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American PTSD

I have an idea, something, that has been swirling around in my head for over 20 years, and is now seemingly relevant again. And I don't think I have ever seen anyone else talk about it (and if you have, please let me know, because I would love to see other takes on this): Americans have collective - untreated and unacknowledged - PTSD from 9/11 and now, in the wake of everything happening in Minnesota, we are being collectively traumatized again.

I was 22 when those planes hit the Twin Towers. I was living in Denver. My alarm clock was a clock radio - 7 am wake up to KBPI, Rocking the Rockies. There was something "off" about the DJs talking that morning. A solemness. A seriousness. I could not figure out what they were talking about. It was surreal. It pulled me out of my usual need to hit the snooze button.

I immediately got up and walked into the living room to turn on the Today Show. Like I did every morning. I saw the second plane hit the tower. Not fully comprehending anything that was happening.

I thinly recall phoning my mother telling her to turn on the television. Her lack of immediacy prompting me to yell into the phone "WE ARE FUCKING UNDER ATTACK." Then running back to the bedroom to tell my future ex-husband to get his ass up and see what was happening.

And I remember days or weeks later (the timeline is a blur) crying in the shower, inconsolable, at the announcement we (the US) would be bombing Afghanistan for something they actually didn't do. And yes, if you were paying attention back then, you knew. There was zero reason to be invading Afghanistan.

We saw people die. We witnessed a violence on our collective that was previously incomprehensible. And our government's answer was to inflict more violence.

I honestly don't think we ever recovered. It was never acknowledged. If anything, it was buried. No one got to properly mourn. There was not reflection - there was no healing - no tears. The only response was revenge. Violence. "Healing" was covering yourself in the flag and bombing brown people.

Which leads us to today.

We all saw a man get murdered.

Two weeks ago we all saw a woman get murdered.

And we saw the callousness. The terrifying, cold response in the aftermath. They shot her. They shot him. And they don't give a fuck.

They clapped.

They fucking clapped.

And then the government lied.

And those of use who saw the videos. Who bore witness. We are left screaming into the void.

We saw people die. We witnessed a violence on our collective that was previously incomprehensible. And our government's answer was to inflict more violence.

But now, the violence is directed inward.

#minnesota #fuck ice

Colombia 2025 - Day 4

Y'all. This travelogue is brought to you by my lack of reading comprehension.

So, back in 2023 when I re-did the trip to Cartagena and the surrounds I discovered one of Colombia's hidden treasures: the ProAves program (https://proaves.org/). Fundación ProAves has 27 nature reserves throughout the country with the goal of protecting critically endangered and other species in Colombia - mostly birds. I had the absolute pleasure of booking a few nights at the El Dorado reserve (https://proaves.org/en/proaves-el-dorado-reserve/) in 2023. When I decided to come back to Colombia this year I knew I wanted to stay at another ProAves location.

Unfortunately, there are not many reserves in the immediate vicinity of Bogotá*. The one that was doable in the time I had? El Paujil (https://proaves.org/en/el-paujil-proaves-reserve/).

Now, the website is very clear on how to get there:

I, however, did not read this. Apparently. And I decided to buy a ticket on a Copetran bus from Bogotá to Puerto Boyacá. I was so proud of myself - buying a bus ticket at the bus terminal, in Spanish, with little issue.

What I did not count on was the fact that 1) there is not a published route for the bus - no idea what stops there were. I literally thought it would be a direct trip. I was very, very wrong; 2) they would not announce the stops; and 3) it would not stop in actual Puerto Boyacá.

So, 8 hours into what was supposed to be a 6 hour trip, we stop about 20 minutes away from what I thought was the Puerto Boyacá stop (per my obsessive looking at Google maps despite having 25% left on my phone battery)**. Again, no one even announced this was a stop. It was literally on the side of the road - no terminal.

I was expecting to stop in the center of Puerto Boyacá.

We depart what I thought was a random roadside stop (which is something that happened throughout my travels in Colombia - folks just randomly boarded and departed the various buses and trucks I was on) and I thought we'd arrive in Puerto Boyacá in 15-20 minutes.

But then I realized we didn't take a left when I thought we should take a left. So I checked my phone and...yeah. We were 20 minutes north of where I thought we should be. I don't completely panic, but I start to vigorously type into Google translate to talk to my seatmate.

I was fucked.

My seatmate went to the driver and explained what was happening. Obviously the driver could not turn around. But they said they could drop me off someplace I could easily grab a taxi.

The bus dropped me off on the side of a highway about 40 minutes north of where I was supposed to get off. I had to cross the highway to a gas station and roadside restaurant.

I was not all together successful in not crying whilst asking for help from the women sitting at a table at the restaurant.

They called over the gas station attendant and I'm trying to communicate what I need, but nothing is getting through. So, I call a friend. My guide in Bogotá: Hernan.

Hernan acts as my dial-a-translator and is a life saver/savior. The gas station attendant calls over his friend, who then calls his friend (who has a taxi), and 15 minutes later I am sitting in the back of a car with two random Colombian dudes taking me back to Puerto Boyacá.

I sob with relief and give everyone really sloppy hugs.

I don't even know their names. But I am so thankful for their kindness. And patience. The refrain: "Todo estará bien, tranquillo" was surprisingly comforting.

Hernan makes me share my location via WhatsApp and checks in with me throughout the 40 minute drive back to Puerto Boyacá. The two dudes from the random roadside gas station safely deliver me to my hotel.

***********

In the decade I have been traveling solo there has been a constant refrain from many of my friends and family here in the States: This is so dangerous! Be careful! (in so many words).

Maybe I am just exceedingly lucky. Maybe I am naive. Maybe my autism prohibits me from clocking danger. I don't know. But I tend to believe that people are actually more good than bad. And my experience bears that out.

All I know is that if I didn't trust in humanity... if I wasn't a little vulnerable...if I shut people out in the name of "safety"? It would have been a lot harder to find my way home.

* I booked this trip on points. In a miracle, I was able to fly to Bogotá from Boston for 35,000 miles. That is an insane deal. I looked into flying into Medellin instead, but it was literally 150,000 miles.

** The shitty, loose outlets in my hostel the night before left me with a 50% charged phone and an Anker battery pack with no charge. There were outlets on the bus, but they couldn't hold the weight of my Anker battery. It was...not ideal.

Colombia 2025 - Days 1 - 3

Hola, queridos lectores...

It's been a minute. Since we last spoke I hadn't even finished memorializing my epic trip to Ecuador and the Galapagos. Since then I have traveled back to Berlin, Montreal, Colombia (Cartagena and the surrounds), and Cost Rica. (This does not include the various travels in the lower 48).

The trip to Montreal (which was to go to the Raw Wine Festival) sparked an idea: re-doing trips I took with my ex-husband so I could do them my way, because he inevitably made me miserable during the original trip. Montreal was our honeymoon. Then I re-did Cartagena and Minca in Colombia, followed by Costa Rica. So, while this third stint to Colombia was not a re-do, it was sparked by the redoing of Cartagena. Why? Because Colombia is fucking amazing.***

Day 1 - The flight to Bogota was easy - and the upgrade to first class from BOS to ATL was a nice touch. However, even at its smoothest, the trip is a longish one. My flight from Boston left around 10 am and I did not arrive in Bogota until after 8 pm. Passport Control at El Dorado airport is not the quickest. While I have not officially timed all such activities, I believe this is only topped by the ridiculous pre-passport control leaving the Bahamas to re-enter the US. I was in line for over 90 minutes.

I grabbed a taxi and was able to pay with the COP I had left over from my 2023 trip (my money drawer rivals a Jason Bourne bugout bag). Despite being closer to 50 than 40, I love using Hostel World to book places to stay in South America. Now, I don't stay in the dorms, but a lot of these places have private rooms with an en suite bathroom for ridiculously good prices. I stayed at Botanica Hostel Bogota for about $50 USD a night - right in Candelaria. The room was basic, and I would have liked more consistent water temp and a working hair dryer, but I would not hesitate to stay there again.

