The whole night rain pours down and the tent hardly remains dry. As soon as it's light, some dogs decide to bark non-stop and the cocks are keeping us from our sleep too. Despite that i manage to to catch some hours of sleep, but we don;t feel like covering 20 kilometers on foot today. We hope that a Taxi Brousse will come along, but none passes. Our guide manages to convince a boy on a dirt bike to take us further on, one by one.

We end up with a friendly Malagasy man named Olivier who offers his living room to us. The walls are decorated with David Beckham and Titanic posters. We are invited at the table where we eat spaghetti together with his wife and an elder man, consumed with loud slurping.

The porters are still on their way here with the luggage, and our guide too has to cover the whole part on foot. From here, we hope to get some form of motorized transport to get us some kilometers closer to Mananara.

That afternoon we visit the bach. The elder man shows us the way and takes place next to us in the shade of a palm tree and shows no intentions to leave. Only when we start to read a book and even begin to take a nap he decides to go. The beach is gorgeous, with rainforests hugging the white sand and large boulders shattered in the water.

On one hand this is paradise; you just need to stick out your hand to the trees full of lychees, the pineapples or mangos, there's an ocean full of fresh fish. On the other hand it's hell where one has has to walk 4 days to the closest "city", where one is devoid of medical care and electricity, where one must fear violent cyclones 3 months per year, where roads are often impassable and bridges often collapse.

That night, a chicken is beheaded for dinner. We don't sleep in the tent but in a room, prepared for us by olivier, the top floor of his wooden house. The porters sleep on the lower floor, are sleeping at 8 and at 9 i hit my bed too.

previous

next