masvingo madness: wifi ghosts and stone whispers

okay, so masvingo. i landed with a backpack full of chargers and dreams of productive days in african sun. reality? the airport's a concrete slab with more dust than luggage carts. first thing i noticed wasn't the heat, but the damp - 15.47 degrees celsius, but humidity's at 97%, so it's like breathing through a wet towel. hope you like that kind of thing, because it's constant.

as a digital nomad, i live and die by internet speeds. here, it's a gamble. i checked in to a guesthouse that advertised "wifi" - what they meant was "sometimes a phone works if you stand on one leg." i've been camped at a cafe called "the cosmic bean" (i think) where the owner, a guy named tendai, says the generator only runs when his cousin remembers to buy diesel. someone told me that the post office has the most reliable connection, but it smells like old paper and resignation.

neighbors? if you get bored, harare's a few hours east with its own traffic jams and fancy cafes, and bulawayo's west with more history and less rain. but why rush? masvingo's got this ancient energy that messes with your sense of time.

i've been reading reviews like they're holy texts. on TripAdvisor Masvingo, one user wrote, "the ruins are mind-blowing, but make sure to bring your own toilet paper - seriously." on Yelp Masvingo Cafes, a review for a local diner said, "the sadza was decent, the flies were complimentary." drunk advice from a bar last night: "if you want to see real masvingo, skip the tourist traps and go to the bus station at 5 am. it's chaos, but it's alive." i'm taking that advice tomorrow.

let's talk maps, because getting lost is part of the fun. here's where i'm at:

. see that blob? that's my life now.

i carry my camera everywhere, and masvingo doesn't disappoint. check these shots:

that's from my guesthouse roof. the baobab looks dead, but it's just old and wise. then:

this market, man. i bought a "genuine leather" belt that turned out to be painted cardboard. the vendor just laughed and said, "it's for the soul, not the belt." finally:

the ruins. i went alone, early, and the mist made it feel like a dream. no emails, no deadlines - just me and 800-year-old stones.

back to the digital struggle. i'm writing this on a table that's seen better days, with a power bank that's at 10%. the humidity's getting to my laptop; the keys stick like i'm pressing on glue. i've learned to save every paragraph, just in case. the locals say the power goes out daily, so i've embraced the analog life during blackouts - pencil and paper, like a real writer.

for practical tips, i've been hooked on this forum for expats in zimbabwe where they discuss everything from fuel queues to best isps. also, lonely planet's guide to masvingo warned me about the "unofficial guides" at the ruins - they're helpful but expect a tip. and yelp's masvingo page is sparse, but the few reviews are gold: "avoid the chicken unless you like food poisoning," one said. charming.

i heard a rumor that if you slip the guard at the great enclosure $5, he'll take you to the high walls not on the tour. i haven't tried; i don't trust rumors from guys with knives. but it's tempting.

the weather's a character. pressure's steady at 1015 hpa, which means nothing to me, but it sounds science-y. sea level's 1015, ground level 893 - whatever. it's all about that 97% humidity that turns my shirt into a second skin. at night, it drops to that 15.47, and it's almost crisp. almost.

i've met a few other nomads here: a photographer from germany who's here for the stones, and a blogger from portugal who came for the cheap rent and left for the same reason. we share stories over warm beer and sadza. one said, "i thought i'd get work done; instead, i got a tan and an ulcer." accurate.

so, masvingo. it's not for the faint-hearted or the wifi-dependent. but if you can roll with the power cuts, the damp, and the general lawlessness, it's a place that sticks with you. i'm leaving tomorrow, and i'm not sure if i'll miss it or just remember it as a wet blur.

pro tip: bring a raincoat, a power strip, and patience. lots of patience. and maybe a book on ancient history - you'll need context for the stones.

that's masvingo from my damp, disgruntled perspective. take it with a grain of salt and a stiff drink.