40ºC in the shade

We continued onwards with the onset of the setting sun, south to Morondava. We arrived as the light was dimming. Unlike the typically large cityscapes that are surrounded by tall cement forests of buildings, the light in Morondava seemed to linger on the low horizon. Upon arrival at our temporary dwelling at Le Trecigogne, my immediate impulse was to take a real shower. I wanted desperately to soothe the burning of my skin and remove the remnants of the dusty red earth and sweat from my pores.

Shortly after enjoying a large Langoustine feast, I was presented with a chocolate cake. It was a no bake frozen chocolate cake: lady fingers, a touch of rum, and cacao powder, that was pureed and frozen. There was a running joke between my Canuck friends and our pirate. Since arriving I had been searching for the elusive Madagascar chocolate, but sadly my quest was not a fruitful one. As I found out later Madagascar cacao is a highly valued exported commodity, but not very accessible within Madagascar as one might think. I took the simple pleasure; my cake sent me giddy into the night. We walked back parallel to Nosy Kely beach towards the hotel. It was a beautiful night, with a canopy of stars unlike what I am used to. With the Milky Way stretching far and wide across the sky, I felt as though I could reach out and actually grasp for the shooting stars.

We had not intended to stay the entire day in Morondava, but the extreme overload to our senses was enough to take a day and night of rest. I awoke late and departed even later, slowly sauntering through the ridiculous heat. I walked along Nosy Kely in search of a working internet connection and then further past into town. It was at this moment that my sunburn went from a minor aliment to a major turbulence. By the time I was midway through the market, my shoulders, despite the repeated applications of sunscreen, were lobster red and painful to the touch. I walked the narrowing streets trying to find a mobile phone and some film. Like most tropical countries though, by the time I reached the Orange boutique, it was closed for siesta. I hunted for shade or anything that would cover my searing skin a bit. I proceeded rapidly trying to find my way back from where I came. My lucky strike was finding 10 rolls of colour film on route. I worried, with so much road ahead, the diminished film count was going to become a problem. Back at the hotel, I slummed like worn ocean driftwood under the roof of the hotel’s café, trying to moderate my disposition. It was several hours and a shower later, before I was able to pick myself up and muster the motivation for a swim in the ocean.

Rambling

We literally rambled at a rate similar to that of a turtle, using small movements to ensure we did not miss anything mystical in our surroundings. The light was intense and for me it felt like all my senses were in a heightened state. The excitement of the entire day still issued a constant stream of endorphins from my head to my toes. I felt like I was jumping out of my skin, skipping through the avenue with my camera in hand. Of course my feet stayed on the ground and I was not skipping, but I swear at one moment, my heart leapt out of my chest. It was majestic and overpowering being surrounded by mother nature’s glory. Baobab trees on the avenue are, on the average, 1000 years old and 28 feet around the base. They also, astoundingly, hold about 1500 liters of water. How can one imagine being around for 1000 years or, even more fascinatingly, being filled with 1500 liters of water? Amazed, bewildered, and dwarfed in the vastness of the Malgache landscape, I felt emotional. I had several silent moments, alone in my head.

Our pirate explained that these baobabs are the legacy of the dense tropical forests, which once stood in the Morondava region. However, like may areas, due to population expansion, the forests were burned and decimated, leaving only the baobab trees, which currently exist because they are still being used in religious rituals. Although from his accounts, as traditions have changed over the time, religious rites have become secondary to the sustainability of one’s family. Our pirate also explained that Baobabs were once thought to contain medicinal properties, although he could not explain what ailments the bark was used to heal. Over the course of our days in remote areas on the Tsiribihina, we saw forest fires, which seem to be the fastest and easiest way to clear the land for crops. Between the thick jungle grew the season’s harvest of sugarcane, corn and cassava (manioc), which are all staple foods for Malgache families in this region.

In that moment though, the trees, the light and the company were enough to over stimulate the senses. In that brief instance of time, I had no conscious thoughts of anything other than how breathtakingly beautiful it was loitering among the trees, as the light danced in the sky, creating silhouettes with the landscape. As we reached the end of our passage, the sunset marked the end of a glorious and fateful day.

Majestic Happenings

It was again another hot day, on the onset of our zebu carting, but we had some semblance of comfort as we were travelling mainly under large trees, tamarind, bamboo and palms. By the time we arrived at the 4x4 jeep, the humidity had increased ten fold and sweat was literally dripping from my face. I was overwhelmed with the heat, but the feeling of excitement overshadowed those of the blazing temperature. We drove through narrow passages carved out of the landscape caused by constant flooding. Monster sized butterflies and a multitude of birds, took to flight as the jeep raced through a land barely touched by humanity. We twisted and turned, bumped and knocked heads as the jeep struggled to keep a swift pace. We stopped the first time in small open-air market. Upon getting out of the jeep, my immediate concern was not what to eat, but rather desperation to tinkle. I was directed down the road to a pile of sticks and leaves, where I did my due diligence in a relaxing enough position to make minimal progress. A female squatting on leaves hidden behind a small leafless tree is not my idea of paradise, although I should be thankful given that it trumped some of the outhouses we had frequented over the previous few days.

