Hit the road

 

Everything else will be by air since I’ve crossed my last (known) road trip. I went with a small group to Ampefy a couple weeks ago, which is a fun area about three hours away. We stayed at this lodge that had little cabins with a wonderful view of the sunrise over a lake.

For hiking, we did a couple different trails, one of which had three volcanic crater lakes. Another was to Lily waterfall, and we also hit a little geyser, which was beautiful.

The food was fantastic! The other place I’d gone to with a group had highly touted food that was just as highly disappointing, but this place had great stuff. I had some kind of baked fish – out of the lake – the first afternoon. It was amazing, but I was so stuffed from the late lunch that I couldn’t handle dinner. I opted for a “dessert” fruit plate, which had a medley of tasty stuff including strawberries, which are a rarity here.

But my highlight was my first shot at parasailing! I had no idea it was available and when we learned it was an option most of us signed up to do it the first morning. At the crack of 8 a.m., a cigarette smoking guy from Reunion came and took us up one by one. When someone asked who’d go first, my hand shot up – no trepidation at all. I guess once you jump out of a plane, as I did in Australia, it’s all downhill.

Oh, the views were lovely! The takeoff was a bit weird because the flight price included a video. I could have done without that, but it was non-negotiable. The Reunion guy mostly held the GoPro, but I had to hold on to it during takeoff, when the boat would speed off and we’d launch into the air. As I’ve never used a GoPro before and don’t really do selfies anyway, I had no idea how to hold the thing. You run as you launch—not far, but it was like taking fast steps with some guy strapped to your back while you’re holding a small flagpole in front of you like Florida State scored a touchdown and you’re spelling S-E-M-I-N-O-L-E-S in flags.

Once up, and once I figured out what to do with my hands, it was smooth sailing. The flight itself wasn’t more than 10 minutes but it felt like a peaceful eternity. We went over the lake a and then they cut us loose to sail up the mountain and back down. It’s beautiful from above.

We went one at a time and those who weren’t flying were enjoying a cup of cocoa and some croissants on the shore of the lake. Quite a lovely start to the day.

My first Foreign Service wedding

Last weekend I went to my first Foreign Service wedding. I’ve been in over a decade, so I was due. A guy I work with married one of our local staffers, a mechanical engineer. In the position he’s in, he sometimes has to cover for our boss, who indirectly supervises the engineer position. Because of this, I, being HR, have to do some paperwork to make sure in those cases, we’d have someone else indirectly supervise the wife. (Hey, it’s the federal government – we create paperwork.) One of the questions in the paperwork is to make sure the American employee didn’t have any influence on the hiring of the spouse, because the paperwork is mostly done well before the spouse has a job. In this case, I was able to affirm that the American employee had no influence on his spouse’s job, because she’d been there 15 years before he ever arrived.

Not knowing what to expect from the wedding, I carpooled and arrived maybe 20 minutes early. It was at 11 a.m. and I fully expected to be home around 3 p.m. Nope, not even close. Although the wedding was (or at least seemed) more American than Malagasy, it took forever and the reception was a huge party that went on and on. I made it til 5 p.m., and, sadly, the cake came after that. I really wanted some, but the reception was exhausting – as fun as it was.

First, though, the ceremony: it took over two hours. It was a joint English-Malagasy, with hymns and scripture readings in both languages. The sermon, in Malagasy, turned out to be a full-blown one and the animated pastor spoke for 30 minutes or longer. The Americans in the audience were so relieved once it was done because it seemed downhill after that, but the next pastor got up and said, “And now we must translate the sermon to English.” Oh, man.

The groom is a person who works in my section, and his parents, brother and sister-in-law came. In Madagascar, they do three different ceremonies for marriages and I think the family was pretty worn out. I knew he had at least one brother but didn’t know at first how many family members had come. (They’re from Texas.)

