Regional Vac Meeting is when the Peace Corps Volunteers of the same region come together to discuss any issue that they want brought up to the Peace Corps higher ups. Usually the group will agree to meet at a location that rocks, like a beach town or a killer national park. Well, we chose the city of Manakara, about a 6 hour bus ride east from our region’s biggest city, Fianarantsoa.

The video below is of our train ride back to Fianarantsoa from Manakara.

The first night we went to an open-air restaurant called Sharon’s. The food and ambiance was fabulous, like the city. They also had a little liquor store on the property so instead of beer I purchased a box of wine to go with my meal. Upon leaving a couple of young deaf boys who were hanging out at the entrance wanted to accompany us to the hotel. Probably looking for a handout. I wanted no part of them so I walked ahead. Francis, a fellow Volunteer walked with them and at times they had their arms over his shoulder. When we arrived at our hotel parking lot, Francis said, “Hey guys, wait. Let me check something.” He put his backpack down and has his hand in it. “My wallet is gone. They took the wallet.” I said,”Let’s go back to the restaurant.” I thought our chances were slim but we had to try. I took off running and ran into a rope crossing the entrance to a gas station. I played nonchalant. “I’m going to take a bicycle-taxi. I hopped in one and was off when I heard, “There they are!” I saw the kids on the sidewalk so I jumped off the taxi and me, Francis, and Aaron another Peace Corps Volunteer all were chasing them. These little buggers were scampering quick. They took a 90 degree turn left down a pitch black alleyway. We following and submerge in the murky light. I immediately turn on my iPhone flashlight. I see the back patios of 3 dwellings. I think they in one of them so without thinking I trespass into one. What the hell, this mission is important. I hear, “There he is!” I turn around and illuminate a scared kid. I grab him by the collar and hold him hard. He whips out a wad of cash. Francis takes it. “Where’s the wallet?” he says. The kid says it’s back in the street. Show us. Someone has the other kid. I don’t let go. By this time I’m no longer mad, kinda elated. But I act angry to keep the little guy on his toes. Malagasy people are approaching. Mmm? Not sure what’s going to happen. They ask what’s going on. We tell them everything with efficient detail. They support us and we all walk down the street towards an intersection. I have my light still on and I point in straight down on the kid’s head while I say loudly, “He is a thief!” Public shaming will be their sole punishment tonight. We find the wallet and a crowd surrounds us. Again we explain and all of us adults tell the scold the kids. Someone, I thing Francis says to the kids, “You should pray,” and that gets a good laugh. We go back to the hotel and decide it would be a good time for a beer or two. I order wine.

The next day we spent frolicking on the beach. Then we took the train out of town back to Fianarantsoa.