Day 2 - While perusing Viator trying to find a birding guide I came across this: https://www.viator.com/tours/Bogota/Create-your-own-emerald-Colombian-ring/d4560-143729P3

Y'all, this was so much fun. I got to SMELT:

Ultimately I ended up springing for a gem upgrade and adding two more so I could make this:

I spent the rest of the day wandering around Candeleria and the surrounds, with a stop at the Museo de Oro when it looked like it was going to pour rain. Did I also buy a ridiculous pair of earrings at the museum? Yes. Yes I did.

I purchased a replica of these earrings from the Nariño Plateau which could date back to as early as 600 CE.

Something I will never not be ecstatic about: humans' creating art about other animals. Look at those silly monkeys!

Day 3- BIRDING

So, the first thing I did after booking my flight to Bogota was send a WhatsApp message to the birding guide I had at the ProAves El Dorado Reserve: Breiner.

Me: Hey Breiner! I am coming back to Colombia, do you have a friend near Bogota who can take me out birding?

Breiner: Of course!

Alas, Breiner's friend was booked for the time I was there. So he gave me the name of someone else...who was also booked. But they also gave me a name, and thus, it was fate that Hernan and I would go birding around Bogota and further afield.

I spent 15 hours with Hernan and our driver, Carlos. Hernan was determined to get me to lifer #500. Alas, I only logged 499 - despite several random stops. Including a roadside restaurant with this guy in the front:

Hernan and Carlos and I went to the La Florida reserve in Bogota, Laguna El Tabacal, and Jardin Encantado - with random stops therein. The day started with 457 species on my life list - and ended with 499. Not a bad day. Not a bad day, at all.

The birb list:

Blue-winged Teal * Andean Duck* Eared Dove* Sparkling Violetear Bogota Rail* Spot-flanked Gallinule* Common Gallinule* American Coot* Southern Lapwing Pied-billed Grebe Bare-faced Ibis* Strirated Heron* Western Cattle-Egret Osprey Torrent Tyrannulet* Eastern Wood-Peewee Red-eyed Vireo Southern House Wren Great Thrush Rufus-collared Sparrow Yellow-hooded Blackbird* Rufus-browed Conebill* Black Flowerpiercer* White-vented Plumeteer* Least Grebe* Neotropic Cormorant Ringed Kingfisher Green Kingfisher Olivaceous Piculet* ** Red-rumped Woodpecker* White-bearded Manakin* White-throated Spadebill* Rusty-margined Flycatcher* Social Flycatcher Southern Rough-winged Swallow Long-billed Gnatwren* Tropical Mockingbird* Swainson's Thrush* Black-billed Thrush* Summer Tanager* Crimson-bodied Tanager* Blue-gray Tanager Palm Tanager Blue-necked Tanager* Green Honeycreeper Saffron Finch* Bananaquit Ruddy Ground Dove Sparkling Violetear Black-throated Mango* White-billed Woodstar* Indigo-capped Hummingbird* Andean Emerald* Shining Green Hummingbird* Shiny Cowbird* Lesser Violetear Black Vulture Black-capped Tanager Beryl-spangled Tanager* Orange-chinned Parakeet Spectacled Parrotlet* Tropical Kingbird Bar-crested Antshrike* Common Tody-Flycatcher Scrub Tanager* Lesser Goldfinch* Yellow-bellied Seedeater* Black Phoebe Velvet-fronted Euphonia*

* New species

** Most ridiculous bird name this trip

*** Fun fact: when I first interviewed for Global Entry the interviewer grilled me about that first trip to Colombia. "Do you have family there?" "No." "Then why would you go there?" *proceeds to tell TSA agent what I did and why it was so cool* "Oh, wow, I think I want to go to Colombia now." Changing hearts and minds.

#colombia #bogotá #bogota #birdnerd

Galapagos Days 1 and 2 - 13-14 July 2021

Safely arrived at Baltra airport after a very early start to the morning. I was the first of my group to arrive and had to kill some time with a cerveza and fried plantain chips at the outdoor airport cafe. Very happy the annoying French family on my flight and the incredibly annoying group of loud Americans at the cafe were not part of my group.

Carlos, our intrepid guide, and Ricardo, one of the sailors and panga drivers, met us at the airport. Our group at the airport was 9 strong - another solo traveler like myself, two women who have been friends since middle school, and a family of five (adult children, thank god). I was pleasantly surprised as to how young our group skewed. I fully expected to be the youngest person on board, but I wasn’t even close! Solidly in the middle. Our final group rounded out to 10, with another solo traveler already on board the yacht (she would be with us for four more days as she did the tour of ALL of the available islands. I was jealous.)

After being shown our rooms, lunch, the required safety drill, and a lecture on the rules of Galapagos National Park, we took our first panga ride to Mosquera - a larger than average sand bar (or very tiny island). We were greeted by a group of boisterous sea lions and our first temptation to break the rules of Galapagos national park: so. many. seashells. and. coral. But, to the best of my knowledge, we were all good visitors and took nary a shell, rock, or coral with us. It was eye-opening, discovering how beaches would look without humans. We also left the skeleton of a long-since dead whale (according to Carlos its been there at least 30 years).

We sailed 6 hours that night to the island of Genovesa. Genovesa is the northern most island visitors can set foot on and most boats don’t opt to take the time it takes to get there and back. But not seeing Genovesa** was a dealbreaker (finding a ship that sailed to Genovesa and had a single berth!? Needle in the proverbial haystack).

Genovesa is (to the best of my knowledge) the only island in the Galapagos where you are all but guaranteed to see the Red-footed Booby. The lesser known counterpart to the Blue-footed Booby, I think the Red-footed Booby is far more charming. Or maybe it’s just because, when you get to Genovesa, you are practically tripping over them and their nests and their entirely too cute babies.

Are you afraid of birds? Even a little bit? Do not come to Genovesa. As we approached the shore that morning, the sky, the rocks lining the shore, the cliffs, the beach: filled with birds. And not small birds. In addition to the aforementioned Boobies: Giant Frigatebirds; Magnificent Frigatebirds; Swallow-tailed Gulls, Nazca Boobies; Red-billed Tropicbirds; Yellow-crowned Night Herons; and Striated (or Lava) Herons. And that’s not counting the tiny birds I actually made the trip for: Darwin’s finches. (The other small birds are the Galapagos Mockingbird and Galapagos Dove).

Genovesa is home to the Genovesa Ground Finch and the Genovesa Cactus Finch, unsurprisingly, only found on this island. (I won’t lecture you on the Finches but if you want to know more: click HERE or read “The Beak of the Finch” by Jonathan Weiner). The one thing I was a tiny bit disappointed about: my fellow yacht-mates and intrepid guide, Carlos, were not birdnerds like myself. But, by the end of the trip? I had Carlos downloading eBird and other people IDing birds, so maybe I made some converts.

Pro-tip: when you put on sunscreen this close to the equator, then go wash your hands? Yeah. Put more sunscreen on the back of your hands. Over a week later and my hands are still fucking burned.

We got back to the boat and immediately suited up for some snorkeling in Darwin’s Bay. I saw a shit-ton of fish, but I’m not a fish person, so I couldn’t identify more than the King Angelfish and Moorish Idol. But it was fucking cool. If you come to the Galapagos, go snorkeling. And don’t be whiny about the water temp. It isn’t that bad (I never used a wetsuit, but most of my shipmates did, except for Barb, my fellow badass - BUT NO JUDGMENT).

In the afternoon we made our way to Prince Phillip’s Steps and climbed our way to the top of Genovesa. Genovesa is a shield volcano. A caldera formed at some point (a crater-like hollow that forms after a magma chamber has emptied and collapsed) leaving a horseshoe shaped rim. We traversed the rim to see all of the birds we saw on the shore and added the Galapagos Shearwater, Wedge-rumped Storm Petrel, and the diurnal (!!!!) Short-eared Owl.

