Martian holiday

The thing I like about flying at night is seeing the cities all lit up below you, sprawling spiderwebs glowing on the ground. Leaving Tana in the dark you don't see anything, despite the huge area it covers; just a few sporadic points here and then. Arriving in Mauritius, on the other hand, is like coming back to the world you know. There are fully paved streets, sleek new shopping malls, even stop lights that work and tap water you can drink.

Mauritius is a funny little island that has taken full advantage of its tropical environment and strategic location. The white sand beaches are lined with trendy resorts and chic boutiques, while the economy is booming from trade between Europe, India, and Australia. Walking along a downtown street you'll see shops selling saris and silk, denim and diamonds. Driving around, the hills are still covered with sugar cane and workers pedal their bikes to and from work in tall rubber boots.

I had the pleasure of exploring this island on my day-long layover with a pair of Spanish lads, firefighters from Barcelona. We rented a car for the day and drove all over the island, which involved us getting lost and the two of them arguing in Catalan like an old married couple. Our convoluted path took us to the center of the island, past peaks that looked like a home for King Kong, then back to the northern coast, where we soaked up some rays on a white sand beach and swam in the crystal clear water. It's no wonder this is such a popular destination. After a walking tour of Port Louis, the capital city, we finally found the well-concealed bus stop that would take me back to Mahebourg, on the southern tip, and my long wait for my flight to India. Who schedules a departure at 2:30 am, anyway?

The Bay of Bobs and other adventures

Now that Sarah and I are back in Tana, waiting not-so-patiently for pictures to transfer from one device to another, the sun and sand of Morondava seem a very long time ago. We had the experience of running around a tourist spot before most of the tourists were actually there. Restaurants and hotels were empty, and there were only a few pale bodies on the beach (mine included - no, that's not a beached beluga).

One adventure was searching out a vehicle in which to play in the water. If there's an ocean, there must be kayaks, right? In a land where the boats are hand carved and wooden, not so much. Our quest took us from one place to another, asking for kayaks and getting blank looks. Eventually we followed a faded poster to a certain beach-front establishment, and after much hemming and hawing, they produced a pair of plastic, sit-on-top kayaks from under a palm tree somewhere. Kayaking is not a high-demand sport around here.

We shoved off from the beach and paddled around in the shelter of a little sandbar, getting confused looks and bemused smiles from natives on land and in the water. Their looks said "What's wrong with your pirogue? It's plastic and flat, and you're girls!" It's pretty rare to see women sailing or paddling the wooden canoes. Well, if they're going to stare, we might as well give them something really exciting to look at.

That was all of four days ago. Sarah and I have errands to run in the big city before catching our ride to the airport and taking leave of this crazy country. She's headed for home and a summer in Rhode Island, naming off all the foods she's going to eat and people she's going to see, excited to get back to the states. I'm at the opposite end of the spectrum, saying goodbye to my wonderful sister and travelling companion, and striking out on my own. Our bodies are in the same place for now but our minds are going in opposite directions.

Ack!

That one word pretty much sums up our taxi-brousse ride yesterday. It's an expression Sarah's fisherman friends on the west coast use, to express dismay, surprise, anger, fear, etc. Our driver yesterday was hell-bent on arriving in Tana AS SOON AS POSSIBLE, and drove accordingly. If this required passing other vans going uphill around a curve at upwards of 110 km/hr, so be it. The gorgeous Malagasy landscape flew by surprisingly fast, from flat green rice paddies, to rolling hills scarred with red erosion gashes, to the tight ridges surrounding Tana itself.

50 km from Tana, passing our twentieth truck of the day, we heard the distinct sound of air escaping from a tire. Sure enough, there was a flat. Out we piled to watch the sun set over palm trees and thatched huts while our driver and his helper changed the thing in 5 minutes flat - this includes jacking up the van, untying the spare from the roof, replacing said tire, and lashing the flat back on top. At this point the gas light had been on for at least 20 km, and the driver was giving the fuel gauge nervous glances. Yet somehow, by some quirk of Malagasy machinery, we made it not only the 50 km to Tana proper, we made it through stop-and-go traffic and several police check points.

The "ack" of the trip came as we made our way into town in full-blown rush-hour traffic. How the taxi fit through those streets, let alone the flow of traffic coming the other way, bikes darting in and out, people rushing everywhere, is beyond me. The thing about sitting in the front seat is that you get a full appreciation of all the near misses with other vehicles, bikes, and animals. For most of the ride the only thing that escaped our lips as we held our breath was "ack!"

Holy leaping lemurs, Batman!

If you've got an atlas in front of you right now, turn it to Africa. Madagascar is the large island off the south east coast. The capital city, Antananarivo, is on the east side in the center. From there, draw a line to the north east and where it hits the coast there's a city called Mahajanga. Can you see me? I'm waving at you!

Sarah and I made it here midday after hitching a taxi-brousse ride from Ankarafantsika National Park (try saying that - or any Malagasy name - 10 times fast). It's kind of like riding in Mary Poppins' bag, with a bunch of strangers and a good number of chickens. You'd swear the vehicle was completely full, and still people managed to continue hopping on. Personal space is a concept that's entirely relative.

The stay in the park was made entirely worthwhile by the troupe of 4 Coquerel's sifaka that hung around the camp site. There's nothing like waking up in the morning and watching them leap their way across from tree to ground to stump and back up again. We found these guys in the bush as well, wrapped around branches and watching us with their big yellow eyes. What I wouldn't give for opposable toes and a prehensile tail....

My body is constantly reminding me that I've spent the last two years in cold to temperate climates. I hope someday my fingers and toes return to their normal size - they currently resemble twenty little sausages. Despite that, we're all doing well.

Love,
Em

Muddling through...

After approximately 25 hours of flying, I'm sitting in a small internet cafe in Antananarivo, Madagascar, battling it out with a French key board (the computer is winning at this point). My wonderful sister came and found me at the airport last night but couldn't seem to locate my bags. I believe they've eloped to Paris - I'm expecting the wedding pictures to show up soon.

What a crazy place! It's odd to even be in a city, with sidewalks and cars and buildings everywhere, never mind a foreign country. Sarah has been giving me a crash course in Malagasy language (fifibe = chubby cheeks, for example) and culture (the guys really like white women). All that high school French is slowly filtering its way up from the muck of my memory, even though my first instict is to start throwing Italian hand gestures.

The cobble streets remind me of Italy, the smells of warm garbage and dust remind me of India, and I can't wait to go explore this new country. Once my bags are done with their honeymoon, of course.

Love,
Em

Thank you, Montana!

I'm back in Oregon, and it's spring - what I'm lacking in Vitamin D, I'm more than making up for in chlorophyll. Still, as excited as I am to see the trees and ferns and moss, there's still a part of me strapping on snowshoes and trudging uphill for just a few more turns. It was an awesome winter, so thanks Montana and all of you there. See you next winter.

I've got a week before I hop on a plane and head very, very, very far away. Wish me luck, I'll try to keep this thing updated. Take care, wherever you're reading this from and whatever you're up to!

Love,
Em