The ceremony seemed pretty American, with the marriage procession coming down the aisles just as I’d expect. The brother and his wife (I wasn’t sure at first if it was his wife or sister) came down, and then the bride’s side and then the groom’s mom came down, accompanied by a man I assumed was a brother. I remember thinking, “I wonder how many brothers there are and wow, they sure do resemble each other.” And at that point I started wondering where the groom was. The church was a small one with three sections, so there wasn’t a center aisle. I couldn’t figure out where the groom would stand, but once the ceremony got started, I forgot about looking for him and was just observing it and enjoying the hymns.

After those were done, the main minister came up and read a scripture, first in Malagasy and then in English. Then the second “brother” came up and read another, also first in Malagasy. And I thought, “Wow, his brother really must have rehearsed that – he’s doing great.” And then he switched to English and I realized it was the groom! I’ve worked with him six months and did not recognize him at all. The guy I work with had moppy hair, glasses and about a two-week shadow. This guy had close-cropped hair, was clean shaven and didn’t have glasses. I truly did not recognize him, and I wasn’t the only one. (And later, I sent a picture to someone who’s left post and she texted back said “THAT IS NOT HIM!”)

The wedding itself wound up after 1 p.m. or so, and the couple I’d carpooled with and I agreed we’d hang around the reception for an hour or so before bailing, but when we arrived at the venue (it was down the road and everyone caravaned) it became obvious there’d be no way to duck out. There was a huge outdoor area, complete with a photo booth, with drinks and snacks. And I truly thought that was it until I went into the building to find the bathroom and I discovered a huge room set up for a sit-down dinner.

It really was a lot of fun, but exhausting. The reception was in stages, with something happening, then some food, then more stuff, then more food. There was a lot of dancing and a lot of good fun. The couple had choreographed their first dance and, instead of a father-daughter dance there was a mother-son one, which they’d also choreographed. That one about brought me to tears because the groom was so close to crying. At one point, they were dancing close to our table, giving us a good look at his face. A friend at the table next to me grabbed me out of emotion and I looked at her, saying the groom was making me cry. She felt the same way.

Kudzu: more than an invasive vine – an invasive canine

Before

Life changed a couple months ago when I adopted/abducted a street dog. She’s Kudzu, so named because I like K names and I’m Southern. And it fits. This little critter has completely taken over my life.

Backing up, I like to walk, and on the main(ish) street outside my former neighborhood (about a mile from mu current neighborhood), there’s a shop of little food stall-like places, plus a restaurant or so. Behind those, there are little neighborhoods. Neighborhoods not like mine; more local. Which is to say, very poor, but with friendly people.

And there are street dogs. They are everywhere, with the exception of my gated neighborhood and the connecting two, which is where all my colleagues live. Daily, I walk at least some, even nif it’s only to catch the shuttle to work.

When I saw this skinny beagle-y dog with a sweet face and kind eyes, I brought her food. First I did it once, then once in a while and then every day. It got to where she knew me, and when she’d see me, I’d signal her and we’d try to find a secluded spot on the crowded street so she could eat alone. It worked for awhile, but a couple other dogs caught on (I called them Fake Shelby and Feather Tail), so when they joined, we’d share. Those two were about the same age, and there was a younger one, like a teen, whom I called Grits. I adored Grits, too, and wondered if I took just one, which one it would be. And that Grits and Kudzu would both be great dogs for a Tallahassee Lassie.

Before

The feedings continued regularly, but Kudzu – and she’s always been Kudzu – didn’t gain weight. There’s a vet sort of nearby (like a 20-minute walk) and I stopped by one Saturday and got some wormer. I told him of my plan to take her and he thanked me.

The wormer was two doses, two weeks apart and I noticed she still hadn’t gained any weight a week after one dose. The morning of the second dose, I was walking up the slight hill to get to the neighborhood gate. I could see her as I walked up the incline, but when I surfaced outside the gate, I didn’t see her. Since by that time, the feedings had been going on for two months, people knew me and what I was doing. Seeing my baffled expression, a guy in one of the little storefronts motioned me to a red double gate. I gave him a look like, “Is it OK?” and he signaled yes. (After all, it was kind of trespassing.)

Opening the gate, I found a run-down kind of Narnia – an apartment building, several free-standing residence that had been thrown together, lots of mud, a depressing air and my dog.

