Andasibe

It’s the end of winter here in Andasibe and there is still a chill in the air. It’s warm at midday in the sun but I’ve enjoyed the change of cooler temperature for a few days, even wearing my fleece at points. I had lunch on the hotel’s terrace, overlooking a small lake. When I heard an older couple speaking English I asked them about their travels, it was nice to have some acquaintances to chat with. I had been looking forward to leaving camp and having more quiet, but after a few days alone I was ready for some conversation. Little did I know how often I’d be bumping into my new British friends! 

I had a refreshing nap after lunch, partly because I was exhausted but I think what made the nap especially good was being able to cozy up under the covers for a change. I must have slept for three hours and it was amazing. I had a little jolt of coffee to get me going and then headed off down the road for the night walk at Misinjo. As the sun disappeared behind the trees I realized the challenge of the night walk would be getting back to the hotel afterwards in the dark - the road is narrow and definitely not lit. It turned out that my new British friends had also come to Mitsinjo for the night walk so not only was I swept up into their group for the walk but they offered me a lift back to the hotel after the walk. Score! 

I’m pretty partial to my headlamp but the super strong torches our guide and the British man carried put it to shame. Mine was great for avoiding mishaps on the path but not for blasting the dark forest with light to find wildlife. It was a pretty incredible walk through the forest, surrounded  by the chirps and croaks from dozens of kinds of frogs, passing quietly along the path and coming across a chameleon and two different types of nocturnal lemurs, both the woolly lemur and the dwarf lemur. Over the course of the hike my skills at finding them improved - searching for a flash of their eyes in the dark staring back at us. I felt fortunate to be in a small group: just the three of us and the guide; when we came out onto the road we encountered a few larger groups of German and Italian tourists who simply did not understand the concept of moving quietly. They chattered away non-stop as if they were narrating their every moment, it reminded me of exactly why I didn’t consider traveling here as part of a tour group. I was a little disappointed that we didn’t see a mouse lemur, they were only discovered here in 2005 but they are also incredibly small and therefor difficult to spot.

When I returned to the hotel I inquired about my options for my return to Tana at the front desk. I could hire a car but it was still almost $95US. Fortunately meals at the hotel were even cheaper than my meals had been in Nosy Komba. Chicken in a delicious coconut sauce and a large beer was only $12,000Ar, just under $5US. The tiny shower in my hut put out fantastically hot water and I had the best shower I’ve had since I left the U.S. 

The next morning I woke up to hear the indri wailing and I was so incredibly happy and thankful to be in such a beautiful place. I headed off down the road for a guided hike through Andasibe National Park. I spotted the guide who chatted me up the previous day and he asked if he could bring along a woman who was in training to be a guide. I was happy to comply so we set off into the forest for our trek. It wasn’t long before a light rain started, we were in a rain forest after all. The rain grew heavier and I regretted my decision to bring my fleece instead of my rain jacket. The morning had been chilly but sunny so I thought I was making the better choice. Fortunately even though the rain continued at a steady pace, we were deep in the forest under the trees and didn’t get completely drenched. As long as we kept moving I kept warm - when we stopped for too long the chill started to creep in. It took a lot of time before we found any lemurs - the first we saw was a diademed sifaka. It was curled up in a ball, trying to stay dry in the rain and it looked much cozier than I felt. It seemed all of the guides had a difficult time finding any lemurs so once we found this one, the numbers began to grow as other guides and other tourists arrived. We moved on to search for indri, my guide Roberto imitating their calls sporadically to see if he could tease them out of hiding. He promised that the rain would stop and it would become easier to find lemurs.

We go to the point that we could hear the indri in the distance, two different groups responding to each other’s wails - but they were still not close. I was happy to follow Roberto off the main path onto the smaller trails the guides use throughout the forest. I would never consider myself spry but compared with some of the other tourists we were a quicker and smaller group. I was amazed at some of the huge camera equipment and tripods that people brought for this trek. I had promised myself that while I definitely wanted pictures, I would not get caught up only in getting photos, I wanted to enjoy watching the lemurs and the chance to be so close to them. So much of an experience can be lost through the lens of a camera, not only in the difficulty of capturing the shot, but more in the attention it requires, which takes away from the overall experience, IMHO. 

