Anybody got change for a sand dollar?

If asked to choose between Team Beach or Team Mountain, there's no contest: I'd be in a swimsuit faster than you can say SPF 75.

So I'm embarrassed to admit that, until a few weekends ago, I could count the times I'd been to the beach here on one finger. In my defense, it's not particularly inviting at first glance. Maputo is located on a bay, and four different rivers drain into it, thus the water is quite murky. And a boat ride to Xefina Island (site of a former Portuguese prison located about 3 miles offshore) showed me that it's teeming with jellyfish. If that wasn't enough of a deterrent, there are still remnants of giant columns where, during colonial times, the Portuguese strung nets in an effort to keep swimmers safe from sharks. So, yeah, I get my ocean fix a few hours north. Where, by the way, the beaches are absolutely stunning.

But Astrid stressed the importance of timing Maputo beach walks with low tide, so I decided to give it another shot. We went together last Saturday, and now I'm absolutely hooked. It's amazing! You can walk, literally, for miles. And the trash-strewn sand and maladorous air I remembered from my earlier venture were nowhere to be found.

On the weekends, the beach is a bit of a scene with vendors selling food, soccer matches, families on picnics, beach volleyball games, wedding photo shoots, and the occasional religious ceremony. But during the week, it's practically deserted.

Yesterday, I borrowed my friend Joanna's Portuguese Water Dog (hereafter known as The Fabulous Pedro) and went back. It was completely empty, save for the occasional fisherman and a few kite surfers, and the weather was perfect. We are heading into winter here, so the temperature was a breezy 70-something instead of the sweltering 100-plus degrees combined with 80% humidity we've had for last the five months.

I'm still a little leery of venturing too far out by myself, so it was nice to have TFP as company. Of course, in the event that I would actually be accosted by a band of evil-doers, it's unlikely that he would do much more than exhaust them via a relentless game of fetch. Regardless, he is splendid company!

When I was growing up, finding even a fraction of a sand dollar on a Texas beach was cause for great joy. So imagine my delight when happening upon a perfectly intact specimen while casually strolling along the sand on my very first outing. Then spotting an even bigger one a few feet further. And then another. And yet another. My hands became so full that I couldn't carry my sandals, so I started filling my pockets. I also came across a few intense violet sand dollars that I assumed were some exotic variety found only in the Indian Ocean. Turns out, I'm the idiot who didn't recognize what a live sand dollar looked like. I figured it out after my beautiful violet collectibles died a slow, grisly, and slightly smelly death on my balcony.

I now have more sand dollars than I know what to do with, but I still can't resist picking another up whenever I spy a particularly perfect one. The locals see me carrying them back to my car, and look at me like I've spent too much time out in the sun.

Fortunately, TFP doesn't mind.