 She came running to me, as did her shadow – a furry little pup, maybe six weeks old. No wonder she hadn’t gained any weight! Little thing was sucking her dry. I gave her the food I had, and she shared it with the pup. Fake Shelby, Feather Tail and Grits were nowhere to be found, but I promised Kudzu I’d come back with more food.

Yesterday

When I did, I didn’t see her, but a young woman came down from the second floor and asked what I was looking for. In broken French, I tried to frame it: “Je suis regarde pour le chien … avec la bebe.” She said, in broken English, “Oh, you’re looking for the dog with the puppies?” It hadn’t occurred to me she might speak any English.

From her, I learned that Fake Shelby and Feather Tail “belonged” to someone, but Grits and Kudzu did not. Fake Shelby, Feather Tail and Grits were more than Kudzu’s bitches, they were truly Kudzu’s bitches – two litters of her pups.

And I learned that the current litter had seven pups. They were weaned at that point, because when I brought some leftover chicken from a Korean restaurant in the neighborhood (a great restaurant and the only restaurant in the neighborhood), one of them ate the chicken.

I didn’t want seven puppies, or any puppies beyond the teenage Grits, so I just kept feeding Zuzu for a couple more weeks. I never saw more than two puppies and don’t know how many of the seven actually lived.

This kept up, with me feeding them at least once a day, usually before the morning shuttle. Some days, I’d catch a ride in with someone who’d pass me on the street. On one of those mornings, a Monday, I feed Kudzu – and only Kudzu, as there were no other pups that morning – I climbed into my friend’s car, buckled up, and looked down the road ahead.

There, in the middle of the street, lay a dead dog. I knew immediately that it was Grits, who’d weaseled her way into my heart so much that I’d come close to taking her home a few days before. Poor little thing.

Happy girl

The next morning, I saw Kudzu, and she had a puncture wound on her back and was putting no weight at all on one leg. It was clear she was starting to get beat up. I hadn’t seen the puppies for awhile at that point and when I asked, I discovered they’d been given away. I think she was getting beat up because the other dogs realized she didn’t have any value and she was too weak to defend herself.

That week, I stood guard as I fed her, warding off other dogs. Feather Tail, who definitely outweighed Kudzu and was much bigger, tried to attack her and I figured it was time to take Zuzu home. I’d been in contact with a vet with a car, so on a Friday we set a time to take her, have her spayed and vaccinated and then brought home.

Oh, it was so traumatic! Friday morning, she saw me and crossed the street in traffic to come jump on me and try to get in my backpack, the source of food. Feather Tail came running, too, and both were completely baffled that not only did I not have any, I slipped a foreign object around Kudzu’s neck. Obviously, she’d never seen a collar before, or a leash and she flipped out. I’d sized the collar wrong and hugged Zu close, telling it that it would be OK as the vet sized the collar to her skinny neck. It occurred to me that my face was close to her teeth and maybe that was a dumb idea since I hadn’t known her that long, but it was fine.

Yesterday

The experience absolutely terrified her. We scrambled her into the car, and when I went for the paperwork to return, I saw she’d crawled onto the dashboard like some kind of oversize bobblehead. Her eyes were filled with sheer terror.

The next time I saw her, those eyes were glazed over in a post-op daze. Poor baby had no idea what happened but was shuffled out of the truck into this strange place. Even entering the building scared her; it’s not likely she’s ever had a door close behind her, only in her face.

But she loved the back patio, and, once she went gingerly down the stairs, thoroughly enjoyed lying in the weeds in the yard, sunning herself.

It’s been about two months now and she’s gained weight and confidence. During our initial walks, she would freeze in fear when another dog would walk by, but she’s made a few friends now and enjoys hanging out at her friend Jax’s house during the day. Mostly, though, she loves not scrounging for food and sleeping in her bed, which is also my bed.

She’s learning how to be an American dog and not just a Malagasy mutt. She chews too much and nibbles too rough, but we’re working on that. She may go to boot camp in July, but the jury is still out on that.

