#mananjary

Fantango river in Mananjary, Madagascar

Antemoro woman with child from Mananjary, Madagascar

Looking back, I’m still not entirely sure if my day-trip to the seaside town of Mananjary was a dream or reality. The taxi-brousse ride took only 2 hours and, although there was a chicken pecking at my feet the entire time, it was infinitely more bearable and quicker than the drive back from Fianar. Stepping off the brousse and still having feeling in my legs was appreciated and definitely helped to set my mood for the city. The whole town just has the feel of a warm, laid-back summer day. The sounds of the waves can be heard throughout the entire town, which boasts small charming buildings and tall palm trees that rustle lazily in the salty breeze.

I traveled with Annie, another Varecia volunteer, and the two of us beelined it to Le Patio, a charming internet cafe where we met up with a couple of Peace Corps volunteers who were stationed in towns neighboring Kianjavato. After some nice chatter and a cold glass of Coke, I was happy to video chat with a few friends from home and respond to emails. After our access to the outside world, Annie and I headed to an empty cafe which sat just across the street from the edge of the beach.

There, I plunged into icy bliss with a bowl of Ylam ice cream, which is apparently a type of flower used for perfume, according to the waitress. However, my French isn’t as good as I like to think it is, so don’t quote me on that. Either way its subtley sweet taste was like a kiss from a Flower Goddess...or a Belossom (for any Pokemon fans out there). After making love to that refreshing bowl of ice cream, I had an intimate affair with a bowl of lasagna, the cheese oozing between the prongs of my fork and enticing my tastebuds. Oh man. My moans of pleasure probably would have really worried Annie if she wasn’t doing the same as she eyed her pizza like it was a previous lover from a distant land. The rest of the meal was too lustful to describe in detail.

Still hypnotized by the food, the two of us then moseyed to the beach and were delighted to find that we were escorted by a cute and friendly dog. We were weary at first seeing as most of the strays in Madagascar are dirty and aggressive, but this one stayed right by our side as we dipped our feet into the warm Indian Ocean and lost our minds in the ocean’s steady splashing and the soft sand’s warm embrace. After about an hour of enjoying the ocean’s welcome, we decided it was time to turn back and start looking for a brousse back to Kianjavato. Our escort awoke from his nap and trotted ahead of us to make sure the path back to the main road was free of any danger (like conniving seagulls). As we walked past Le Patio, their collared dog also joined us and we found ourselves being escorted by two adorably friendly dogs. They stayed with us the entire time, even as we waited in the brousse for over an hour. When the brousse finally departed, our furry sentinels followed it as it slowly drove out of the sandy streets until we turned onto the main road. Annie and I waved goodbye at them from the window. Despite the fact that the Malagasy in the brousse thought we were insane for saying bye to dogs, I fully expect those two to be waiting for me on the beach with a gallon of Ylam ice cream the next time I visit Mananjary, whether it be in my dreams or the material world.