Madagascar: Baobabs, Good Rum and Lemurs Galore!

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MADAGASCAR- THE RED ISLAND: LEMURS, BAOBABS, MUSIC AND VANILLA

Wow, what a journey. I had wanted to go to Madagascar since I was nine years old and saw a little baobab tree (one of the most unique trees on earth). For three weeks I lived out of my backpack, traveled with my good friends Earl and Filip and was in a completely different culture. I always feel that I grow so much as a person when I strike out on the road. I think personal journeys can happen in other countries or just down the road. It is all in the attitude. If I project my way of thinking on wherever I go, I never learn a thing. If I travel with open eyes and an open spirit, I learn so much. The beauty of humans and the world never ceases to amaze me.

On a cold and wet December day in the dim morning light at 4AM, my good buddy Earl Martin and I excitedly were give a lift to Seatac by my neighbor and good friend Dave Zulinke (You may know Dave-he is an excellent mountain man, climber, skier and mortgage broker-helping many of my clients with mortgage loans). We had gathered our packs, loaded the car and were on our way.

28 hours later and halfway on the other side of the world, after brief stops in New York and Paris, our Air France jumbo jet dropped through the cloud cover and onto the tarmac of Antananarivo (Tana), the capitol of Madagascar, a city of 4 million. Our hearts were thumping as we walked off the plane into humidity and a whole new landscape than any we had ever known. For those who don't know, Madagascar is the fourth biggest island in the world, 300 miles top to bottom and 150 miles across. It is known for lemurs, baobabs, unique culture and some of the worst roads on earth.

Remember the story of Sri Lanka? My Slovenian friend Filip Kovacic I met last year had arranged to meet us in Tana as part of a trip around the world, he had just flown in from Cape Town, South Africa. He was at the airport when we touched down, amazing! We grabbed our bags, slapped each other on the back the way only guys can do, had a cold beer that tasted so good and hopped in a taxi toward the vibrant capitol city. Even at the late hour of 10Pm on a weekday, colorful music spilled into the streets. The people smiled so big. We headed for our room at a place called the Sakamanga and slept soundly.

We got up the next morning excitedly greeted by street noise, music and the endless markets and food stalls of Tana coming to life. Let the journey begin! We hopped a taxi to the domestic airport, then a prop plane to the rain forest Northeast of Madagascar, skimming over the trees and landing in the pleasant town of Antalaha. Instantly, when we got off the plane, we could smell vanilla everywhere. I mean the whole town smelled like it. It was one of the most amazing sensory experiences of my life. We quickly learned that this was the center of the Madagascar vanilla production area, responsible for a full 50% of the world's vanilla-straddling the jungle and Indian Ocean beaches.

No plans, just an idea which direction we were going! On the plane, I had spoken a little of my limited French with a local businessman. When we landed, he helped us meet a man with an old car to give us a ride. When I say old, I mean old! Thus begins the first of our many Madagascar auto adventures. My buddies and I would later joke (basically true) that every car we rode in on our trip broke down at least once. Madagascar was a colony of France for many years, consequently my limited French was of great use to us. All of the cars were old Renaults, Peugeots and Citroens with windows that hardly opened. We jammed our big bodies in and hit the road driving north. After an hour of so, BAM, our first flat tire. We all jumped out, the jack wasn't working so with our excited adrenaline riddled bodies lifted the back corner of the car so the driver could change the tire, FUN!

We drove on, leaving the beach at Sambava and headed east into the mist shrouded mountains. After a few more hours and many times weaving to avoid zebu, the cows of Madagascar, we rolled into the little town of Andapa, considerably off the beaten track. We threw down our packs, had a bite to eat and looked around. This town of maybe 10,000 people has very few Western visitors each year, maybe 50 or so passing through on their way to trekking at Marojejy Park nearby. As we strolled the street and through the vibrant local market, children looked at us with huge smiles and wide open excited eyes, often saying "bonjour vadza", hello foreigner.

The next couple days we decompressed after our long journey to the other side of the world. It is so nice when traveling to set up a base in an authentic place and just get to know it. When we were there, with the exception of two Peace Corps members, we were the only Westerners in town. The few days passed beautifully. We went to a vibrant, raucous festival at a local church, met a local policeman and shared meals with his family and generally got to know this place. Some images I can see clearly in my mind still are the mist over gorgeous peaks in the morning, forty people huddled around one TV in a little store, kids walking carrying live chickens for market and the BIG Madagascar smiles and hospitality. Culturally (by the way their belief system in general combines Catholicism and native indigenous ways) the Malagasy people believe that welcoming others is essential. They do it because they are just genuinely nice, but also because they think it will bring good fortune.

The next day, with the crack of dawn, my buddies and I ran down the dusty road with our heavy packs, jumped into an old bus bursting at the seams with local Malagasy people and headed down the road to the rain forest jungle of Marojejy Park (please google it, the pics are amazing). After many bumps and twisty mountain roads, we were dropped off seemingly in the middle of nowhere, with a pretty little ranger station next to the road. We strolled over, talked with the lady who ran the place in French and a little English she knew. The jagged peak of the Marojejy massif rose above us, we wanted to go to the jungle. Amazing, in a matter of an hour we found a local guide and headed into the hills.