As I walked back to meet my group, a young man approached me holding a small golden brown lemur. Lemurs have what can be described as the face of a fox with monkey-like hands and feet. The name "lemur" comes from the Latin word "lemures", which means "spirits of the night". However, Roman mythology suggests its meaning is more like “spirits of the dead", due to their nocturnal habits and ghostly reflective stares. Lemurs have huge eyes and understandably intense stares, although curious and gregarious in nature. The young man motioned for me to come over. To my surprise the lemur was tentative but placid. I let him smell my hand the way you would with any unknown animal. As a result of my disposition the young gentleman very tenderly handed me his lemur. The creature vaulted on my shoulder, as I continued to caress it’s back and the top of its head. It was so soft; its fur much like a wooly rabbit, with the soft humid pads on its limbs. He was adorable. As I braced the lemur on my shoulder, the trainer and I walked back to the middle of the market, where I bought a few green perfectly plump bananas, one to feed my new lemur friend. I was amazed at the rate of demolition, as the critter inhaled his banana with lightning rapidity. His table manners were clearly missing. At the end of his meal not only was my hungry friend covered in banana; so was I; with pieces of gooey fruit in my hair, my cheek, chin and neck. The lemur clearly still hankering for more nourishment, started to lick my face, using his opposable thumbed hands to hold my chin and cheek as he groomed me.

We continued driving through mud flats and eventually through beautifully lush landscapes. As the day progressed we ventured along long stretches of unpaved roads, the red earth peaking out from under the plants and guiding us along the way towards the enchanting land of baobab. We traversed, passing huge sisal plants, thickets of palms and marshland filled with blue water hyacinths, in search of Les Baobabs Amoureuse. We stopped a few times before reaching the mystical site, where two trees have grown intertwined with each other. It is said that women can cuddle the two trees to improve fertility. Akin to most countries, folklore plays an important part in the rich history. It is a sacred site and as a result of it’s remote locale, it rests on a long a dusty dirt, albeit very romantic, road. From there we continued cruising towards Les Avenue des Baobab, our first view of the avenue of trees was majestic. A sense of excitement and bewilderment flushed through me, as this was one of the primary rendezvous points that I had been looking forward to seeing since landing. It all culminated in a moment where reality exceeded expectation.

Fearless and Rattled

We continued on the boat journey, elated and giggling as our barge was swept seawards. We stopped several times, the first for lunch. We ate at a little open air structure; essentially a wooden canopy with a small counter for food preparation and storage and a table with several benches running across, large enough for three people to sit. We sampled fried minnows and drank as much water as we could consume in the extreme heat. Yvette; our chef continued to supply us with food, as we took in the rural atmosphere. Sitting between the chickens, hens, cats and dogs, the brave ones of our troupe sampled wild fruit bats. It was served as is, thereby eliminating any doubt about what we were about to taste. I avoided the wings and literally closed my eyes until I had a small sampling in my mouth. Fruit bat was not quite what I had expected; it tastes much like chicken or rabbit. It is a lean white meat and truthfully not as meaty, nor nearly as gamy as one would expect. It was better than some of the zebu dishes I had, and in retrospect, better than the chicken I had a week later.

We walked briefly through the town, trying desperately to escape the heat. It was one of those days where the heat is so intense, the body literally bakes and steams in the sun. This was also the day I caught my first real sunburn, which clearly is not meant to happen given my natural pigmentation. The sun is unlike any I have encountered before, despite having traveled numerous times in conditions of 40ºC+. Never have I been as beet red, despite bathing frequently in my SPF 50. As we collected ourselves and hopped back on the boat, a pirogue slid in beside the barge. Aboard was a French couple; who both appeared to have been through an inferno of sun. We offered them passage until Morondava, as it was apparent that they could go no further aboard their uncovered pirogue. This was something the trio of Canuks understood immediately, having our own concerns with the extreme conditions. That afternoon the five tourists, the pirate and his crew drifted another 40 kms.

We stopped to watch a cluster of lemurs bouncing from the treetops, half-hidden by the shade on the shore. We wandered under the canopy of tamarind trees trying to get close enough to see the expressions on the faces on the two species of lemur we encountered. After several hours sailing on the Tsiribihina, we landed on the banks of yet another small town where our tents were raised for the night. This was the place where our boat odyssey concluded. We ended our day eating by candlelight trying to avoid the infestation of moths and went to bed early enough, as we knew the following day would be an arduous one.

I had a hard time sleeping that night, just too hot and humid, with the constant buzz of mosquitoes and overall excitement. The distractions kept me wide awake, peering out at the huge sky full of stars. I woke early the following morning, smiling and excited to start a new phase in my life. It was as though, all this planning, hoping, and the years of wanderlust had finally paid off. I was in Madagascar on my birthday, in the middle of nowhere, with new people and a new sense of adventure. I was still feeling the natural high from our magical moments in the tobacco factory and even more so from our experience with the children the day before.

We had our last meal of coffee, toasted baguette, jam and zebu butter aboard our barge, prior to our ride in what the locals called ‘zebu 4x4’. This was literally a wooden cart, being pulled by two zebus. We were hauled, tossed and shaken for close to one hour, through marshes and swamps filled with water lilies, under tamarind trees and eventually through rice paddies. After an hour of zebu carting, we made our way to the waiting 4x4 jeep: where the trio, the duo and the pirate climbed-in for a full day’s drive, headed towards the Avenue des Baobab.