We finally found a family of indri and I was able to appreciate their size. When they moved through the trees they looked like furry black and white children - their appearance changes so much with their limbs outstretched. They can jump 7 meters in a single jump and are awesome to watch. When they are still it’s hard to gauge their size but the first one we found was a mother and her little baby. Roberto estimated it at about 2-3 months and it peeked out constantly with curious little eyes. It was gush-worthy adorable. I took a ton of pictures of them and promise to edit them down in the gallery. We followed the family for a while as they moved throughout the forest and even had a chance to watch them calling directly overhead, their little mouths open so wide to make those strange noises. It’s crazy loud when you’re underneath, for an idea of how it sounds check out this video.

We lucked out and saw another group of sifakas which were feeling playful now that the rain had stopped. Two wrestled and played in the trees, Roberto said they even come and play on the ground sometimes. We saw a group of brown lemurs which seem to act very much like the black lemurs I encountered on Nosy Komba. They were similar in size and made the same toe of grunts to communicate with each other. We even saw two cute little grey bamboo lemurs as we headed back to the entrance of the park. I feel so very fortunate to have seen so many critters during my trip; I was worried when the day started slowly and with rain, but all in all, I was able to see six types of lemurs over my two day visit, over half of the variety of lemur species here in Andasibe. Some like the indri don’t exist anywhere else in the world, or even in Madagascar. They refuse to eat in captivity and therefor only survive in the wild. It’s not always easy to impress the importance of conservation in the third world, it’s easy for us to say, “Learn from us, take care of what you have before it’s gone.”, especially as say so from our first world lives. The average Malagasy person survives on the equivalent of $2US a day. So it’s a relief to know that despite the poverty of this beautiful country, many native people do appreciate that there is nowhere like this on earth and are supportive of effort to conserve space and resources for the future. 

Taxi Brousse-capades

My trip back to Anatananarivo (Tana) was uneventful, I took a short flight from Nosy Be and then checked into the highly recommended Sakamanga hotel - more on that another time. A number of the volunteers had taken a taxi brousse when they initially arrived from Tana at the start of their program, so I’d heard many stories of what to expect, and quite frankly, I felt satisfied that flying was the way to go. There are few train routes in Madagascar, two, maybe three in the entire country and they won’t take you north to Nosy Be. The only options are flying or taxi brousse. So let me say this, I was happy that I flew, and I’m not a nervous flier, but each time that Air Madagascar plane touched down I felt a strong sense of relief - those planes have seen better days, its as if their fleet is made up of other airlines’ retired planes. Back to the taxi brousse, it’s a van/mini-bus type of vehicle where all the luggage is strapped down on the roof and passengers are packed into seats like sardines. The trip from Tana to Nosy Be takes 17 hours if you make good time but I knew of multiple people whose trips were… extended. Three days was the longest, which included multiple breakdowns and a night sleeping on the van. So yeah, not worth it.

That said, I did feel like a taxi brousse was something I should experience, but all the build-up made me a little nervous. I heard not to sit in the back because the leg room was cripplingly bad. I heard that Malagasy music blasts throughout the trip. I heard the vehicles are deathtraps, without seat belts if there was a crash, all the “sardines” would go flying. When I landed in Tana I had arranged a taxi through my hotel and en route to Sakamanga the driver inquired about my plans. I told him my plan to travel on to Antasibe and he offered to drive - for €100. Tempting as a private car sounded, that was far too expensive, and how could I justify skipping the taxi brousse? It’s only three hours from Tana to Andasibe, even if it’s terrible, it’s only a few hours.