We made our way back down the steps and onto the pangas as the sun was setting.

Birds seen: Dude, no way I could keep track, so my eBird is probably not accurate

Miles traversed: 8.26

Juvenile Red-footed Boobies who joined us on the sundeck of our ship at some point: 3

** You think you know how nerdy I am, then you learn that I named my Animal Crossing island “Genovesa.”

#Galapagos #birdnerd

Quito Day 2

For those of you who don’t know, I have synesthesia. Synesthesia is a neurological condition in which information meant to stimulate one of your senses stimulates another, not typical sense. For some people this manifests in hearing music and “seeing” a color. I have a friend who has words that have a taste. For me, smells have a color. I will say, “oh, that smells purple.” When I pick out a perfume to wear I “match” it with my outfit. I’d never combine a brown perfume with a black outfit. (Honestly, I stay away from brown scents, I tend to not like them - they lean “sweet”). (And it doesn’t go both ways - I see a color and no smell manifests itself).

Anyway - the point of this diatribe is that cities often have unique scents. Not always (a lot of American cities don’t register with me), but when they do, it often manifests itself quite vividly in my brain. Moscow is a blinding, blinding white. Boston is a grey-blue (Paris is similar in color, just a bit deeper). Cairo is a bright yellow. New Orleans is chartreuse. Denver is a light grey. Marrakech is black. And Quito is a lovely shade of burnt orange.

I love a good burnt orange, so this was a delightful sensory experience. For the most part.

Quito: you need better restaurants.

Every meal was a struggle. But I survived. And, admittedly, I only had two days here and only saw a limited portion of the city, But dear lord. How many fried chicken spots does a city need?

I woke up this morning with no plan in mind and just set off walking. Ended up in Mariscal - the closest thing Quito has to a hipster neighborhood. I had hoped to stop in shops and cafes, but the options were limited. Not sure if that is normal or just pandemic related. I did, however, walk by three separate COVID vaccine tents. All of which had people waiting for their jabs.

Quito has been quite remarkable in that regard. Mask compliance is 100%. Indoors and outdoors. The only time someone doesn’t have a mask on is if they are eating or drinking. Ecuador has given out over 5.5 million doses of the vaccine, and their infection rates have been small compared to other South American countries (ahem, BRAZIL). I chatted up my waiter at dinner tonight. He’s getting his first jab on Thursday. Pfizer. He’s psyched.

But even with a lower vaccination rate, I felt safe here (and I would have without being vaccinated) because it is clear people have taken the virus seriously. Wearing their masks. I couldn’t walk into a restaurant or store without being sprayed with sanitizer. And an overwhelming desire (at least with the people I spoke with) to get vaccinated.

Anyway - no pics today. I head to the Galapagos tomorrow. Send me no-seasickness vibes.

Miles walked: 9.15

Kilos of laundry done because pigeons shat on me: 1.5

Times I saw cats on leashes: 3

Quito Day 1

I have not had butterflies about travel since November 2004. My first trip out of the country. To Paris. Since that trip nearly 17 (!!!) years ago, I traveled all over the world, largely by myself, without a care (Russian visa anxiety notwithstanding).

My last trip out of the country was in July 2019 - the last entries on this blog - to Madagascar. I was supposed to go to Paris in December of that year, but Gus having tumors all over his insides made me cancel the trip. My next international trip was scheduled for March 2020. To Beijing.

I blame myself for the panny.

I had hopes during the pandemic. That it wouldn’t be so bad. That it would clear up in a few weeks. A few months. By winter. And I booked (and then canceled) my trips. So when I finally got that sweet, sweet second dose of Moderna? I was on the Delta website planning my next adventure.

I knew I was not going to feel safe with a trip to a big city where I would go from restaurant to restaurant to shop to shop to museum to museum. I needed Madagascar redux. Galapagos was the obvious choice.

I’d been wanting to travel here for years, but, as a solo traveler, it was even more cost prohibitive than my usual solo trip. Very few boats in the Galapagos had single berths available for booking. If I wanted to go, I would have to pay double.

Then I found Solaris (http://www.yachtsolaris.com). Built in 2019, it has 5(!!!) single berth cabins. I booked the last one - at a 45% discount. I rounded out the trip with two days in Quito and 4 days in the Andean cloud forest. So here I am. In Quito. SItting in the lobby of my hotel, which is also one of the oldest residential buildings in the city, sipping Chilean wine, and composing this entry.

Getting here went smoothly, but I was so wired and full of butterflies the night before my departure I barely slept. I was a wreck. Packing? Not my finest attempt. Preparations? Non-existent. I arrived in Quito with no plans, expectations, or a base knowledge of the city.

I was also the youngest person in first class on the Atlanta to Quito leg of my trip. Every single person was decked out in their “adventure trip” clothing. All of them 55+. I apparently travel like a retiree. No wonder I am single.

We land. Passport control and customs are a breeze. I hail a taxi, get to my hotel, discover the toilet is beyond repair, and get a new room. But the hotel is super cute, the location is great, and the staff has been unbelievably helpful.

A quick sidestep into Covid: Everyone wears a mask. Inside. Outside. I wandered my way into a super crowded area of the city and felt fine - because, yeah, I was in a crush of people, but every single one of them had a mask on. And none of this shit Americans pull with the mask below their nose. Some of their precautions are not necessary (my hands get sprayed with alcohol everytime I enter a shop or restaurant) but I would much rather have overkill.

I woke up this morning (I missed desayuna), stepped out of the hotel, and walked. This is what I do. I walk.

Quito is adorable. I am staying in the heart of the colonial center, built on top of an ancient Incan city, and filled with 16th and 17th century architecture. It is a Unesco World Heritage Site for reasons. I didn’t go into the many, many churches because today is Sunday and services were happening, but I marveled from the outside and was happy enough walking the cobbled streets, just taking everything in.

Twenty minutes into my wanderings an Ecuadorian Rock Pigeon shat on me. My head. My shirt. My jacket.

Yeah.

I wiped myself off with the hand sanitizer wipes I had put in my bag and tried to continue on. But my clothes SMELLED. I SMELLED. I went back to the hotel for a quick change, asked about the laundering services and continued on.

There was a cultural arts and crafts festival happening - complete with traditional Incan dance and handiworks. I bought a few trinkets to bring home and found a cute restaurant where I could sit outside and enjoy the perfectly mild weather.

After lunch I went back to the hotel and climbed to the roof, five stories up, to take in the panoramic view. Then I retired to my room for a nap. Because I am on vacation.

Dinner was harder. I tried four restaurants before deciding on the place with a view. But honestly? The salmon was cooked perfectly, the service was lovely, and THE VIEW.

On my way home I helped an adorable Canadian couple reorient themselves and directed them to some food options.

I have no idea what I am doing tomorrow. I probably should have booked some sort of excursion. But if the worst thing that happens is I sit in a cafe and drink coffee or wine? That’s kind of the perfect vacation.

Miles walked: 7.24

Birds who shat on me: I estimate 2, but maybe 3 in a coordinated effort

Times I said “HOLA PERRO” to random doggos in the street: Too many to count.

Madagascar Day 14 - Andasibe

I cannot believe how quickly the last two weeks have gone by. If it weren't for the vast amount of mud and dirt on my clothes, I'd swear I just got here.

Tomorrow William and Fan and I will take one last hike through Mantadia in search of more Indri, Parson's Chameleon, and some geckos. Then the long drive back to Tana where I have a day room at a hotel near the airport. Flight departs at 00:55 and then, about 27 hours later, I land at TPA. I am very ready for Gus, Étienne, and Mabel cuddles.

I met Fan and Dadi at 7:45 this morning and we head off to meet William at Andasibe National Park. This is the most visited park in Madagascar - it's close to Tana and the hiking is very easy. So all those 65+ retirees who come here in groups love this place. And it's tiny, clocking in at 810 hectare (in comparison, the private reserve at Anjajavy is 960, Mantadia is 12,000, and Masoala? A whopping 240,000 hectare).