She loves her life now, but one thing she hates is the other dogs in the house – the ones that live in the mirror. It’s so funny to watch because she will growl from across the room, then stalks up to the mirror to try to get them. This extends to reflections; every time we approach the entry doors, she leers and snarls at the approaching reflection. Even today, we were on the patio and I heard her growling. Initially I wasn’t even sure what the noise was and then I realized she’d caught a glimpse of herself in the sliding patio door. I thought she was going to charge it, but she held back.

The little invasive monster has taken over my life.

Killing time in Kenya

Lioness!

Since I haven’t taken much time off in the past few years, I’ve got a lot stockpiled and I’ve tried to schedule some. Last week, I had a plan to go to see gorillas sin Uganda and Rwanda, but there’s stuff going on in both those countries and security where I work suggested it wouldn’t be the smartest thing to hit either country, so I updated my plans and spent a week in Kenya instead.

Due to changing tickets and all, the travel part was brutal despite on-time flights (rare for the airline, I hear) but the trip was quite cool. I met up with a friend who works there and her rescue dog, who’s a gorgeous German Shepherd. Poor thing was kept in a small cage for years and only let out at night to play security.

But the bulk of the trip was a five-day safari, starting in Masa Mara, which is about four hours outside of Nairobi. I traveled with a tour that welcomed solo folks, and surprise surprise five of the travelers were solo travelers. We did have one very young Italian couple (who were late for everything, including 45 late for the original hotel pickup) but the other five were traveling alone. That’s a first for me, with the exception of one trip I did that was only for women traveling alone. Usually I’m the only person traveling by myself in any size group, so this was a treat.

Everyone was super nice and our driver/guide was amazing, too. Poor guy – he got more than he bargained for. His name was Joseph and he had the unfortunate luck to have not one but two flat tires. I have never been on a group tour and had a flat but we had them on consecutive days – one on the highway (beat up though it was) and one inside a park. Fortunately not at a place where there were predators.

Feeding fish

That one was rough. The highway one was easy, because the road was flat and there were big rocks around so we secured the Landcruiser from rolling. The one the next day (and fortunately, the safari Landcruisers carry two spares), we were in a grassy area of the Nakuru national park and there was not a rock to be found. As a result, just when Joseph had jacked up the vehicle enough to remove the flat, it shifted and collapsed. He then had to get this kind of super jack thing that looked like a giant plumber’s wrench. It stuck somehow on the back bumper and, had we had the vehicle secured, would have been easy. But no. Every pump he made, he’d have to hammer some little catch in so that it would stay up, and every time it got jacked up even one step, the mechanism slipped a bit.

In the end, Joseph had to call another tourist Landcruiser for help. Someone with two guides came with their jack, something that worked as blocks and some spare hands. All told, it took about an hour to change that one. And as a result of that, we had to call it with only four of the Big Five – we’d had gone hunting for the elusive leopard but ran out of time.

Lazy lions

But it was still awesome. Although I’ve done a safari or two before, this time, we saw a chess match that was a lion kill the first morning. It was fascinating to see play out, because the first thing we found was an alpha male just hanging out under a tree early in the morning. In these safaris, the guides all talk to another and there will be a congregation of Landcruisers (and they are all Landcruisers) wherever big critters were spotted.

That morning, we were with a group on one side of a small river, and there was a big, big herd of water buffalo on the other side. There was a small pack on our side, too, but initially our draw was the male lion, who was several football fields away from the river and the herd. But the initial draw lost our interest quickly, because we noticed about five lionesses on the other side of the river. They’d been stalking the herd and had split the small group on our side from the larger group on the other.

Rhino crossing

We got lucky, but one in the herd didn’t. The lionesses split, with one coming up from the side to stalk an individual calf. The ones in the back moved slowly up, and they basically encircled this one really young calf. Mama buffalo, and then Daddy buffalo, came to the defense but it went on and on. That calf survived the day, but another one stumbled and when it was down, the lionesses pounced – breakfast. We –and probably 20 other Landcruisers of tourists – watched the meal, first the young cubs, then the moms and, eventually, the alpha do-nothing male, who wandered up in time to run everyone else off and dine. It was really pretty gross; I couldn’t get good pictures of him eating the meat but I watched him through the binoculars and let’s just say ripping a raw steak off a corpse with teeth isn’t pleasant.