The night before the taxi brousse I could barely sleep; partly because my room was located in a noisy corner and every noise woke me and also because I never sleep well when I have an extremely early wake-up. I was half-awake when my alarm went off at 4:30 so getting up was easier than ever. My taxi to the taxi brousse station was one of these Renault bug-looking vehicles that felt like it might fall apart any second. Forget airbags and seat belts, the doors were tinny metal that barely latched. I was thankful that traffic is minimal at 5:30am so the chances of an accident were reduced. As soon as we arrived at the taxi brousse station I was accosted by people trying to get my into their vehicles. There are three or four different stations in Tana, depending on the direction you are traveling, so it’s a safe bet that many of the vazaha (white person/tourist in Malagasy) at this particular station are going to Andasibe by way of Moramanga. I was tempted to select one of the empty vehicles, knowing that I would have my choice of comfortable seats in the front with decent legroom - but there was a vehicle that was already two-thirds full and they don’t leave until they are full so I might be in for a long wait if I selected an empty vehicle.

I negotiated for the window seat in the second to last row, paid my $7000Ar and stood outside, enjoying the last few moments of space, and more importantly, to watch my bag until it was secured and all of the luggage was tied down to the roof. When I squeezed into the mini-bus I realized just how limited the legroom was. I wondered how the 6’5” guys at camp did it for such a long trip. I decided it was because they were eighteen. I couldn’t sit straight, so angled into the corner and contemplated how many minor shifts I could make to survive the ride. The mini-bus filled up, there were technically three seats per row as the aisle had a fold down seat as well. There were four rows and the front passenger seat also had a fold down seat in the middle so once we got going there were 16 of us because a few kids crammed together into the same seat. The driver passed out a few small plastic bags before we started and I hoped they were not vomit bags. I felt like if someone was to vomit in this closely confined space it might be contagious. Don’t think about it… that was my motto, just don’t think about any of it. I didn’t know how to feel about the speed with which the driver pulled out of the station - it was alarmingly quick. The upside would be a faster trip,  the downside, perhaps a nauseating one. 

Getting out of town was slow and filled with exhaust fumes as we climbed the hills of Tana. Eventually we passed most of the trucks and were speeding along the R2 towards Moramonga. Let the music begin! Yes! Louder! More distorted please! We bounced along with Malagasy music blasting like we were prepping for a big night out. The scenery was breathtakingly beautiful, changing from watercress paddies in the highlands to steep mountains covered with lush green forest. With the mountains came stomach dropping turns which we took at breakneck speed. I decided it was time for the mint gum to help keep the motion sickness at bay and focused on the front window like my life depended on it. I was drowsy for lack of sleep and hoped that I would doze off, even though the speaker behind me on one side competed with the woman behind me on the other side who yelled her conversation to be heard over the music. I could tune out the noise but the jerky motions of the vehicle kept me from any type of sleep. I fantasized about the next ride when I would be sure to purchase two seats, one for me and one for my legs. I’d heard that you can even purchase multiple seats if you’re waiting for the vehicle to fill up and want to get going. Next time. When the mile markers began to show the distance for Moramanga, still 55km away, I got excited about having something to count down. We had left the mountains and were back in farmland, flying past zebu and roadside shacks and passing through small villages at what seemed like absurd speed, honking at pedestrians, bicycles and trucks as we blew by them.

We started to lose passengers about 20km away from Moramanga; we ‘d pull over and they hopped out at their intermediate destination. I was thrilled when we were able to move into newly open seats and my legs could take over the legspace next to me. I would be able to walk when we arrived! We pulled into the Moramanga station which actually felt more chaotic and overwhelming than the station in Tana. I found the ticket window and purchased my ticket for Andasibe for $2000Ar. I had some difficulty determining which van was heading to Andasibe, and once I did I couldn’t figure out who was the driver. The place was teeming with people and the minibus was already fairly full. I climbed in and found what seemed to be the only remaining seat. Unfortunately it was next to a creepy, leering guy who smelled faintly of beer and kept asking me over and over if I spoke Malagasy. I told him I did not but he insisted on trying to take the papers from my hand to see where I was going. I admonished him with a no and a stern look but he was undeterred. I contemplated my options and when someone began to fold down the middle seats in the center aisle, turning each row of three into a row of four and sliding huge bags of rice under our feet I made the call. I was going to take the lone taxi that I saw when we pulled in. I didn’t care about the ticket price but needed to figure out how to get my bag off the roof. I was able to get my ticket refunded and the taxi driver helped find someone to get my bag down. We agreed on $60,000Ar for the last leg to Andasibe - about $23US. Given that the first leg was less than $3US, I decided it was all still very reasonable. Andasibe was still 24km away, the second taxi brousse seemed less desirable with my new travel companion and while $60,000Ar was more than I’d paid for a nice dinner and was the equivalent of one night in my hotel in Andasibe, it seemed very worth the price at that moment.