Andasibe is also one of the few places where you are all but guaranteed to see lemurs. And see them at close range. Unlike Mantadia and Masoala, which are primary forests with giant trees that soar into the sky, Andasibe is a secondary forest - newer trees, some replanted, previous victim to logging (illegal or otherwise). So you don't have to crane your neck nearly as high to see the Diademed Sifaka or Indri.

We we're blessed with good weather. It didn't rain last night and no rain this morning either. We set off and William immediately finds Bamboo Lemur just off the path. We only enjoy our little find for a few minutes before three other guides and their groups pounce on our spot.

William is clearly one of the better, if not THE best, guides in the area. He's off and finding stuff and the other guides mostly just follow his wake. This means we must move fast.

We were the first to happen upon a new Indri couple. Apparently they are kinda assholes and took over an area previously shared by two other Indri families. We were going to wait for them to finish their breakfast and do their business (ahem) closer to the rainforest floor, but suddenly there were a dozen people around taking pictures.

We were also the first to find a family of three Diademed Sifaka. I'm super in love with these guys. One of the best parts about this trip has been the exposure to lemurs that I've not had any interaction with in the past - either at a zoo or at Duke Lemur Center. I got a few good pics in before the crowds found us. However, we didn't immediately leave. I wasn't clamoring for any photos and William said to sit tight while he scoped out another area. The other guides had my back. I was just happily sitting on a log, watching the Diademed, when another guide pulled me into another patch of rainforest to see two younger Diademeds no one had yet noticed. Pro-tip (life tip, honestly): don't spend your entire life behind a camera lens.

William came back and we went deep into the forest. A bit off the path. And William gave me one of his challenges. He points in a general vicinity and tells me to find the animal. I scan the area and bam! Two Collared Nightjars cuddled together under a tree! This is one of the best finds of my trip. They are stunning.

Our next find is just as amazing. Two sleeping woolly lemurs! Cuddled together in a tree! It's so cute I almost can't contain myself.

We trek deeper into the reserve and hit Indri jackpot. A family of 3. Already descended to take care of their toilette needs. (I have no idea why the come down lower to do this...) We get to watch them for 20 minutes before they begin ascending back to the top of the canopy. No one else finds us.

We depart from Andasibe and head toward Andasibe the village. I am hoping to find a bag in the market that I can check at the airport. I have...bought things. No luck with a bag, but I did finally find lamba! I bought three beautiful pieces of cloth, now I just need to find someone back at home to turn them into something for me (I'd have done it here, there are women and men who just set up with old Singer's and offer their sewing services, but I'm too close to departure). Fan and Dadi and I try to get lunch in the village, but the place Fan knows about isn't open yet. Oh, and it is pouring rain. And has been for the last hour or so.

So we head back towards the lodge. I'm also supposed to go to 'Lemur Island' today. But Fan says it's no good in the rain. And then? The rain stops and the sun comes out and it's 12:15. So all the tourists are at lunch and Fan says that I need to go to Lemur Island. Now.

I am literally the only faza there. I have been kinda dreading this part of the trip. It is going to be crowded and has slightly questionable practices. It started nobely - taking in lemurs who couldn't go back into the wild. Now? It's more petting zoo.

I meet my guide for Lemur Island and I make it clear: I don't want to encourage lemurs to jump on me, I don't want to touch them, and I will practice Manatee Rules: you can't touch them, but if they touch you, it's cool.

Our first encounter: a family of black and white ruffed. Mama and baby are curled up asleep, but Papa is all up in our business. He reaches out and tries to grab my arm. I nearly die.

The we meet my beloved Common Browns. They are the most habituated lemur on the island. And yes, they will jump right on to your shoulder. I vowed. VOWED. To not take a lemur selfie. But there it is. I couldn't help myself. I'm sorry. This handsome devil followed me all through the island until...

I get the special tour. My guide brings me to the edge of the island, which overlooks the other island that people don't get to go to. That's where they have Bamboo Lemur, Diademed, and... RED FUCKING RUFFED. I am happily taking pictures from across the way when he tells me to stay put. I do. 10 minutes later? He paddles up in a canoe and tells me to get in. And we paddle to the other island.

Now. I don't leave the canoe, and I sure as shit don't even attempt to touch the lemurs there. But I get within inches of Bamboo Lemur, Diademed, and Red Ruffed. And in some crazy miracle no other tourist arrives while I am there. It starts pouring rain again so we paddle back to the dock, I depart, tip my guide well, and head back to the lodge for lunch.

After lunch I decide to go explore the lodge property. I set off with just my camera. Leave my phone behind. No water.

I start wandering and see a sign in French and I follow. It soon becomes apparent that no one has used this trail in some time. A normal person would turn back. Obviously all is well that ends well, but yeah, I won't be going on an impromptu hike into the woods for 2 hours without more than my camera.

I'm currently warming myself by the fire in the lodge. Munching on amazing Malagasy peanuts. Sipping on leftover wine. And feeling that usual bittersweetness that happens when I travel: I'm so ready to go home...but I also don't want to leave.

Madagascar Day 13 (12? I think I lost track along the way) - Mantadia

Outside of Tana, this is the first place I've stayed where I didn't have the actual ocean a few feet away, lulling me to sleep. I had to use one of my sleep apps to play waves crashing in order to fall asleep. But once I figured that out I didn't wake until morning.

Left the lodge this morning at 8. Met William, my guide here in Mantadia-Andasibe. William, Dadi, Fan, and I start the long drive up a very bumpy road to Mantadia national park. It's only about 15 kilometers away, but the road is so bad it took us close to 90 minutes to complete the trek.

We finally get to the trail head, I don my very chic leech socks and we head off into the rainforest. Little did I know...unlike everywhere else I've been in Madagascar, there are a shit ton of people here. Fan says I am lucky, because in the high season there will be hundreds of people here. I'm annoyed with the 6 to 10.

Luckily everyone else is either solo or in pairs. No large groups of Dutch, Germans, or Chinese (who will later become annoying today). So while there are more people than I'd like, most are quiet and not total assholes.

Birds were few and far between today, but, we hit the Lemur jackpot: common brown, black and white ruffed, diademed, and, in a nice surprise Indri. Indri are the largest lemur and they have one of the most interesting and mesmerizing calls in all of the animal kingdom. I will get to see them tomorrow as well, but finding them in the primary forest is rare and I am lucky to have done so. (This is also the only place in the world you can see Indri. Period. They don't survive in captivity, so this is it.)

The diademed is nearly as rare. Per my Lemur book (which is horribly out of date) there is only one diademed outside of Madagascar as of 2010 - and it's at the Duke Lemur Center (I will fact check this as soon as my WiFi connection is stronger).

Side note about leeches: they are tiny! And sneaky! Pulled several off my neck area before they latched on. And had to swipe several off my camera along the way.

We finish our hike (which isn't very long, to be honest), have lunch at a picnic area in the reserve, then start the long drive back to the lodge.

Once back at the lodge I reorganize my stuff and count my remaining dollars and ariary (I do this almost every day. I am forever scarred by my experience in Ethiopia). Once that is sorted I decide to head to the main lodge for fire and wifi. And who do I see there? Shereen and Gangagee, the two Americans I met at Anjajavy, then again at Moramanga where I gave them ariary. They insist on buying me a Three Horses Beer. We sit down, have beers, they order lunch, and their guide and driver join us. They are an absolute joy. And, in their defense, they have spent the previous 3 weeks on mainland Africa and dollars were accepted everywhere. However... Shereen knew. Women always know. She wanted to exchange money at the airport inTana and Gangagee insisted they didn't need to. She was rightfully smug about this. Especially when I had to front them ariary again because the lodge doesn't take bills smaller than $20.

They are celebrating their 47th anniversary this year. Which means I am totally in the 'totally age appropriate to be their daughter' range. I might make them my new parents.