At another point, we were driving through the Naivasha park and one in our group shouted “Lioness!” Even though we’d been driving slowly, only she had seen this very large lioness approaching the road. We backed up and turned around to watch as she climbed on a low branch of a tree and called out. Not really roars, but kind of grunts. But that was very cool because if I’d had a yardstick I could have scratched her ears from my window. The animals get very close and, really, don’t seem to mind the vehicles.

Baby zebra!

Well, once they did – and scared me to death! I had never seen a hyena until the first evening – they come out at night – but the second day at lunch, as we looked for a shade tree to picnic under, we turned on a small path and a hyena absolutely leapt up out a small pool of water. It was right out my window. We hadn’t come close to hitting him or anything, but he was surprised to be woken up from his midday nap. 

One of the parks – I think Nakuru – had tons of really amazing birds. I was enthralled with them and the 25-year-old American on the tour asked if I was “going to become a bird lady after this.” I said I just might! We went out on a small boat to see hippos and the guide threw a fish out in the water so an eagle could swoop in and grab it. It’s a pretty amazing sight to see. They had kingfishers, ibis, herons, pelicans (one swooped over my head so close its feet almost hit me), eagles, flamingos, and a bunch more. It’s pretty easy to figure out why people like to watch birds.

Back in Nairobi, I went to the national museum and they had a full-on display of birds in Kenya and surrounding countries. I had no idea there were so many kinds and there’s no way I’d be able to tell the difference between X and Y of some species. Brown bird, another brown bird.

All in all, I had a great time and think I picked a good tour company. (There are so many, and the itineraries are all the same.) But I do still want to see the gorillas, so I hope that can happen next year.

Two out of three in Four

 My second road trip is in the books! More lemurs, hiking, chameleons and vegetation. This place, Andasibe, is maybe five hours away, but that doesn’t mean it’s far; it just means the roads are that bad. I went with a small group of five people, which is a good size. It cost a little more than I’d planned but there are only three places that are feasible as road trips, so I figure I’m front-loading my travel. In four months, I’ve knocked out two of the three possibilities.

Of course, there is plenty of in-country travel, but the roads limit what’s possible by car. I can think offhand of three weekend trips I want to do, but the involve flights. Those will come later, like maybe one in September. There’s one person here who wanted travel buddies so I signed up.

Andasibe was pretty cool – we did a night hike and saw the smallest lemur, which is about squirrel size. We also saw the largest, which is the size of a small human. There’s just an incredible range. The brown ones are very social and hang out in groups. The big black-and-white ones lounge in trees and communicate very loudly with what seem to be screams. The guides have recordings on their phones, so you’d hear the electronic version, which would send off a loud cacophony of ear-splitting howls that lasted for minutes. I’ve no idea what they were saying to each other, but they were decisive in saying it.

Besides the lemurs, we went to a crocodile farm of some sort. It was on the property of the hotel I’d preferred, but one of the travelers in our group was insistent of staying in the higher-priced one (which didn’t include breakfast, I might add). When we arrived to the crocodile place, he took a look at the lodge and said that it was super nice. I was like yeah, that’s why some of us voted to stay there!

I’d never seen so many crocodiles, and really had no idea they were more or less pack animals. There were several groups of the most giant dinosaurs I’ve seen still living. I cannot imagine how much they weighed or what might happen at feeding day. We weren’t to witness that; we just saw a bunch of them loafing around and sunning themselves. I was a bit jealous.

The place also had baby crocs. I don’t know of they bred them or what, but man, there were a lot of them. The little ones were cute like a baby dinosaur would be. At one point, we walked – one by one – over an Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom rope bridge, only not so high. But just like the one Short Round crossed, this one had crocs underneath it. Fortunately, no one had to “hold on” and “go for ride” -- we all made it across.

This group also visited the chameleon place again, the same place I’d gone to with Steph last month. It was just as cool – I really am fascinated with those things. The geckos were possibly the most amazing with their disguises, though. The guide would reach into a cage, pull out a log and start talking about a kind of gecko. We’d listen intently, completely blind to the fact there was a living, breathing gecko on the log; it just totally blended in and we didn’t see it until he’d point it out.