I was correct, the last leg of my journey was incredibly pleasant. My driver kept the speed reasonable and I felt my body relax. In fact it was nothing like the first half of my journey; I was able to take in the scenery without distraction and at least for a while the music was enjoyable, with a vaguely Hawaiian or maybe Polynesian sound. The ride was certainly better than the alternative with my seat next to creepy guy. I arrived at the hotel and was able to check in and drop my things off at my hut immediately. The hut was sparse and the bed looked like it had seen better days, but it had its own toilet and hot water shower! I had barely finished peeking around when I heard it, the bizarre wailing of the indri. I was so entranced I just sat in front of my hut staring into the forest and I completely forgot to record it. Tomorrow. 

It was only 10am and although I was hungry, having only nibbled a small roll throughout my journey, I wanted to figure out my plan. The parks were only a little over a kilometer away so off I went down the road. I was surprised that I wasn’t seeing any other tourists, my research seemed to indicate that it was pretty easy to get around Andasibe by walking. I checked out the info at both the national park and the private Mitsinjo reserve and decided to go for a night walk in Mitsinjo later in the evening and hit the national park first thing the following morning. I set off to check out the village another mile past the park entrances. The locals along the road were quite friendly, returning my greetings but still, I didn’t spot any other tourists walking. I had passed a few mini-bus tours full of vazahas, and some private cars but that was about it. The village was very depressed and it did not appear to have any businesses catering to tourists or outsiders. I felt a lot of eyes on me and while one or two people did greet me, for the most part the eyes did not feel friendly. I had hoped to have lunch in the village but decided that instead I’d start my trek back to the hotel.

As I left the village I saw the taxi brousse I had left in Moramanga emptying out. I hoped my friend didn’t notice me but I was in the clear. It was just after 11 - I had clearly made the right decision with my taxi. During my walk I had plenty of time to contemplate my options for returning to Tana. The conspicuous lack of tourists on the road conflicted with the impression I had after reading the Lonely Planet guidebook. Even though the majority of Malagasy people I have encountered have been friendly, or at least indifferent, I was less comfortable with the idea of catching a taxi brousse back to Tana on the side of the R2 highway as the guidebooks instructed. Maybe if I wasn’t alone I would have given it a go but as it stands, it’s not an option I’m comfortable with. The taxi brousse station is near the village, a good distance from my hotel, as well as in the opposite direction from the highway. The lack of sleep is catching up with me - I still have time to figure out my return trip. For now lunch and an afternoon nap sounds just about perfect.

Veloma Turtle Cove

My final days on Nosy Komba were almost like the first days in that I couldn’t help but feel awe at the beauty of my surroundings, trying to soak in each moment and appreciate all the details.  The difference is that this time I knew it would be the last time I’d be here, at least for a while, so I wanted to imprint each moment into a distinct memory. I was fortunate in that so many of my last days were exactly the kind of reminders one would hope for in such a magical place. I made sure to visit the kittens one more time before I left. I couldn’t believe how much they had grown and how noisy they could be - I can hear them all the way in my hut when they are screaming for their momma cat. The funny thing is that the two kittens which are mostly white are much calmer than the two that are black and white. The black and white ones are already little terrors, yelling all the time and trying to scamper even though their back legs don’t fully work yet. I hope someone at camp posts pictures in the future so I can see them grow!

On Thursday morning I went for a final snorkel in perfectly calm, pristine waters; I tagged along with some of the marine volunteers who were doing a fish identification practice but when we saw a sea turtle I couldn’t help follow it. For the first time it didn’t swim off rapidly but let me dive down and get fairly close and shadow it from above. I probably swam with it for about five minutes and it was so beautiful and peaceful, I only wish I had pictures.