Anyway!

I meet my dudes at 5:30 to head off on our night walk. William has made promises. All five of the local chameleon species. Fan laughs at him. Dadi laughs at him. I told him that I expect nothing less than 5 chameleon.

William came through.

We saw:

The Brown Leaf Chameleon;

Parson's Chameleon (the largest Chameleon in Madagascar);

Big Nose Chameleon;

Elephant Ear Chameleon;

Perinet Chameleon.

I find two frogs and a really creepy cricket. We see one mouse lemur. There are so many people on this road it's beyond annoying. William, Fan, and I walk in virtual silence. We only speak when we have to. But JFC the Germans and the Dutch. They can't shut the fuck up. At one point there is a whole group of them - numbering at least 20, headlamps shining up a tree. William says it's a lemur and heads over to investigate. I have to call him back. I don't care what is over there. I'm not clamoring with those assholes. I told him that the only way I would deal with such a thing is if there was an aye aye. He laughed and said okay. Later, in the car after we dropped William off, Fan said "tomorrow will be more people, but now that William knows you don't like other people, he will find a way."

I'm back at the lodge. My Zebu carpaccio was delicious, as was my Zebu and cassava leaf stew. I'm gonna head back to my room, turn on wave sounds, and, hopefully, sleep all the sleep.

#Madagascar #mantadia

Madagascar - Day 12 - Anjajavy to Mantadia/Andasibe

I left Anjajavy this morning with a bit of remorse. I feel like I could have done more. I didn't snorkel. I didn't explore the various coves. But it was also time to move on. The rainforest awaits...

The flight from Anjajavy to Tana was....not good. Y'all know I'm not a nervous flyer. Turbulence does not bother me. I've been through 3 or 4 aborted landings. No biggie. Planes are my happy place. But man, do things change when alarms start going off in the cockpit. I was blessed during my other small plane flights. Smooth. No issues. This one was bumpy from the start. I tried to distract myself by reading, but when the older Frenchman sitting next to me starts cursing in French under his breath it's hard to think of anything else but being 10,000 feet in the air.

Obviously things went just fine. But I've never been so happy to see an air control tower in the distance. My mantra: five minutes til Tana, five minutes til Tana....

Back on the ground in Tana I am met by Fan and Dadi. We put my shit in the car and start the 4 hour drive to Vakona Lodge.

I really enjoyed the...

Stop. The lodge just lost power. Remind me to never leave without my torch....

I really enjoyed the ride out here. I got to see a different part of the country that I had just flown over previously. Passing through small towns, watching boys 'patch' the numerous potholes in the road and put their hands out for a few ariary, all the women working the ride paddies, and countless villages that don't have electricity, yet giant electric towers soar overhead.

We end up stopping for a quick bite to eat at Moramanga. The largest city between Andasibe and Tana. Contrary to the Bradt guide, Moramanga does not mean "cheap mangoes". Mora does indeed mean "cheap" but manga, while it can mean mango, in this instance (and in all other instances I've seen) it means "blue." And, once upon a time, Madagascar had a caste system. And "blue people" were the lowest in the system. They were the slaves. Moramanga wasn't a place to buy cheap mangoes, it was a place to buy cheap slaves. And it makes sense given its location - smack dab in the middle of a major thoroughfare to the capital and one of the largest ports in the country.

Anyway. We stop for a bite to eat. I get fried shrimp (pro tip: fried food will almost never be an issue for your stomach. That dip in the hot oil kills all bad things). About 15 minutes after we arrive I notice a familiar face - an older couple who was at Anjajavy has stopped at the same restaurant. But, being American, they didn't have any ariary. They just assumed everywhere would take dollars. Bank of Kirs saved them and I took some dollars for some of my ariary.

About an hour later we arrive at Vakona Lodge. It's dreary right now. Cold. Rainy. I'm not sure I'm equipped for this. The staff all laugh at my Malagasy. Sad Kirs.

I'm told I need to pick my dinner now. The menu is ... Very Western. They have an entirety different menu of Malagasy food, but apparently that isn't part of my full board. Fan promises to talk to them tomorrow. I don't want spaghetti for dinner. But for tonight I choose a starter and entree. I get a side eye when I say I don't eat dessert. I don't! Sorry!

Luckily I have the cabin closest to the lodge. No long walk in the dark, wet, cold. But I get there and dear lord it's freezing. I put my things down, close the window above the heater, and head back to the lodge in search of WiFi, warmth, and wine.

I find all three. I'm allowed to reserve a table by the giant fireplace. It's one of those multi sided things that you usually see in ski lodges. I'm happy to see it here. I'm just gonna camp out and drink red wine to stay warm.

I think I'm the only American here. We have some Aussies, Frenchies, Brits, and my first encounter with Chinese tourists in Madagascar. Man, the Malagasy do NOT like the Chinese tourists. And they have a love hate relationship with China's money helping with their infrastructure. They want the new roads, but every Malagasy I talk to says, essentially, "But at what cost? Our rosewood? Our ebony? What other resources do they want?" Is this just another colonization?

So I'm sitting here in the lodge. Thankful for fireplaces. I don't think I felt this cold in Moscow.

Tomorrow I meet my guide. And we head to Mantadia. Where there are leaches. And, hopefully, diademed Sifaka and indri. And all the birds and geckos and chameleons and other beautiful creatures. I'm not done with you yet, Madagascar.

#Madagascar #travel #Anjajavy #Andasibe

Madagascar - Day 11 - Last day in Anjajavy

Anjajavy and I have a complicated relationship.

Is it beautiful? Yes.

Did I get to see lemurs and birds and reptiles and insects? Yes.

Were the guides good? Better than good. Exceptional. Radu and Lucien especially.

The service? Spectacular.

The location? Spectacular.

Here is where I'm having trouble. Malagasy are poor. Incredibly poor. Most Malagasy live on a couple of dollars a day. So, when the lodge charges 5 fucking euros for the same beer I can get in Tana for 30 cents? One wonders where that money is going.

And man, does it feel gross to order a bottle of wine and know I am paying more for that than some Malagasy make in a month.

The upcharges and guide fees are exorbitant. I have literally had to pay 30€ a day for private guides. But how much is that going to Radu and Lucien? And not Cedric, the French manager?

And then each walk can cost money on top of that. To what end??

The cost to stay is here is mind boggling. My whole trip could have probably cost half as much but for this stop (this is the last time I use an agency to book anything).

So did I have a good time? Yes. After my initial freak out I managed to make Anjajavy my own. I sought out the guides. I made friends. I traversed tsingy, walked through mud flats, and occasionally relaxed and gave in to all the bougieness.

I also ate amazing Malagasy food. Every day at lunch you were given two main dish options. A Euro centric dish and a Malagasy dish. Or. If you are an asshole, you could order off the larger menu. Every other person I saw ordered off that menu. Spaghetti. Sandwiches. You fly thousands of miles to have a club sandwich? Fuck you. Also, pork is fady in Sakalava and you shouldn't be ordering that shit.

Maybe I'm the weird one for caring about this? Is fady ridiculous? Yes. But no more so than people believing some dude died on a cross and was resurrected 3 days later.

Everywhere I travel I'm just astounded by the outright ignorance of my fellow travelers. Now, I don't know everything. And I am quite sure I've offended someone along the way, but at least I fucking try.

Oh. What the blog is supposed to chronicle: Today I woke up super early and Radu and I set off at 6:30. I saw the Madagascar Crested Ibis and the Coquerel's Coua. And lots of hairy crabs. They are terrifying. I also had my first spelunking experience! There were bats! And guano! And stalagmites and stalactites! And FOSSILS OF EXTINCT GIANT LEMURS! Oh, and giant zebra cave spiders.

