#ambalavao

[thesmilingkiwibird]

Voyage dans le Sud Ouest : Remontée de la Route Nationale 7, d’Ihosy à Antananarivo en passant par Ambalavao et ses ateliers de papier antemoro et de soie sauvage (Part. 1)

[nunoxaviermoreira]

Betsileo Reed Frog (Heterixalus betsileo) by Allan Hopkins Endemic to Madagascar. Anja Community Reserve, Ambalavao, Madagascar. https://flic.kr/p/PyYMuV

[mbfgomes]

Livro da geração de Jesus Cristo, filho de Davi, filho de Abraão. Abraão gerou a Isaque; e Isaque gerou a Jacó; e Jacó gerou a Judá e a…

https://www.bibliaonline.com.br/acf/mt/1

https://translate.google.com.br/?hl=pt-BR&tab=TT

Leve a palavra de Deus ao seu povo. Só Jesus salva. Traduza neste link acima (português para o malgaxe)

[foxapothecary-blog]

Sun drying handmade wildflower paper in #ambalavao #madagascar // we are still on our quest to transform our company to meet our moral standards- 100% made in Madagascar to support job security + fair wages, reduce rainforest impact, remediate biodiversity while still bringing you the highest quality, and the most attractive products

[maxoncoop]

A Pleasant Morning Spent Wining

After our successful trip into Andringitra, we decided to spend another night in Ambalavao so that we could enjoy some of the more tourist-y aspects of the town the next morning before heading back to Fianarantsoa. To our relief, Marcel had arranged with Les Bougainviilies to extend the discount for yet another night, so we indulged once more. The following day, we took a Tuk-Tuk a couple of kilometers to some random outpost on the side of the road, as advised by our guidebook. After getting the driver to agree to meet us back there in 2 hours, we tentatively made our way downt he path until we found what we were looking for: Soavita Winery. Even my friend Jannet, a native Californotian, agreed that the rolling hills blanketed in long grass reminded her of the orchards and vineyards back in California. After being pointed in the right direction by a kind older woman balancing a heavy-looking basket on her head, we passed through some old gates into what was clearly a vineyard. We continued cautiously past the barking dogs and deeper into the seemingly-abandoned land, wondering if we were at the right place. We were about to turn back and try the next orchard, when a young man motioned for us, without speaking, to follow him. We obeyed and he led us to a small group of women. After they chatted to each other in some rapid-fire Malagasy, an older woman with a radiant smile welcomed us to the winery, adjusting her blazer and smoothing out the wrinkles in her navy blue skirt. She gave us a short tour of the winery and from what I understood (she only spoke French and Malagasy), it was one of the oldest wineries in the country and made wine throughout the year from locally grown grapes, which was sold only within Madagascar. At the end, we enjoyed some delicious wine tasting (I didn’t even know peach wine was real, but I feel in love as soon as that bad boy touched my lips and tickled my tastebuds), bought a total of 15 bottles (I always hear wine makes a good gift), and dragged our prize back to the side of the road, where we met our faithful Tuk-Tuk driver and were brought back to Ambalavao. Look at THAT run-on sentence; I apologize for anyone who, unlike me, doesn’t speak like a savage and uses proper English grammar rules. I’m not used to communicating with anything that doesn’t have a tail these days, so my ability to speak has really gone off the deep end.

  Back in Ambalavao, we toured the Antaimoro Paper facilities near Les Bougainvillies. Madagascar is, apparently, famous for this special kind of paper, which is made from some kind of plant (once again the tour was in French, so I only absorbed bits and pieces), boiled to a pulp, mashed, dried, and this and that. The most interesting thing about the paper however is the different kinds of designs the artists will embed in the pulp before it dries. Flower petals and leaves are most commonly used to decorate the light paper and are arranged to make all sorts of patterns. It was interesting to see this simple yet artistic piece of Malagasy culture, and naturally I bought a couple hundred pounds of the stuff in the souvenir shop, also to shower as gifts to my suitors back at home.

  After all that, we made our way by taxi-brousse back to Fianarantsoa. There, we met up with most of the other volunteers and went out to a nice Malagasy restaurant for a delicious meal and several plates of french fries (sadly, they were out of milkshakes). Afterwards, filled and satisfied, we galumhped to a Karaoke Bar for a night of cuh-razy fun since 2 of the volunteers were leaving the next day. None of the songs were in English, but the rest of the volunteers still managed to coerce me to get on stage and dance wildly to some of the songs. It was properly humiliating, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it.

And thus, the next day, our vacation came to a close. We were welcomed back to Kianjavato’s star-spangled sky, the noxious fumes of the endearing outhouses, and, most importantly, the comfort of my own tent. I forget how much Madagascar has to offer me sometimes; I really enjoyed my week of travel and I know there are still dozens of places on the island I’d still like to visit. But for now, I’m happy to be back at KAFS, sweating like a warthog in labor while chasing lemurs through the dense vines and towering trees.

[escaporio]

End of Days by IAmNotunique