The night hike was similar – a guide would run ahead and then call us, pointing to something that there is no way on God’s earth any of us would have ever spotted by ourselves. He’d just walk by and say oh, here’s a tree frog and there’d be this 2-inch frog six feet away. At one point, he found a tiny, tiny chameleon, like smaller than my little finger. He was just walking and then stopped short. Every time he did that, we’d all look around and try to find whatever it was, but we never did. He’d patiently point it out and then it’d be like, wow, how on earth?

Now I am settled in until mid-February, when I am taking actual leave instead of a long weekend. I signed on for a gorilla tour and asked several people I knew, but no one could go. I’d written it off as having to go on another group tour alone and then the travel person here asked about the Andasibe trip. I said sure, I’d go, and by the way, do you want to see gorillas? In no way did I think she’d come but to my delight she said yes, so we’re head out.

It's hard to believe that trip is now in less than a month; January has flown by. After that, I don’t expect to take any more vacation until my R&R – predicted to be in July or so – but the same (or at least a similar) group expects to do the third road trip over Memorial Day Weekend.  

The heat is on: perfecting popcorn

My apartment is fantastic. Granted, right now, my kitchen ceiling is dripping, but that’s because the apartment above mine has a leak in the dishwasher; it’ll get fixed. But in general, I really love my apartment, and the kitchen is wonderful. It’s got a fridge and a giant freezer. This is because of our frequent power outages, I think, or maybe because stuff isn’t available all year so you’re encouraged to buy a lot when you find whatever it is you want.

Sad cookop results

Friday, I bought a little convection oven-type thing. It’s not a legit high-end appliance, but it will come on with the generator, which is a step above the oven that came with the apartment. Like the air conditioning, that oven isn’t on the generator, so now I can make toast no matter what. The downside to the stove is that the cooktop isn’t especially hot.

I also have a hotplate that works with the generator and while it’s marginally hotter than the cooktop, my early efforts to make popcorn proved unsuccessful. And by that I mean really, really bleak. I cook popcorn on the stovetop, using just a little bit of oil and then adding, post-pop, a lot of spices. Salt, black pepper, cayenne pepper, onion powder, garlic powder, Tony’s or Slap … it’s addicting. And it’s a pretty quick and easy after school snack that’s really not bad for you.

But man, my cooktop. I tend to use a small fist of popcorn kernels, which makes about one overflowing bowl with just a few unpopped kernels, but this cooktop just doesn’t get hot enough. My tea-making has also been less than stellar, but at least tea you can steep. Popcorn, not so much.

My microwave also operates on a generator so I sought out a way to nuke the kernels. Although I had never tried it, I’d heard of it. Unfortunately, my understanding had been that it involved using paper lunch sacks, and not only have no source for those but I also have no interest in contributing to the trash piles here. Recycling is not a thing, though I do my best.

So dadgum easy

An internet search for directions yielded the site “Downshiftology,”which suggested that not only was microwave popcorn doable, it was doable in other ways that didn’t included trashing the environment. One suggested way was to toss kernel into a glass bowl and put a plate on top of it. It was such a simple method it seemed like something I should have thought of on my own, but why would I? I don’t own glass bowls!

Suggestion No. 3, and the Downshifter glossed right over this, was to use a “stasher” bag. Anyone heard of that? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Yeah, me neither, but, after doing an image search, I discovered I had a useable one. It’s just a silicone baggie. I had no idea there was a proper name. I thought “silicone baggie” was the proper name.

Mmm...pop

And ya know what? It works! It’s ridiculously easy to put in a little oil (which is optional but I do it), a small fist full of kernels and hit “add 30 seconds” four times on the microwave. I’ve yet to figure out how to work the microwave any other way, and it works.

The cleanup is easier, too, because, although the silicone baggie gets super, super hot, it doesn’t sizzle when I throw it in the sink. Or when the leaky ceiling drips on it.