After we got back I didn't do much of anything. I ate a late breakfast of rice, chard, and sausage. I packed. I wrote postcards. I read my molluscs book. Then lunch. Then a nap. Then tea time with the lemurs and birds. And now dinner by the pool. (Which I never set foot in)

The stars are bright. The nearly full moon is glaring. The wind is blowing some of the freshest air I've had the privilege of breathing. Waves are crashing against the shore. Malagasy music is in the background. Dominic, who has made it his mission to teach me Malagasy has left me with three new phrases. And I'm a little sad to be leaving.

Madagascar - Days 9 and 10 - Anjajavy

Yesterday was epic. Walked over 20km. Saw all the birds and geckos and snakes and chameleons (and more than a few Sifaka).

Radu and I got an early start, leaving the lodge at 7:30. It was a good day for birding. Saw everything from the Crested Coua to Madagascar Bee Eater to the Cattle Egret (who was standing on the back of a Zebu traversing a small pond). We spent over 7 hours out on the trails. I managed to only step in Zebu poop once. Given how much Zebu poop is all over the place, this is a minor miracle.

We trekked for 14 kilometers before stopping for lunch. The lodge was kind enough to pack us some rather delicious sandwiches (I had chicken, pickle, and tomato). But by the time we had stopped for lunch I had nearly exhausted our water supply (it was hot yesterday, and most of the landscape was open Savannah). Luckily we stopped at a natural spring where I was able to refill my Grayl twice before tackling the last 6 kilometers to the airstrip (where I was pleased to see one of the lodge's trucks - I'm not sure I had another 7 kilometers in me at that point).

By the time I got back to the lodge, washed off the copious amounts of red dirt all over my body, and changed my clothes it was time to head over for tea in the garden and await the appearance of lemurs.

Instead of lemurs, I was greeted by three more groups who joined the lodge. Two of which consist of very loud and obnoxious Americans. And one of those have 3 fucking children with them. The normally peaceful garden 'oasis' is now ruined by three children screaming and running around and some asshole who keeps saying, very loudly, that he better see some "Sikafa" soon.

I quickly downed my lime juice and went back to my cabin to read my book on molluscs.

I heard this morning that the lemurs never arrived....

Between tea time and dinner several of the lodge employees put on a show. I was wary of such a thing. Displays of local culture for the benefit of white tourists has always made me uncomfortable. But Lucien, one of my intrepid guides, was MCing the event and implored me to attend.

I am glad I did. It was lovely. Great music. Great dancing. Hawt men in skirts... All on the beach, sun setting in the background.

This morning I had a late start! Met Ernest at the front of the lodge to walk over to Anjajavy village at 8:30. Sunday is market day in the village, which means other people from the lodge would also be making their way there. I was the only one who walked. Everyone else took the lodge trucks.

On the path to the village we have to wade through a stream. And that is where I nearly lost my shit with excitement. MUDSKIPPERS! MUD FUCKING SKIPPPERS!

In theory I knew mudskippers were in Madagascar. I just never expected to find them! And yet, here they were! In abundance. I made poor Ernest hold my sandals while I took copious amounts of pictures. I couldn't stop laughing and giggling I was so excited.

But onward to the village we must go.

Anjajavy village is built on sand. Beautiful, white sand. Very pretty. Very not so good at growing anything. Except palms. Palms abound.

Our first stop is with the local sculptors. Two gentlemen in the village carve absolutely gorgeous pieces out of found wood (it is illegal to cut most hardwood in Madagascar, but if a branch falls, it's free to use). I had to stop myself from buying all the things.

While I was perusing the shop a gaggle of children gathered at the door and windows.

Me: Salama (hello)

Gaggle: Fits of giggles

Me: In vovo? (How are you)

Gaggle: Scatters, two fall down trying to get away

The two older gentlemen cannot contain their laughter. I buy all the things and then all the children come running back because they want to take a picture with me. I happily oblige.

Our next stop is a women's cooperative that does needlework. Yes. I buy all the things here as well. It's hard not to. One - the craftsmanship (womanship?) Is excellent. Two - the prices cannot be beat. And three - this is one of the best ways I can positively contribute to Madagascar (besides being here in the first place).

Ernest and I then walk through the regular market, where the locals get together to buy and sell wares and foodstuffs and socialize. I end up buying a counterfeit Barea shirt, and Ernest dutifully shakes his head at me and probably thinks I'm a dumb faza. He stops me from buying smoked molluscs from an old woman.

We walk through the rest of the village, meeting people, stopping in at the bar (too early for a THB, unfortunately), and petting all the goats.

Right before we get to the beach proper a woman runs up with her baby. She and Ernest exchange words in Malagasy. She wants a picture of her and her baby. I ask Ernest for clarification, since I can't exactly print out photos. Apparently she just wants to see the photo. So I am happy to take the photos and show her the results on the preview screen. She spontaneously hugs me. (Pretty sure that baby got a bit squashed). I do my best in Malagasy and French to thank her and coo at her baby. I am hoping I can somehow get a print of the pictures I took to her.

Ernest and I walk down the beach towards Kinnga. Along the way I notice amazing shells. I end up stuffing my pockets (and, when we get to Kinga, a coconut shell, since that's better protection than my pocket).

Ernest, apparently, has gone off script. We weren't supposed to go to Kinga. That's an entirely different endeavour. But Ernest is very young and apparently called in his favors to take me out today. (Poor Lucien got stuck with one of the annoying groups of Americans). We are met by another gaggle of children. I hear whispered 'Menas'. Mena is 'red' in Malagasy.

The only way to get back to the lodge from here is to either 1) go all the way back to Anjajavy; or 2) take a canoe across the lagoon. Ernest didn't account for the fact that all the adults in Kinga would be in Anjajavy for the market...

He's clearly panicking a bit. I just go off in search of something to hold my shells. One of the young boys helps me sift through a pile of burnt detritus to find a coconut shell that will work perfectly.

Much to Ernest's relief, he finds a teenager still in the village who will take us across the lagoon to the other beach. I get to ride in a traditional Malagasy canoe for all of two minutes.

We walk back to the lodge. I eat lunch, read my book, skip tea time since the Sifaka came through an hour earlier and I saw them, walked the beach in search of cool shells, and went on a night walk with Lucien where we saw 3 types of mouse lemurs.

One more full day in Anjajavy. I cannot believe I go home in less than a week. Madagascar is magic. And I am not sure I want to leave.

Madagascar - Day 8 - Anjajavy

Alas, I failed to stay awake for the Madagascar and Tunisia game. On the other hand, this was the best night of sleep since I arrived in Madagascar. I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume it's because I've stopped the malaria pill nonsense. I'm willing to take the almost non-existent risk of contracting malaria in exchange for solid sleep.

Woke up early to stretch on my front deck with a trio of brown lemurs who took up residence on the tree in front of my cabin. Then went to grab some fruit and coffee before meeting my guide, Lucien. We spend nearly 5 hours walking through the private reserve. There are only two diurnal lemurs in this part of Madagascar (the brown lemur and the Coquerel Sifaka) so this walk was mostly about finding birds, other random animals, and seeing the staggering landscape. We also stopped along the way at several caves, a sacred tree, and the former home of the local Witch Doctor where one of the other lodge employees, Honore, played his handmade kabosy and then let me try to play it, to the delight of no one...

We also got to stop and see the lodge's conservation efforts - they are actively reforesting the reserve and are now home to 12 giant tortoises they are trying to re-introduce to the area after over 2000 years of Madagascar being without an animal to fill their ecological niche - the primary spreader of baobab seeds. One of the tortoises, John, is apparently very fond of neck scritches and when I approached he stood up and stretched his neck out far. I was happy to oblige. I had to try not to cry tears of joy - I get so stinkin' emotional when it comes to animals. Having the privilege of touching such a magnificent creature was more than a bit overwhelming.

We also saw a rainbow milkweed locust. Go Google it. Be horrified and amazed at the same time. I had zero desire to touch him.

Lucien and I finally returned to the lodge where we were greeted with glasses of lime juice and ice cold wet towels. Sometimes bougie is nice?

