Teaching is wonderful, but the honeymoon is over and the kids are acting like kids. A few are acting like I did when I was their age. One covertly walked out of the classroom when my back was turned. Apparently he wanted to talk to some friends outside. Later he calmly returned like nothing happened. Really? When I taught in China this would have drove my blood pressure through the roof. I’m over that now. Now, I sternly but with a smile on my face, tell him or her to gather their things and leave, “You are done for the day.” Karma, thank you.

About a half hour east of my town the terrain starts to slope sharply down and the jungle begins. That’s where Rano Mafana National Park is. It’s been my little get away spot. There’s a campground so I bring my tent and I can be one with nature without being covered by bugs. Adjacent to this is a river. I came with my micro lens to get some photos of insects or the eyeballs of geckos.

On a hill is a little open air restaurant with a great view of the jungle valley. I go there for my meals, a few drinks and to play their guitar. One night, spiking my curiosity, I noticed a large table of Americans. What brings them all the way to Madagascar? I had a table close by and typed this blog, but I couldn’t help overhearing them. They were talking about the election results and other stuff that revealed that they weren’t Peace Corps Volunteers. A little later as I was coming back from the bathroom I introduced myself. They were here for a few months studying the biodiversity of the National Park. This area is thick and diverse with animals including multiple species of Lemurs, some endangered, so they came to the right place. We had a great time talking for hours into the night. Bugs were flying around, the light was low and we could hear the water flowing from the river. All of the sudden, we saw a big spider the size of a tarantula sauntering across the floor. I had never seen this species and it was big and damn scary. Later, after we had kinda forgot about it, it surprised us crawling on the ceiling above. Someone grabbed a camera because it was Facebook worthy.

 

The next day I took a taxi-brusse back home. It was hell. I was stuffed in there like a wet pretzel.

After this little excursion we had a week off from school. I tried to get to know my town a little more. I don’t feel like I’ve been integrating enough. I have my excuses, though. Everything is new and I’m still just trying to get a grip on all the change.

I went to Rano Mafana again the following weekend. Why? It was the celebration of the 25th anniversary of the National Park. I camped at the same spot. I met up with the family that owns the restaurant. They take tourists on kayaks down the river. The family gave me a ride into town which is downhill about 8 km. Once in town I helped them set up their booth. They were selling beer and chips and t-shirts advertising their company, Varibolo. They had shown me drone footage of their kayaks going down the river. I offered to edit the footage into a sweet little video that they can put on their website. Later, me and two brothers of the family, and an American named Trey swaggered into the town center. There were people everywhere and it was buzzin. We met some foreigners that work at an NGO nearby. We bar-hopped that small town through the night. One time I separated from the group and wondered into an establishment and I was immediately absorbed into a congo line. After that, I met up with my new friends at a club and we danced in a huge circle. Man, it had been forever since I’d done anything like that. I left before everyone else. It’s was too far to walk in the dark, that late, and up hill, I waited for a car to pass and asked for a lift.

I awoke the next morning in my tent to glowing yellow light. My tent is yellow. I had breakfast, did some stuff then took a taxi-brusse into town. I was just wandering around town, when some strangers invited me to have a few drinks with them at an outside bar. I had seen this bar the night before and its enchanting ambience struck me. We talked and drank for what seemed like forever. One of them said he had a surprise for me and went back to his house to get it. He brought it back and put it in my outstretched hands. It was a turtle. I didn’t want a turtle, but what the hell?  Another one them invited me over for dinner and I didn’t really want to go but I was hungry and out of money. The next morning I left to go back to Alakamisy, but instead, decided to go all the way to Fianarantsoa ‘cause there’s an ATM there.

During the two hour trip I would check on the turtle who was in my backpack. In Fianarantsoa I went to the Peace Corps Meva, which is the Peace Corps lodging for volunteers passing through. Two people work there, Michael and Nirina. Michael, from San Diego, had already did his two year service in Madagascar and had extended a third year to run this Meva. Nirina is Malagasy who speaks English superbly. Perhaps he’s been working for the Peace Corps for awhile. I pulled out the turtle and asked Nirina if he knew anything about turtles. He said that awhile back a former Volunteer put two turtles in the garden out back. I thought, “Cool, I have a place to keep the turtle. And it’ll have a turtle companion.” Also, I discovered that my new pet turtle took a dump in my backpack.