Every day we took the boat back to camp after our adult class I spent a few minutes sitting on the beach petting Bob the dog. I wanted so badly to bring him back with me, if not to Portland, at least to camp. He is such a sweet dog and it makes me so tremendously sad that there are still people in the village who are cruel to him. No wonder he hangs around all of the volunteers when we are there; we treat pets so differently in our culture and give him a love I doubt he gets from any of the Malagasy people. We all try to teach the children to be kind to him but unfortunately, every now and again, when a child runs on the beach he runs after them to play and they get scared and it perpetuates the whole cycle.

Remember that puppy I mentioned who lived nearby camp and we were supposed to shoo off? Well I no longer feel bad for it since it killed seven of the camp chicken’s chicks! In fact I’m glad I didn’t see the dog all week because I was really upset about the whole incident and every time I saw the chicken and her remaining chicks I felt terrible. She only has three left and she watches them like a hawk and even though I know it’s just part of the circle of life I can’t help being angry at that dog. After the staff class Friday morning the hen and her chicks were way too interested in the pots on the stove so I went to chase them off from the kitchen area when I noticed that one of the chicks wasn’t able to keep up with the others. It had something stuck to it’s legs, binding them slightly so it could still hop, but not quite keep up with mom and its siblings. I tried to catch it so I could remove the string myself but my chicken catching skills are not very advanced. I was so relieved when two of our Malagasy staff worked together to corner it and then one scooped it up and went to work removing the string. It was quite tangled and took a while and I was surprised at how gentle and thorough he was to remove the debris. I felt bad for the hen who was clearly distraught when one of her three remaining chicks was squawking up a storm but it was clear that she wasn’t going to sacrifice the other two for the one. She stayed close enough to keep an eye on it but not close enough to put herself or the other chicks in danger. Seeing it reunited with it’s family and witnessing the kindness of the man who carefully cut away all of the tangled string knotted around the little chick’s legs warmed my heart.

On Friday, my last commute from adult class to camp was like a dream. The sun was setting as it always does during our evening commute so it was already magic hour. Then someone saw a whale blow! A few people had seen humpback whales over the last few weeks but I hadn’t seen them yet. We saw two whales in the distance and our skipper turned the boat to follow them for a bit. They didn’t breach but we saw them come up to breathe a few times and it definitely made that last ride perfection. When we landed at the camp beach a few volunteers were running down the steps to find buried treasure which made our arrival even more entertaining.

Every Friday night there was a theme at camp and my last Friday was a pirate theme, inspired by “Talk like a Pirate” Day. Although the teachers couldn’t participate because of a scheduling conflict, there was a treasure hunt Friday afternoon. I heard the details over dinner and have to say it was incredibly well planned; the booty was a bottle of rum and there were a number of clues throughout camp in order to find the buried “treasure”. The sight of four guys counting their strides, skips and somersaults across the beach and then digging like dogs in the sand was pretty hilarious.

In the end, I had to pass up pirate night for a chance to go to a celebration in the village. For once I felt like my costume was really up to par with a piratey shirt, bandana on my head and a bird puppet on my shoulder, but I just wasn’t feeling it, especially when the opportunity to do something different and unique presented itself. There was a Malagasy celebration starting on Friday night and continuing through Saturday morning in the village. The woman who owned our regular lunch hangout had been hyping it all week and I had witnessed the first part earlier that afternoon. Apparently when a family has a wish for something and it comes to fruition, this is the type of celebration that occurs to give thanks for the good fortune. The first night (in this case Friday) is a party where the village celebrates with food, drinking and dancing. A zebu is slaughtered and shared as an act of appreciation as well as a sign of the good fortune for the family. The following morning a second zebu was to be slaughtered in a more formal ceremony and again cooked and shared with the village.