We passed first through a little village with thatched huts, our guide stopped to buy rice, explaining to us that the Malagasy people cannot physically function without large quantities of rice. It is true. By the way, it is theorized that many of the inhabitants of this country came in boats from Indonesia long ago, some from Africa and some from Middle Eastern countries. The people are an exotic, beautiful mix of these places. The Indonesian origins certainly may explain the fact that the country is blanketed with gorgeous rice fields and that rice is central to their culture and very survival. So, we were off to the beautiful mountains.

It was hot, oh so hot and humid. To be taken from a cold Pacific Northwest winter and plopped down in a tropical rain forest is a shock to the system. It is amazing, though, the things one can do when excitement and wonder are everywhere. The hike this day was a solid five hours with impressive elevation gain. We saw bizarre looking chameleons, our first lemurs and incredible foliage. We hiked on little dirt paths above amazing rivers and rice fields. The mountains loomed above. After an intense trek, we stumbled into our camp for the first night, a little shelter with a couple of tables and refreshing cold water coming out of a hose to wash with. Down the hill from the camp was a pretty little river with lush jungle around it. The noises of the forest were all around. Oh, I didn't mention that there are no poisonous snakes in Madagascar, very nice! We ate some rice, energy bars from Trader Joe's and collapsed into sleep until the morning. What an excellent day, I felt so alive!

The next few days we trekked through the intense, beautiful tropical rain forest of Marojejy National Park. We saw many chameleons, a funky animal called a tenrec, lemurs, snakes, the most pretty and bizarre colorful bugs you could imagine. The most stunning of all was hiking through dense brush and being surrounded in the trees only 10 feet away with a family of silky sifakas, a totally white lemur and one of the rarest primates on earth (they live only in this part of Madagascar-probably 100 in the world). It was a once-in-a-lifetime moment. The waterfalls were stunning and scenery beautiful. One evening while we were eating our rice under a shelter during a monsoon rain, we met the head of the whole park system in this region. He was a very nice and intelligent man, very curious about what we thought of his park and how we discovered it. They are developing thoughtful eco-tourism, only 300 people a year come now, maybe 5 from the US each year. My buddy Filip was thrilled to learn that he was the first Slovenian ever in the park.

After a few days in this Jurassic Park like setting, we turned back. It was raining VERY heavily the day we left, we had to run quickly down the trail before the rivers got so swollen they would be impassable. We made it, collapsed in a heap at the bottom ranger station. After an hour of drying out and organizing, we hitched a ride in a little Renault car with a guy headed back to the coast. I never thought sardines, crackers and Cokes would taste so good! We drove past Sambava and settled back into Antalaha for a few days of authentic culture and resting our tired bones.

Antalaha turned out to be an excellent place to hang out for a few days. Once again the only Westerners were some peace corps workers, the town was relaxed with pretty beaches and a bustling port. We ate lots of good cheap seafood, toured some family run vanilla operations, enjoyed the very colorful, loud markets and spent lots of time learning and dancing to Malagasy music.

Then, it was time to go. After a long day of travel, we got to the amazing Ile Ste Marie, an island off the East coast of Madagascar with crystal blue water and famous for once having been a haven for famous pirates. While here, we saw a famous Malagasy musician named Wawa perform, met and learned about the work of local doctors, somehow found a creepy old pirate graveyard, snorkled in the stunning water with moray eels, bright red coral and schools of fish. One day, I walked to the end of a dirt road, got a young boy in an old dugout canoe with just a long pole for power, to take me over to a little island called Nosy Nato, or Ile aux Nauttes. I found an amazing little beach hut for $5 a night. The water lapped gently outside, the hammock called each day, the sun burned red until it slipped below the horizon and the million stars were brilliant each night.

The ride back to the mainland was a harrowing three hour trip on an old clunky boat loaded with people, fruits and a smelly gas engine. We sat huddled near the engine, sometimes on the front deck. The waves got quite large, splashed us again and again. The locals looked at us and giggled, clearly to them this was common and no big deal. We reached shore at the vibrant little port of Soanierana-Ivongo, my limited French really helping us in a remote, non-touristy part of the country. We dragged our packs off the boat, hopped on a little truck with 10 other people and were off on the open road toward Tamatave, also called Toamasina.

The truck was packed with people, sweaty and blaring music. We rolled down the road, the native people inside flashing us big smiles and laughing at how our big Western bodies had to scrunch to get in the van. After and hour or so, BANG, we blew a radiator hose and pulled over. Everyone piled out of the van quickly, breakdowns happen a lot in Madagascar. We were way out in the country, in the middle of farms. After a while of sitting, we put out our thumbs and hitched a ride with a couple guys driving by. I love doing that and the people you can meet. See, the lemons of a breakdown turned into lemonade.

