconceptions cloud perceptions of entire continents. Africa is often reduced to danger narratives, erasing its warmth, diversity, cuisine, and wonder.
Similarly, before my first trip to South Africa, friends voiced alarm—citing Ebola (which never reached there), crime, and violence—despite official advisories indicating low risk for tourists taking standard precautions. In reality, with awareness and respect, the journey was safe, enriching, and transformative.
The same truth applied to Mozambique: my hesitation wasn’t rooted in evidence—it was fear masquerading as caution.
And then it clicked: traveling to an under-documented destination isn’t fundamentally different from any other trip.
You research visa requirements—in my case, secured in Johannesburg before crossing the border.
You consult a travel health specialist for immunizations and antimalarials—I found affordable, reliable care in Johannesburg, far cheaper than options back home.
You verify transport options: Intercape or Greyhound buses proved safe and efficient from Johannesburg to the border.
You ask locals early and often. The Couchsurfing hosts in Johannesburg gave me invaluable intel—and steered me straight to Tofo.
You arrive open, respectful, and confident: greet people warmly, ask thoughtful questions, hold yourself with calm assurance when negotiating fares or clearing checkpoints.
Traveling in Mozambique felt familiar—not foreign. I adapted as I went, leaned on local knowledge, stayed observant, and trusted my experience. I realized I’d navigated uncertainty countless times before—in cities and countries where guidebooks fell short and Google yielded silence. The tools were the same. The courage was already mine.
There were a few times…
