Mora Mora in Madagascar Part I

Mora mora means slowly slowly in Malagasy and that's exactly what we did when we got to Madagascar we moved slowwwly. If it wasn't for our driver the first week I doubt we would have left the cushy confines of my buddy Aaron's abode. He's working for USAID in Madagascar and was the main, if not best, reason we decided to detour our trip down there for a month. Aaron was our host, our guide, our interpreter, our problem solver, our DJ, our party planner, our financial consultant, our comic and our go to guy for everything. I called him Sugar Daddy or Daddy for short because he took care us almost as well as my Pops with some of the same stupidly funny jokes Dinny used to tell.

What struck me first about Madagascar was the colors. Flying over the ocean from Mauritius I couldn't get over how blue the sky was. I couldn't tell where the sky began and the ocean ended. As we descended upon Antananarivo I could see the bright green terraces of the rice paddies flowing down the valleys like a series of small waterfalls. The earth was a rich adobe red that made the sky that much more blue and bleached the clouds a blinding white. We've managed to time our travels, for good or bad, during the rainy seasons of most countries which at times makes travel interesting and hairy but the bonus comes from the landscape bursting alive with greens of every shade. There's something about being in a country where it's in it's season of rebirth, there's an energy that's unmistakable. People hustling about to get their crops planted or weeded. Matt and I both marveled at the lavender blossoms of the Jacaranda trees that dotted the hillsides and city streets of Antananarivo or as the locals call it Tana.

Tana has an architecture that is unique yet somewhat familiar. The two-story rectangular houses with their columned porches and balconies remind me of the wild west saloons only instead of wood they are constructed from bricks made from the deep red soil and age to a lovely burnt orange color. The rolling hills of Tana reminds me of my beloved San Francisco. Climbing up and winding around steep one-way streets was just like driving around my old neighborhood and at times I found myself believing I had woken up from this "travel dream" and was home. What gives Tana some character is the cars. Like Cuba's love for old American classic cars, Tana has brought back to life the Citreons and Renaults of old and splashed them in vanilla to pay homage to the plant and the bean that is the pride and main export of the island.

My friend Aaron said he gauges a country's wealth, or lack there of, on the number of people who wear shoes and Madagascar is a country where nearly half the people walk barefoot even in the capital. Like a nervous tick or a bad habit I wasn't aware of the lack of shoes until it was pointed out to me. What I first noticed about the Malagasy people was the pride in which they carried themselves, with or without shoes. Older men wear second-hand three piece suits with straw hats, a classiness that is undeniable.

Our first real excursion away from Tana was to Andasibe National Park to see the Indri lemurs. We made a pit stop along the way at a small chameleon park at got to see and feel chameleons and lemurs up close and personal. A brown lemur even jumped on Matt's back and marked his wet territory there. We saw over a hundred chameleons in every shade of color imaginable. At 5:30 am we were awoken from our slumber by the haunting song of the Indri lemur. Their call can be heard miles away.

Madagascar has a well run National Park system. At the visitors center they typically have interactive displays and mandatory guides are on hand to lead you through the park. The only draw back to the system is that you have to pay the guide by the hour and once your time is up you don't get the leisure to walk around at your own pace. Having a guide not only helps the local economy but they have keen eyes and ears when it comes to spotting the sometimes elusive lemurs. We marched behind our guide through the old growth forest sometimes skirting off the path and saw several families of the white Indri lemurs and a family of brown lemurs.

One day cruising through one of the local street markets of Tana Matt and I stumbled upon some live turkeys. We were infected by the idea of having live turkeys as Thanksgiving was rapidly approaching. We consulted Aaron and before we had time to really think it out we were the proud parents of two turkeys lovingly named Leftovers and Istanbul. When we brought Lefty and Stan home we realized we didn't know the first thing about caring for a bird let alone keeping them alive for a week before Thanksgiving. Aarons' maid advised us to clip the wings of the turkeys to prohibit them from flying away. We no sooner cleaned up the cut feathers from the deck before Lefty was trying with all his might to fly the proverbial coop.

We tied one leg of each bird up to a fence, supplied them with some corn and water and hoped they would survive. Lefty ate everything in sight while Stan went on a hunger strike for the week. I have to admit that I looked forward to waking up in the morning to see if they were alive. I even grew found of the soft gobble gobbling they would do. In fact whenever I hear a gobble I think about those silly birds. Matt did the dirty deed the day before Thanksgiving and I helped him defeather the birds. It's an experience I doubt either one of us will ever repeat but we feel a deeper sense of the respect for what it takes to put food on the table.