I sat down in the lodge with my iPad where I have all my animal guides and logged everything we saw. Radu, one of the other guides, then came up and said I needed to meet the chef (since, apparently, I am the only faza to order the Malagasy meal every time). He has now agreed to let me in his kitchen and will teach me a Malagasy dish on Sunday.

Whilst sitting in the lodge and reading a book on moluscs, the lodge manager, Cedric, comes up and asks how I am doing. I'm wonderful, actually. He wants to double check that my itinerary is correct. We go through it. Yes. Correct. "Are you sure?"

Me: Umm.... Yeah. Is there a reason I shouldn't be?

Cedric: Well, no one has ever done this itinerary before. It is a lot of walking. Are you sure you don't want to take the car? Most of our guests take the car.

Me: Seriously? Cedric, I will be fine. Trust me.

Cedric: but it's 20 kilometers!

Me: Dude, Lucien and I walked 13 kilometers today. I could have done twice that. 20 won't be a problem. Promise.

Cedric: ....

Me: I absolve you from all liability for my very long walk.

Here's what this itinerary has done, besides scare Cedric: endeared me to all the guides at the lodge. So, when the sun was just starting to set, Illody (the lodge's vet) and Radu come grab me to go on an aye aye hunt. There are 2 aye ayes in the area. And they have the lady aye aye radial collared, so they have a general idea of where she is at. Tonight she was in her 29th nest (yes, she's built 29 nests in a year's time). We take the lodge truck as far as we can then set off on foot, quickly heading into the forest and the very sharp and very precarious tsingy. Tsingy is an ancient limestone formation that is characteristic in this area. It's fun to look at. Not so much to touch. So says my scratched hands and slightly lacerated knee.

The Malagasy men with me are doing this in sandals. I've got my hiking shoes on and it's a struggle. I don't know how they do it.

We reach the aye aye's nest. And wait. And wait. And wait. Meanwhile, the forest is erupting with the screams and grunts and hollers of the brown lemur. They are loud little fuckers. And then...

Movement in the trees! Shouting in Malagasy! Pretty sure swearing in Malagasy! Flashlights everywhere!

She was there...and then she wasn't. Quick little thing, our girl. Only the tracker got a glimpse. And he said he only saw her tail.

We make our way back through the tsingy. I, miraculously, get out with only the small cut on my knee. And while I didn't get to see the aye aye, I did: get to trek through the woods and tsingy with 3 Malagasy men who were just as psyched as me to see the aye aye; see my first chameleon; and see the absolutely adorable golden brown mouse lemur, which is only found in this part of the world and is not held in captivity anywhere else.

On the ride back home I show Illody and Radu pictures of Gus, Étienne, and Mabel. I tell them all about Florida wildlife. Neither had heard of the manatee. So as soon as I had WiFi I pulled up pictures. They were astonished. And even more astonished that I can see them on the regular while paddle boarding. I forget sometimes that I live in a part of the world with incredible and diverse wildlife. I won't take that for granted going forward. Be prepared for night walks at Bungalow Bohème.

Madagascar - Day 7 - Anjajavy

Another early morning start. Arrived at the charter plane by 6:30. I am immediately annoyed. So. Many. White. People.

Now. I'm not immediately averse to white people. But they gotta prove themselves. Especially when traveling in a country not predominantly filled with other white people. Every single one of my fellow white travelers failed. They didn't thank anyone in the office (they did demand different coffee tho). They didn't even acknowledge the pilots (but they were happy to put their cameras into their personal space while on flight). No attempts at French and definitely no attempts at Malagasy.

I am the only solo traveler. There are two older couples and a family. We land in Anjajavy and are transported to the lodge via truck. The climate here is a drastic change from Masoala. Where in Masoala I was a constant prune, with varying levels of dampness, Anjajavy is a desert. It takes about a half hour to get to the lodge on the very bumpy dirt road. I catch glimpses of Sifakas and baobob trees on the way.

We arrive at the incredibly bougie lodge. It is so damn bougie they don't even operate on the Madagascar time zone. They put everything an hour ahead. This is dumb.

For the record: When NatHab sent me a proposed itinerary I questioned this stop. It did not seem like someplace I would pick on my own. I emailed the NatHab team: "But are we sure I won't get tired of Anjajavy for that long? I am also very concerned about what I call privileged white lady syndrome. I am very aware that not everyone can do this. And that I literally make in one week what many Malagasies make in not just one year, but many years. I just want to make sure I am doing this right."

They assured me that this was fine. That I would have plenty to do and it wasn't as bougie as it seemed. Well. It wasn't as bougie as it seemed. It was FAR bougier. And to have plenty to do? I'd have to shell out what is, so far, an untold amount of money to get the experience I want. Sigh.

When we arrived at the lodge it took everything in my being to not ask to be taken back to Tana.

That is not to say that this place isn't lovely. It is. It's fucking gorgeous. The staff is amazing. The facilities are 5 fucking star. But... 5 star isn't what I was looking for. I want to trek through rainforest and traverse tsingy. I want to spend 6 hours in search of a lemur and get gross and dirty while doing it. I want to come back and be so exhausted that I don't care that my cabin had a second floor (yes, it has a fucking loft. I refuse to go up there).

I got into my cabin and nearly had a panic attack throwing out all the superfluous flowers they had laying about. WASTING FLOWERS ISN'T FANCY, MKAY! I may have sat down and stress cried. I have 5 days here. 5 days of white person Madagascar.

I took my frustrations out on my laundry (they want to charge me €1 for every piece of underwear they launder. No.) I fill up the sink and scrub, scrub, scrub. Handwashing laundry is an overlooked life pleasure.

By the time I'm done washing and hanging my clothes I am calm enough to go back to the lodge and seek out a guide. They give us this paper to fill out with what we want to do, but... I don't want to do any of those things? And I definitely don't want to do them with the other assholes here. So I get a glass of water, pull a Lemurs of Madagascar book off the shelf, and wait for a guide to meet me.

Radu and I spend over an hour together. He gets it. I tell him about my experience in Masoala with Sarafen and how no other way will do. He lights up when I tell him about how many helmet vanga I saw in Masoala. He's a bird guy too.

We come up with a rough sketch and he says he will finalize and find me later.

I spend the afternoon sitting under some trees at the far end of the beach. Everyone else is at the pool.

Late late afternoon I go in search of a glass of Rosé. And shortly thereafter Radu comes up and gives me his proposed schedule. We start tomorrow. 7:30. Trekking for 5 hours.

At 5 I am told to enjoy tea time at the Oasis. This is actually fucking wonderful. I am the first guest to arrive. I get a glass of lime juice. And as I sit down, a brown lemur crashes through the trees. A few minutes later a Coquerel's Sifaka comes bounding through the garden. I snap all the photos.

I'm wandering around with my camera, the only one looking for birds. Radu comes up and takes me on a mini guided tour. I see the Madagascar Hoopoe; Madagascar Magpie Robin; the Grey-headed Lovebird; the Crested Drongo; some Paradise Flycatchers; amongst others. Maybe this place isn't so bad after all?

After spending two hours watching lemurs and birds I know it is time to head back, snap some sunset pics, and get ready for dinner.

I'm currently on my private deck. Listening to waves crash on the shore. I've opened up every window and shut off the AC. I'm a little wine drunk .

Going to try to stay up and watch the MAD v. TUN match for AFCON. Send me wakeful football vibes.

Madagascar - Days 3 - 6 - Masoala and Tana

Y'all. I wrote a whole damn post about the amazing 3 days I had in Masoala in the Tumblr app. I have not yet learned this lesson. An hour's worth of work gone into some internet back hole, never to be seen again.

I might feel inspired to draft again, but right now I'm too annoyed. In short:

Lemurs seen: brown and white headed; black and white ruffed; red ruffed; Masoala wooly; sportive.

Birds seen: Helmet Vanga; Bernier's Vanga; Blue Coua; Paradise Flycatchers; Kingfishers; White headed Vanga; Red tailed Vanga; Red ruffed Coua; Madagascar Magpie Robin; Blue Vanga.