At lunchtime we saw the two zebu tied up near a neighboring shack from our lunch spot. A few other volunteers were very upset to see them standing there, knowing their fate was sealed. Honestly, I find the rope that goes through their nostrils more upsetting than seeing them tied up with their fate so closely at hand. None of those poor beasts has a good life; some pull carts on Nosy Be, some graze the grasses until they are sold for slaughter, none are native to the island of Nosy Komba so seeing them there is no different from seeing them in the village - they are brought to the island for one purpose alone. Perhaps it’s the anthropologist in me, perhaps it’s the former vegetarian who returned to eating meat, but I find it hypocritical for people who eat meat to get so upset seeing an animal destined for the plate. Sure, it’s easier to buy your meat all wrapped up in plastic and styrofoam, neatly packaged and looking nothing like the animal it came from. But in the end, if you’re going to eat meat I feel you have a responsibility to accept where it comes from. That doesn’t make factory farming OK and I’m not going to make this an argument for eating meat. I will say that as a visitor in a different culture, part of being a polite and respectful visitor is understanding and being tolerant of the beliefs of others. Within reason of course. I did not see the first zebu slaughtered; I came back later in the afternoon to use the bathroom and the first zebu was laid out on the beach in the midst of being butchered for the feast. There was a small crowd gathered around the zebu - a few men working on it and a larger group of boys watching from a distance. I’ve never seen anything like that myself. I didn’t stay to watch but I hoped that it’s death was quick and know that none of it would go to waste.

Morbidness aside, there was a good amount of debate about going to the village Friday night - there were only a few people interested in going and not all of them were willing to make the walk to the village in the dark. I have a pretty awesome headlamp and now that my scrambling skills are equally awesome, I was feeling pretty confident about making the trek. Luckily we were able to score a boat so everyone was pretty pleased. The moon was waning so the sky had been exceptionally dark, making the stars a hypnotic display. I tried playing with my camera settings earlier in the week but my camera is definitely not sophisticated enough to be able to capture the stars. They are mesmerizing - I doubt I’ve ever been anywhere with such little light pollution and as we waited for the boat on the dark beach and discussed the vastness of the universe, I saw a shooting star. It was all so incredible I completely forgot to make a wish. If I had remembered it would have been to come back to Nosy Komba again with Russ.

The boat ride was pretty impressive as well - even with my eyes adjusted to the darkness I couldn't quite fathom how our skipper was able to navigate us. When we glided into the beach near the village it was like being in that section of Pirates of the Caribbean at Disney World, where the shapes glide out of the dark. We slipped past pirogues and other boats, barely visible at night, and so close you could practically reach out and touch them as we passed. I had never been to the village at night and even though I had a headlamp with me I navigated through the dark until we reached the center of the celebration. Here and there children would greet us from the darkness, recognizing the white “vazahas” from a distance. Their greetings were reassuring, the village feels spooky at night, the dilapidated shacks seemed more foreboding with the shops closed and dark figures here and there. We came closer to the party and spotted a few of our adult students; they were not as friendly as usual and I couldn't tell if it was the glaze of alcohol or that we were not entirely welcome. We reached the center of the festivities where the music and dancing were located - there were many people I didn’t recognize and there were certainly more people in traditional attire than we would normally see. We watched the dancing for a while - the traditional Malagasy women have a dance movement that is somewhere between hula and twerking, without being quite as crass as that sounds. It’s pretty incredible to watch but I have nowhere close to the rhythm required to even attempt it. We partook in the food and drinks but lacked the fortitude to party like a Malagasy (which pretty much means all night) and caught a boat back to camp around midnight. It was much easier going to the village with lights in the distance to guide us; how the skipper found our darkened beach with no lights to guide us on our return trip I have to chalk up to knowing every nook and cranny of the island.

Most of the camp had cleared out early Saturday morning to head off to the beach town of Ambatiloka on Nosy Be, but I had arranged for a midday boat so I wouldn’t be scrambling to pack in time for a 6:30am boat. It was strange being at camp with so few people around. Peaceful but strange. If I had been there for a longer time I would have liked to stay on camp for a quiet weekend, it was always hard to find that kind of tranquility during the week. I was sad to pack up, and while I was excited for the rest of my journey, I felt a little nervous about the unknown ahead. As we approached Hellville on my final boat ride we saw dolphins in the distance - blowing and tail slapping, swimming from the port towards the open water. I decided it was both a perfect farewell and a good omen for my journey.