madagascar 2.0

It was my second time to the world’s fourth-largest island, and I was stunned to look back and realize that I had never written about my first trip there in 2008 – for shame! My take-away memory from that trip, though, was how REALLY rural Madagascar is – I was mostly in the northeastern coastal region, canvassing remote communities by day and sleeping in a thatched-roof bungalow on the beach at night. At one point we even had to cross a flooded river on a makeshift footbridge while our Landcruiser and driver (literally) floated across. Crazy!

Don't slip off the foot bridge!

It was a great experience, and while I was excited to go back, this would be a relatively short trip, especially considering the 16-hour flight involved in getting there. My work doing strategic advocacy planning and training was all in the capital city, Antananarivo, situated near the geographic center of the island. But amazingly, we wrapped up early and I had 36 free hours to do what all visitors to Madagascar must do -- see some lemurs!

I hired a driver and we headed due east, toward Andasibe, with a quick detour to Ambohimanga, a UNESCO World Heritage Site and former home to some of Madagascar’s must powerful rulers. The name literally means “blue hill” in the Malagasy language, because it apparently looks blue on the horizon as the sun sets (much like my beloved Blue Ridge Mountains, named for the same reason!) Madagascar’s a big island full of big words, with syllables strung together based on their meaning, like King Andrianampoinimerina, who once lived on the “blue hill” and whose hysterically-long name is typical of Malagasy monikers of any heritage or class. 

Rice fields covered the landscape

The rolling landscape of the high plateau transformed as we drove, from urban, traffic-jammed congestion to lush rice patties worked almost entirely by hand and small pastures of grazing zebu, a cow relative and the islanders’ primary meat source. Strangely, we also passed teams of cyclists, decked out in their multicolored gear and straining up the winding, well-paved roadways. Without fail, though, these teams of ambitiously athletic locals would be followed closely by a dusty farmer on a rickety, rusty one-speed bike, toting vegetables to sell in the next town. (The juxtapositions of daily life in developing countries never cease to make me smile, shake my head, or both.)

Lemur on my head!!

I was camera-less, if you can believe it, but had traveled there with no free time in my schedule. But as the saying goes, “The best camera is the one you have with you,” so I did what I could with my aging iPhone and tried (mostly unsuccessfully) to capture a few shots. 

After a few hours, we pulled in at the infamous Lemur Island – infamous because much to the chagrin of animal purists, the keepers of this cage-less habitat have tamed the little critters, while allowing them to run free on their own tiny islands. (It’s amazing what plying creatures of any kind with food will do to increase their friendliness.) 

So, I set out with my guide in a blue canoe for a tour, and within moments we met our first lemurs, who came swinging through the trees toward us as docked our boat. Using me as a tree, they clamored to reach the guide, and his pocket full of bananas. The brown lemurs snorted frantically like little piglets, which was honestly a bit unsettling since they were sitting on my head and shoulders (literally!)  

  

It was the familiar ring-tailed lemurs that won my heart, though. They bounced like kangaroos to greet us then perched on my shoulder with ease, cooing like a baby. Their soft, thick fur reminded me of a fluffy dog, and their tiny five-fingered hands were completely human-like, but padded like paws. When they climbed into the canoe, I momentarily took it as a sign that the cute little critters wanted to come home with me.

Each lemur species is unique – they all look and sound different, have unique eating habits and ways of interacting. In all, I saw six species during my quick excursion, including the elusive mouse lemur that I caught a glimpse of on a nighttime forest trek (again with a guide, of course). It was truly a brief adventure I'll never forget! 

Less than 24 hours later, somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, I giggled with delight as I flipped through the phone-quality pictures of my furry Madagascar friends and couldn't help but wonder, "Who really needs a fancy camera anyway??"