Went back to my site for a couple of days. Still don’t know if I’ll be kicked out of the Peace Corps or not. But I took vacation in the meantime. I had already requested the leave. First stop: Mahambo on the central East Coast. My friends were already there having a grand ol’ beach time. I arrived after walking kilometers with a heavy backpack down a dirt road. I was tired and relieved. The hotel was on the beach. It was like the garden of Eden. Macee, Tracey, and Juan were in the open air restaurant having coffee and working on their computers. They told me that the others were playing beach volleyball and Kamaka and Daniel were out surfing somewhere. I approached the volleyballers and decline the invitation to play. Instead I went swimming. Next day at the break of rooster crow we traveled all day to get to the island of Sainte Marie, which included Bus, long canoe, rickity 4×4, boat, bus, tuk-tuk, and a long walk to our hotel. Butt hurts. Tired but happy.

Well, since this trip may be my last fandango, I’ve realized that my principle motive for staying in the Corps is for my students. I teach over 300 high schoolers. I ask, who will teach them if I leave? Plus, I have an English Club, two, if you count the English Club for adults that I help with in Fianarantsoa.

On St. Marie we visited the famous Pirate Cemetery near our hotel. It’s the most picturesque almost-forgotten Pirate cemetery I’ve ever seen. I saw one in Panama, too. Straight out of the movies. Who were these pirates? Criminals, rapist, serial killers; and now we think they’re wonderful. Who doesn’t think Captain J. Sparrow is sweet? Buy me a ticket on a time machine to the age of exploration in the Caribbean.

Right now I’m in a hotel up on a hill. It’s like we’re in a tree house. We can see a small island with bridges to the left and right connecting it to the the bigger island that we’re on. And beyond this we see mountains of mainland Madagascar.

During our week here we’re constantly walking along dirt trails and coral trails in the jungle. Tunnels consisting of jungle crowds over the trails. It’s warm and humid.

I was walking back from town to our hotel. I had to go #2 suddenly so I just took a shit on the side of the road. Well, down a little near the rocks of breaking waves away from prying eyes. I was nervous the whole time someone was going to see. It was hard to enjoy the shit. The waves were lapping near my feet. Small crabs were scurrying on the rocks that I balanced myself on. It looked like the mangroves area of Miami. I felt like I felt when I would go down by the water’s edge on the Biscayne Bay and drink a four pack of tall boys. So, after the call of the wild was answered, I walked over the next bridge and had a smoke at the edge of the bay water. Everything was chill. I was done with my spliff when surprisingly a National Policeman pulls up behind me on a scooter. He was still in uniform but off of work. I’ve been hassled in many countries by the police and military while smoking herb so I was ready for an approach. I put out my cigarette and started packing up to leave. He was busy texting on his phone. I walked away listening to the audio book of the Biography of Steve Jobs. He was an asshole, but very competent so he’s forgiven.

The next day we went to an island, Ile Aux Nattes, just south of the main island. Fabulous. The island has no cars, just foot paths.  So we walked to the southern tip through jungle and huts. On the south side was a primitive resort with a restaurant and bar.

Man, as our days meandered on the Island of Saint Marie, we caught wind that a cyclone was on it’s way to Madagascar and specifically towards us. No big deal because our planned departure was before the predicted arrival.

The morning came to board the boat and we’re told that all boats were cancelled. I was happy to spend another day on the island. Then to my consternation someone in my group or you could say, on my team, finds out there’s another boat running and there are seats available. First Red Flag. I’m getting a bad feeling about this but I went along with the group ‘cause I don’t want to break up the Team. We had to move quickly to catch the boat. But I’m thinking, “If we miss it we just have to stay on the island”, which will be fun. Well, we all take tuk-tuks to the north of the island to await the boat to take us to the mainland. We gather under a big roof with no walls, like a big bus stop. There were lots of french tourist families. And curiously, there was an odd malagasy man staring and snorting at people. He was annoying and I was like, “What the fuck is up!” Then I realized he’s off his fuckin’ rocker and is just looking for attention. He bothered other tourists but they began to ignore him, too. Later a saw a town drunk cross his path. They got into a verbal argument and the drunk spit in his face a few times. A bystander separated them and that was the conclusion of our free entertainment. An hour later we boarded the boat and after the boat ride were deposited on a remote beach to wait for a 4×4 to take us about 13 miles to the port from which we’d take a motorized canoe to the nearest town with a bus station and our ticket to civilization. After 5 hours the vehicle never came and we suspected, rightly, that no one was coming for us and we had to get a move on before darkness fell.  That night in a small village we slept, 19 volunteers, in the back of a mini-market. The roof leaked and water dripped on me, but I was loving the whole experience. But I woke up in the middle of the night soaking wet from the leaky roof. Oh, and there were little crabs running around the floorboards. The following morning at 4:30am we started walking the 13 miles with all our stuff.

The water was waist deep sometimes and most of the hike it was raining on and off. We arrived just in time to catch the canoes shoving off. Everything looked fine though. Midway through the trip the boat stopped and the guys taking us wanted 10,000 Ariary for each person. This was bullshit, highway robbery, because all the transportation from the island was supposed to be included in the price that we paid. We protested and raised a stink. Another passenger got annoyed with us and said, “Just pay it! It’s only 3 Euros.” Well, since we live in Madagascar we don’t make Euros, buddy! We make Ariary, Malagasy currency.  After a lot of bickering we paid up and told them that they’re thieves and scoundrels and that when we get to the town we’re going to straighten them out when we talk to the boat company, the police, or both.  When we get to our destination we were just happy to be back in civilization that we forget the matter and hauled ass to the city, Tamatave, where we stayed at a hotel until the cyclone passed by. The hotel was paid for by the Peace Corps so this is like an extended vacation.  A lot of the volunteers were already there.

 

On our 2nd day in Toamasina the Cyclone arrived. Our hotel was a strong building so we were safe. Outside the storm was blowing everything not bolted down all around the town. Trees snapped. Shanty towns got their roofs blown off. Then it went quiet and people murmured that it was the eye. I thought no, it’s not really calm, like in the movies. Then it began again. The 2nd coming was stronger. It could make you believe in God, or that God is pissed at your town. What a vacation!