long overdue adventures from Madagascar

I wrote this about a week ago, but I'll try to update it with camping pictures in the next couple days.

"All right, I admit it, I wrote most of this blog as a letter to my grandparents, which is why it’s a bit corny (or maybe that's just my sense of humor). I tried throwing in some random swear words, but you can’t put “fucking” and “baby lemur” in the same sentence, so I just gave up.

I thought I better say a quick hello before you start to think that a crocodile ate me. Don’t worry, I have only seen a handful of crocodiles and they’ve all been safely locked in a metal cage.

Madagascar is incredible. I have way too many stories from the past two months to put them all in one post, but we had some particularly great adventures about a month ago.

At the beginning of October we drove to a protected area of spiny forest to study the local lemur population. The spiny forest is pretty much what it sounds like, if you take out the word “forest”. It’s actually a steaming hot desert full of every imaginable type of spiky tree, bush and grass, all of which seem to have evolved to reach out and stab visiting Americans. We started by hiking 10 kilometers through cacti and prickly shrubs to our base-camp. Then on the second day we ran out of water and had to start drinking from a tiny little puddle, which we shared with the zebu (local cattle). Sadly, zebu haven’t yet learned of the hygiene risk of pooping in the water you drink from, so the water tasted pretty awful (we did boil and treat it, and miraculously nobody got too sick). Then my buddy, Jeff, got stung by a scorpion. We weren’t too worried because there aren’t any deadly scorpions in the area. But the guide, who claimed to be a local medicine man, roasted the tail of the scorpion on the fire and insisted that we squirt the remaining venom on Jeff’s back. Our leader told him he could use all the local medicinal plants he could think of, but venom squirting is against SIT policy. Jeff recovered by the next day. Oh yeah, we saw a few really cute lemurs too.

The week after that we drove eight hours to the southern tip of the island. There we were split into groups of two and sent off to spend the week in separate local villages learning about their lives and conducting interviews. The village I was assigned to had three houses, the biggest of which measured 2 meters by 3 meters. It fit our host parents and their four children. My partner (Laura) and I had our own tents, which we set up on the sand dune, overlooking the Indian Ocean. I have never been anywhere so incredibly beautiful in my life. The sun rose over their house and lit up the empty beach for miles (This is the schmaltzy part I wrote for my grandparents…feel free to skip two sentences ahead). When it set we could stare up at the milky way and fantasize about milk and other dairy products…oh it’s been so long. I think I actually started fantasizing about udders at one point (sorry Cecilia). The family treated us as their own children from the first moment that our supervisor drove off. We went fishing, cut down wood for the fire, helped cook, and played with the little kids (1, 3, 5, and 8). I had brought along two kites as gifts and everybody loved them. The kids tied the kites to their carved toy boats and let the kites pull the boats across the water. We caught and ate lobster and fish every day. We learned the local dances and figured out how to identify the most important medicinal plants (one of which the father explained- with a perfectly straight face- could cure 150 diseases, including diabetes, typhoid, malaria, scabies, and stomach ulcers).It was a simple, physically demanding lifestyle, but so satisfying. Everything you need exists within a couple of kilometres. They never seemed too worried about the price of oil or the war in Iraq or the tanking world economy or racism or China or Russia. They insisted that I have to come back at some point. I hope it’s an invitation I get to take advantage of.

We then finished up our homestays and spent a week in Tulear on the west coast doing marine studies. The city wasn’t quite as nice as Fort Dauphin, where we spent our first five weeks, but we still had a blast. We got to go snorkelling and learn about sea-cucumber farming. I thought about bringing back some dried cucumbers for everybody to try, until they told us what they are used for. Let’s just say our taste-test might have turned into a huge orgy and we would have been helpless against the powers of the dried slug (I can’t think of a less appealing aphrodisiac).

Next, we spent a week touring the national parks. First was Isalo, which had awesome natural pools and gorgeous landscapes. Isalo was followed by Ranomafana (rano means water, mafana means hot), which is a rainforest with natural hot-springs and lots of lemurs. Last but not least was Andringatra, which has the highest accessible peak in Madagascar at ~8,000 feet, named Peak Boby. We climbed it and almost died at the top from exhaustion. Then we could have said we died climbing Boby. By the in Malagasy, all “o”s are pronounced “oo” like in “scooby dooby doo” (I apologize for the 6th grade boy humor).

After our National Parks tour we went to the capital (Antananarivo) for about a week to plan our independent projects. Oh how wonderful to eat something other than white rice. I had my first cheese in over 2 months. And my first ice cream. I can’t wait for Death by Chocolate, even if it is the middle of December.

Later today I’m off to Andohahela National Park with my kiddies for a 4 day camping trip. Wish me luck. Unless you’ve used it all up on Obama. That’d be ok too.

I can’t wait to see everybody in December,
Love,

Eric

P.S. If anyone wants a secret order of dried sea cucumber, just send me a facebook message."