SALAMA!!!! (Hello)

Now I know I keep saying this, but I’m almost positive this will be the last time for quite a while: I have found one of the coolest places on earth. Ifaty Madagascar is the Caribbean without the Caribbean. It’s a wonderful spot and needless to say I enjoyed my time spent there immensely. The tour continued as any saga should, ups and downs and a multitude of in-betweens.
After leaving Ranomafana we made it to Fianarantsoa (Fianar) where I proceeded to get hopelessly lost without the group. My attempt to track down a parcel I vaguely believed existed rendered me one box heavy and one tour group light. After weaving my way in and out of every side street this side of Egypt I came to a seemingly memorable name: The Tsara Guesthouse. It seemed like a good time for a beer. After the beer that followed that beer I began to grow worried. I went out and sat by the street, hoping to see the tour bus chock full of Vazaha but to no avail.
I thought about the possibility of them proceeding on to Ambalavao, guessing I’d hop on a taxi brousse for the last 45min leg of the day’s journey. At that point it was one o’clock and I decided I’d leave on my own at two. At 1:57 the bus sped by my new hangout, pulled up to the Tsara Guesthouse and unloaded the tourists. Hah. That evening we made it to the Bougainvillea hotel, and the Anja Reserve in the morning. Somewhere in the vicinity of 500 Lemur catta (The Ring-tailed Lemur) live in this small private reserve and are easy to watch and photograph. After a very satisfying lemur encounter we made the drive to Isalo.
Isalo is comparable to Zion or Bryce Canyon in the Western US. Huge grassy expanses and Carved sandstone structures abound, framed by fringing smoke and surprising lightning shows. They say that all of Madagascar burns every year, not true, but easy to believe when traveling through this region at this time of year. The locals believe that burning their land increases the productivity for the following year. Apparently this isn’t the case, but convincing them of that fact has been more difficult that you would expect. The landscape is riddled with these black scars, and the stagnant smell of smoke is a constant reminder of your proximity to the next fire. There is a massive sandstone massif that has functioned to protect a small section of forest rife with lemurs. Maki Canyon has a relatively strong tourist draw but for a very good reason. If you ever make it to Madagascar for any length of time I’d strongly recommend a stay in Isalo. Try and book a room at the Jardin du Roy. It’ll run you about 100$ a night but it’s one of the most gorgeous hotels I’ve ever seen.
We made a quick stop at the Zombitse Reserve where I made a new friend. Pictured here is George (even though it’s a female) biting me in the ear. It makes for a cute picture but is quite a problem in all reality. They are feisty and playful when they’re young, but become increasingly aggressive as they age. This one will either be caged soon or put down, depending on whom she bites first. After saying goodbye to George we completed our group journey west, arriving in Ifaty. The sand drifts can often make the last leg of the road quite an impasse but our driver did well. We spent the next three days at the Paradisier Hotel. Its name couldn’t begin to do it justice. It was pretty much my idyllic spot. The marine life was out of this world and the water was as blue as the sand was white. Shell hunting bears a whole new meaning when you could walk the whole length of beach doubled over. I was able to do two dives while I was there. Though the visibility was low for both, I saw goliath groupers, lionfish, nudibranchs, eels, rays and so on and so forth. I was quite the happy diver. I must admit it was a bit daunting to be on a dive boat where French was the only language available. I did a lot of nodding, a little bit of diagram drawing and some seriously conservative diving. No box jellies, sea snakes or sharks…bummer. After a blur of water sports and beautiful sunsets it was already time to go. Before I left I arranged a sunset sail on one of the Vezo fishing boats. I sat in awe as we passed by another pirogue capturing their prey. One fisherman slowly rows as the other two deploy the weight-laden net. Then, as one netter draws the line in the other man dives off the boat and the madness begins. One by one, 2-meter spears are pulled from the bottom of the vessel and hurled into the water around the snorkeling accomplice. As the netted loot nears the side of the rocking pirogue the spears and paddles are used as clubs to immobilize whatever attempts to escape the snare. Pictured here is one of the victorious fishermen holding up his hard-earned meal. These guys give a whole new meaning for the expression “will work for food”.
Our drivers did an exceptional job with nearly every aspect of the drive. I am able to say nearly because they made a bit of a miscalculation when pulling into the gas station in Tulear. The overhang allowed for plenty of room above the bus roof. The overhang did not allow for ANY room over the 2feet of luggage piled on the roof rack. With a sickening lurch the bus hung up as we pulled under. The driver made one of those “whoa, not sure what that was” faces and backed the bus up. As they filled the tank I hopped off the thankfully empty bus to inspect the damage. The heavy canvas tarp was dented at a very unnatural right angle. Once we arrived at the airport I was relieved to see my bags and laptop case come down intact. I was not as excited to see the bags that followed. My boss Pat had spent 200$ on an armored Samsonite suitcase that now looked like Thelma and Louise’s caddy after it’s dive into the grand canyon. Thankfully all of the other luggage could be bent, pried or duck taped for their return trip to the states. The 12-hour bus ride back to Ranomafana was quite nice on an empty tour bus and my sleeping bag never felt better.
After breakfast yesterday I began to feel a bit of a chill and by lunch I could barely stand upright. My teeth were chattering and my head was swimming. I made my way up to the tent site and hunkered down for 6 of the most difficult hours of my trip so far. Sweats followed by freezing chills were accompanied by dizzying headaches and muscle contractions. I was struggling. I convinced myself that dinner would be a good idea. After a fistful of Tylenol AM, Imodium, Advil and anti-malarials I kept some dinner down and by this morning I was back in action. I suppose it’s a Madagascar thing; just another reminder to slow the pace down a bit. “Mora mora” they say here. SLOW UP. Well veloma for now friends. Thanks as always for keeping an ear out for me.