Sometimes it’s the little things. Popcorn is a real thing here. Last week we had a Christmas party and I manned the popcorn table. We ran out from time to time, and the line just stacked up and the people waited patiently – no one wanted to miss out on the popcorn.

I will freely acknowledge the goofiness of a popcorn cooking method changing my snacking ways but it’s a great snack. It might not be a game-changer, but I just cannot get over how easy it was.

Leapin’ Lemurs!

It took three months, but I’ve seen lemurs here on the fourth largest island in the world. Well, on an island off the island, to be more specific.

 

Blessed with my very first non-Foreign Service visitor, I went to Mantasoa, which is the closest “road trip” from home. It’s only 60-70 kilometers, but the drive was over two hours. It was definitely almost two, or maybe a solid two, when we turned off the main road, after which the last stretch lasted an hour but only around 15 kilometers. Yes, our roads are awful. We wound up hiring a car and a driver since my car hasn’t arrived and I was very thankful for that. Those roads would have ripped Cassian to shreds, and I don’t think I would have wanted to drive. “Awful” really doesn’t begin to describe how bad the roads are.

 

We stayed at the lodge there, which has a little “barge” that takes passengers on a 20-minute ride to a little island, where ringtail lemurs immediately welcome new arrivals. After a lovely dinner, that’s what we did on Thursday morning.

 

My friend and I were the only visitors at the time so we got a personal tour, a kilometer walk around the island, where we saw four of the five different types of lemurs living there. (We didn’t see the little nocturnal one.) Oh my, they were so very cute. There were lots of babies hitching riding piggyback on moms, and as I was taking pictures, I suddenly felt one jump on my head. It rode, parrot-style, with its little hands on my hat.

 

They’re just so cute. One species gave us a spectacular demonstration of movement – those things are on springs, it seems. Their leaps and bounds cover amazing ground; it was quite incredible to watch. (And even harder to capture on film, I learned.) Their paws are also incredible; there’s a large space between the thumb and the rest of the fingers/toes, so they can really get a grip. I could have watched them for hours.

 

But there was more to see on the little island, including colorful frogs, snakes and Nile crocodiles. It really was incredible.

 

The next day, we stopped at a reptile park, which was on the bottom of a very windy mountain road that pretty much had me queasy upon arrival, but I shook it off to again see lemurs. This time, we saw mostly brown common lemurs, which were super inquisitive and hungry – the guides bring bananas so we were able to feed them. Let’s just say I took lots of pictures.

That park was mostly a reptile park, so they also had frogs, geckos, snakes plus a host of chameleons, which were really amazing. The critters are kept in what could be called greenhouses; they’re super large cages that give lots of roaming room. There are plants and bushes everywhere and guests follow a guide to find them and see the varieties. And oh, my, the camouflage works. They are incredibly hard to spot, and then when you do, it’s a shock to realize how close you got without realizing they were looking at you the whole time. Once, I looked up and realized I’d been about to walk into one.

 

It was a lot of fun. I’d really waffled over which of three road trips to choose and that one won out because it was the closest. I’d really expected to have my car and figured that’d be an easier first excursion, as I fully expected to drive. It didn’t work out that way and I wondered if, since I hired a car and driver, I should have opted for a further-away place instead, but I’m glad that’s the one we did. It was really a lovely getaway.

 

Now it’s time to dig in. My car should be arriving soon, I guess, but there’s no hurry. The roads pretty much freaked me out and I don’t anticipate a lot of driving, but at least that will be an option. But a lot of the stuff to see – the baobab trees, Nosy Be, Saint Marie island – are all flights away, not road trips. I’m still trying to pace myself.

 

Right now, I’m not thinking beyond next week anyway because I have a DC-based class to do after work. It’s only Monday through Thursday, but it runs to midnight and unfortunately, there’s stuff I have to do in the office each day, so I can’t just work from home. Monday and Tuesday shouldn’t be too bad but ugh for the rest of the week. I thought I’d try to work from home on Friday since it’s a short day, but that’s the day of our office Christmas party, so I can’t skip it. But this time next week I should have recovered and be ready for Christmas.