Again we are at the most south-western point of a country. Foz do Cunene, the „mouth“ of the River where the marriage of the sweat river with the salty sea gives birth to the wind. And really: close to blowing us away.
Although there are only three houses, we have to register at the police station. Being not a very experienced writer the capitano took quite a while to write down all the details of our passport. And it may happen that they get confused about what is the name of the person and what is the name of the city where the visa was issued. That’s why I’m registered in the books of Foz do Cunene as Mr Francoforte.
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