After another couple of hours, we rolled into Tamatave, the second biggest city in Madagascar, maybe 200,000 people. This seaside port was a vibrant place, markets were packed and interesting. This city was pulsing with activity, little human-powered and pulled pousse-pousee carts everywhere. The pullers would constantly accost us when we tried to walk, they almost consider it an insult for someone to walk instead of ride in a cart. At first, it seems abusive to ride in one because they work really hard pulling it. Then you realize they are incredibly strong and want to do it. To feel the breeze coming off the Indian Ocean in the evening was magnificent. We splurged for an air-conditioned room, watched soccer on TV and had cold beers after a long day of travel. That night on a veranda in humid seaside air, we had fine french food, cappucinos and vanilla ice cream bars. We slept well!!

The next morning we caught a ride over to Port Fluvial for a day on the fascinating Canale de Pangalanes, created by the French colonials in the late 1800s to aid commerce in Eastern Madagascar. The actual Canale was a great creation, beginning in Tamatave, connecting a series of natural lakes and bodies of water and ultimately going nearly 200 miles south. We explored it in a small boat, about the first 20 miles or so. We left the bustling post early, cruised across the soft water, meleluca trees lining the banks and fragrant flowers in the air. The canal quickly filled up with little dugout canoes, people paddling different places, men toting huge loads of wood and food, kids singing at the top of their lungs. As always, we got HUGE smiles from the people along the way. The guy we were with took us to a little village, we hung out with the locals, had tasty food, helped process some sugarcane and sampled the local moonshine, pure fermented sugarcane..basically a raw form of rum. What a nice day, relaxed on the river, great cultural experiences, feeling again like we were in the middle of nowhere.

Our guide for this day (named Goos-goos) turned out to know a tremendous amount about the local flora and fauna. He was quite interested, as are many we meet, how we got to his little corner of the world. We found out at the end of the day that he was an excellent musician too. He took us to a little local restaurant, watering hole overlooking the ocean. The food was very good, Goos-goos stepped in, played drums and sang with the band. It was an excellent night of seafood, spirits and laughter

We got on the road early the next morning, excited to head back to the capitol for the next leg of our adventure. Our little minibus pulled out of the crowded market town early at 7 AM, laden with people, chickens and blaring loud music. By the way, Malagasy people dress really well, no matter how humble their life. They also love to wear stylish hats, tilted on a cool angle.

So, the 8 hour journey was tiring and great. We drove past many little towns, stopped in some for food. Every time our bus pulled to a stop, little children and women rushed to us to sell us things, often quite delicious. As we climbed in elevation, the tropical temperature became a bit more bearable and the vegetation lush. After many long sweaty hours, we pulled into the outskirts of Tana, right back where we started the journey. So much had happened on this trip so far, great to take a moment to reflect. Traffic was crazy and fun, cars weaving in all directions without much order. After an hour and a half, we winded up cobblestone streets to our little room in the hilly part of the city. We dropped our bags and immediately went out for, YUM, pizza and ice cream.

We stayed in Tana for a day and night. The climate was cooler and comfortable. More at ease with our surroundings, we ventured into giant street carnivals, a locals only music cabaret for some very traditional dancing and tunes and enjoyed great food and the energy of this bustling town. There was more evidence of foreigners, excited talk about the progress of the government of the current president Marc Ravolamanana and quite a few NGO workers from international aid organizations. Madagascar is one of the poorest countries in the world but is moving forward with many micro finance projects around the country. We had quite excellent french food that night and woke early for the next part of our journey

The next day brought a brutal 15 hour bus ride to the far west of Madagascar. We were off to an area near Morondava, quite arid, famous for the most beautiful baobab tree in the world and set right on the Mozambique channel facing toward mainland Africa. After many many painful, dirty hours, we rolled into the little dust town. The people seemed happy, living simple lives in harmony with the sea. Fishing, of course, was the main economy of this area. We got settled in some little huts next to the ocean and watched the sun set like a fireball into the water, stunning.

We were in this region for about a week, the time was filled with amazing experiences. Our first day, we went to see the famous "Avenue of baobabs" (google search it if you want). The trees I had wanted to see all my life were amazing, hundred feet tall and majestic. These trees are quite sacred to the Malagasy people.

We took little boats to the native island village of Betania, stumbled into a Christmas celebration and were welcomed as honored guests in a little village. We found out that the little kids in the village had their soccer ball pop three months earlier, we bought them a little ball and played with them for hours. We went to Kirindy Forest, saw giant boas, little lemurs and GREAT tropical foliage. We shopped in little markets, went to a wedding, met lots of peace corps people and had one after another authentic experiences. Then, a week later, it was time to leave.

As is typical in Madagascar, airline travel is bizarre. We got to the airport two hours early. With a panicked look, they said "your plane is leaving in two minutes". They rushed us through the airport with NO security or baggage check, sprinted us to the plane and we were off in the air back to Tana, WOW!

We landed and spent three more excellent day in the capitol, really staring to penetrate deeper in experiences. We hear awesome cabaret music and dances for hours each night. The markets, crafts, and local palaces and museums were wonderful. The part of Tana where one second you feel in Africa and then the next are sipping on a capuccino is bizarre and wonderful. And then, it was time to go. We waved goodbye, caught a bus to the airport and said goodbye. Thanks Madagascar for an amazing time!

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