Sarafen, my guide at Masoala, is my rain forest soul mate. We spent over 10 hours together, just in the Masoala primary forest. That doesn't count canoe trips, walks to the village, and our night walks.

I'm currently wandering around Tana stopping at random sketchy bars and drinking Three Horses Beer. My NatHab guide would be appalled (every time I see him he tells me to be back at the hotel before dark. This dude does not know me). Also, Tana is very safe. No one need be concerned.

Tomorrow I head to Anjajavy. I am not sure how it tops Masoala. All I know is that, so far, I can't imagine not coming back to Madagascar. This place is magic. I am so happy right now.

Tana - Days 1 and 2

After 20 hours in the air and 30 hours total travel time I landed at Ivato International Airport surprisingly competent and functional! All flights were uneventful and I was blessed with a seat partner on the longest leg (CDG to TNR) who slept the entire time.

Met my guide and driver at the arrivals hall after breezing through the health check (yes, they take your temperature when you arrive), buying my Visa (and informing the clueless British couple that yes, they did have to pay €70 for their visa, it wasn't a scam - who the fuck doesn't research this shit before going somewhere?), clearing immigration, and, finally, getting waved past customs.

Fan will be my guide for Tana and at the end of my trip when we go Andasibe. Naina, my driver, speaks no English and was quite bemused at my attempts at Malagasy.

Tana was shockingly dark. Almost no light pollution at all. However, other pollution prevents one from seeing even a single star in the sky. In winter months the Malagasy burn wood and turn it into charcoal bricks so it can be used again for heating and cooking. It's a smoky business. I was immediately taken back to Addis Ababa which had a similar scent permeating the air. The mix of wood burning, garbage burning, and car exhaust. It's honestly not a bad smell.

We have a quick drive to the guesthouse I will stay at while in Tana (I hesitate to call it a hotel. There are only 4 rooms. And the top floor? Inhabited by the Consulate of Monaco. New level of bougie unlocked.)

I sleep through my alarm and barely make it out of the room to meet Fan in the front room at our agreed upon time. He's not bothered and tells me to go get breakfast - "you are on Malagasy time now. No one is in a hurry."

Breakfast was simple. The coffee was rather fantastic. And there is a dog (alika, in Malagasy) on the premises who I let in from the porch to be my breakfast buddy.

The rest of the day is spent touring the city. Naina drives us up to the Queen's Palace and we look at palaces and ruins and I learn about the Kings and Queens of Madagascar with unimaginably long names. We take our time walking from the highest point of the city to Independence Avenue where the streets are jammed with people and cars and food carts.

We stop in at a cafe for my first taste of Malagasy cuisine. And we chat and people watch and Fan teaches me useful Malagasy phrases to have at the ready.

Back at the guesthouse I am surprised by two things 1) I had no idea I had a private swimming pool to myself; and 2) there is a tortoise who loves to sun by said pool. I've named him Fred.

Tomorrow is an early day, 6 am departure for my charter flight to Maroantsetra, where I will catch a boat to the Masaola peninsula and begin my lemur adventures. So tonight I will have an early dinner at the hotel, hopefully sleep at a normal hour, and definitely not snooze through my alarm.

Kilometers walked: 9.2

Lemurs seen: 0

Other animal friends made: 2

Moscow Recap

I cannot believe I go home tomorrow. Once again, 10 days is not nearly enough.(And to think that I thought to try to squeeze Saint Petersburg in the same trip!)

I'm mostly packed, I have given my personal thanks to Marina, Tatiana, Anna, Alexander, Elina, and Alexei for all of their incredible hospitality over then last 10 days, and I am having one last glass of bubbles in the Alexandrovsky bar before heading to my last dinner in Moscow at Beluga. The Hotel National has truly been a home away from home and I am so glad I stayed here.

To say that Moscow has been spectacular is an understatement. This city, the people, everything, is magical (I could do without the rampant racism and white nationalism tho, work on that, Russia. I'd really rather not see blackface during the ballet).

Some final thoughts:

- The annoying Visa process was totally worth it.

- I sometimes regret my decision to take Russian instead of Spanish in high school. That is a stupid regret. This trip would have been infinitely more difficult if I didn't have a basic grasp of the language and the Cyrillic alphabet. I do not know how people travel here without it.

- Russians are truly amazed when I tell them I studied Russian in school. 25 years ago. A lot of the people I spoke to assume that Americans hate everything Russian, including their very difficult language.

- As I say after nearly all my trips abroad to "questionable" locales: you must separate the people from their government. Just like we don't want to all be associated with that asshat Trump, Russians are not all Putin lovers. They are just trying to live their lives and scrape by in a hyper new-capitalistic environment where the cards are stacked against them.

- In that same vein: I did not meet a Russian Oligarch to marry.

Borscht ranked:

5. Молоко - the smoked venison drew me in, but the broth was weak and flavorless.

4. Хитры Люди - Borscht with fish is not my favorite, but the broth at least had umph

3. Страна Которой Нет - A classic presentation. The standard bearer

2. Техникум - I struggled with the last two. Both are amazing. But I actually had to give Техникум second place because they used duck, which was amazing and delicious and I would eat it everyday, but ..

1. Гостиница Националь - my hotel bar wins. A classic borscht with beef. The broth is addictive. I had two bowls during my stay and each time I wanted to order another bowl immediately thereafter because it is that good.

- Regret: Not trying borscht everywhere I went

- I didn't visit a singular museum my entire stay. I'm 💯 okay with that.

- I only saw two other Americans the entire trip and they were insufferable assholes.

- I'm not sure I've ever laughed so much during a trip. Muscovites are a delight. And when they are extra they are EXTRA in the most lovable way possible.

- There are a lot of metal detectors and полиция everywhere. Lots of perfunctory looks into my bag.

- This is the first trip outside of Germany where I wasn't harassed on the street at some point. (we will not talk about the unsolicited dick pic some moron sent me via Instagram.)

I miss my boys. Very much looking forward to Gus, Seamus, and Étienne snuggles tomorrow night.

Moscow, I will definitely see you again. Спасибо за все.

The final tallies:

Total Kilometers Walked: 58.2

Total Bowls of Borscht Consumed: 7

Total Vodkas: Honestly, I lost count after the Russians had me taking shots on New Year’s Eve

Total Grams of Caviar Enjoyed: 160

Total Meals ordered & completed without speaking a lick of English: 8-10

Moscow Day 7

Musings, thoughts, pro tips forthcoming:

- I finally had a good night's sleep. Why I wasn't wearing my sleep mask before now is just me being stupid and stubborn. I went to bed before midnight and woke up a little after 7.

- I really love the Moscow Metro. I've not had to wait more than 2 minutes for a train. By far the most efficient train system I have had the pleasure of using. And I've been to Zürich.

- So, Russian was officially the first foreign language I tried to learn. I took 4 years in high school. I've identified one of my new issues: since then I've tried to learn German, French, and Spanish (amongst others). Those languages? Use "the" and "a." Russian? Not an article to be found.

Examples:

A glass of wine, please:

French: Un verre de vin, s'il vous plaît

German: Ein Glas Wein, bitte

Spanish: Una copa de vino, por favor

По русски: Бокал вина, пожалуйста

That literally translates to "glass wine, please"

My brain wants to add a non-existent a or the when I'm speaking. It's making me slow.

- I kinda want a fur.

- I'm somehow suddenly okay with crowds? It's a madhouse in central Moscow. Getting in to the train station by my hotel took a good 5 minutes. And I wasn't bothered at all.

- I am going to the ballet tomorrow. Not the Bolshoi, but the Concierge was ecstatic about me going to this particular ballet. And it took an hour to book as i tried to get my bank to approve the purchase. I might also try to see a "plastic ballet" in the Basmanny district. (Which is my favorite district)

- I'm definitely coming back to Moscow.

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