pics of the day

details to come, but for now a couple vacation photos:

Sophie and I on our pirogue trip

this baobab is nicknamed after the kind of animal whose back it looks like i'm sitting on..

And I present to you..

the mayor of Manampatrana.

 

does he not bear resemblance to Barack Obama???

‘musical’ hilarities

I find it to be pretty funny that I have sung karaoke 3 times in the last 2 months in Madagascar, yet haven’t done in the US for a long time.  I do declare that a Karaoke night followed by dancing will be had at Diversions upon my return.  So far in Madagascar I’ve sang:  The Sign by Ace of Base, Dreamlover by Mariah Carey, Sunday Bloody Sunday by U2,  Wonderwall by Oasis, and Oops I Did it Again by Britney Spears.  (only Dreamlover and Oops were solo)

The other hilarious thing I’ve observed about popular music here is that it seems to be stuck during my junior high years.  I have heard more Shania Twain, Celine Dion, Mariah Carey, Boyz II Men, Backstreet Boys, and one hit wonders of the early to mid 90s here in the last 2 months than I’ve heard in the states since these songs were popular back home.  Like, I don’t even listen to the radio, but I’ve heard ‘I’ll Make Love to You’ by BIIM at least 4 times, ‘From This Moment’ by Shania Twain at least 8 times, and ‘My Heart Will Go On’ too many times.  It’s sort of hilarious, and almost comforting to hear these songs – always makes me giggle a little to myself.  

So, when I hear the Backstreet Boys, I think of both when I was 14 in Europe thinking I was cool because they weren’t quite popular back home yet, and hearing them ‘gulp’ 12 years later in Fianarantsoa, Madagascar while doing an internship for a master’s degree.  Weird.

Mid-Internship Reflections

Well, I’ve been here for nearly two and a half months, and I come home in about 2 months.  I think Madagascar has gotten as used to me as I have to it.  In retrospect, I really didn’t like my first few weeks (maybe even close to a month) here that much.  I always felt lost, didn’t know how to react to people shrieking ‘vazaha’ every other minute, didn’t have a social circle, and had a hard time not focusing on negatives like the pollution spewing from vans on my walk home and missing Patrick.  I realized this morning that people don’t bother me so much anymore.  There’s still the occasional vazaha, but not so often as it used to be.  In the Old City when I come home, there are often kinds crowded around tourists to get them to buy greeting cards and take pictures, but they let me pass right though with nothing more than a ’salama’.  Last week, a guy was walking next to me on my way home, which always makes me immdiately suspicious, weary that I’ll have to ignore yet another flirting attempt.  Instead, he said, “Excuse me, do you speak English?”.  I cautiously said yes, and he walked me all the way up to the Old City so that he could practice some English.  It was probably the first time talking to someone in the street has lead to a positive experience.  

Especially after being out in rural areas, and around people who don’t really speak French, my comfort threshold is definitely higher.  I’ve also thought a lot about how wasteful and materialistic we are back home.  Now, I’ve gone on about that many times before, but it has a bit more perspective now.  Every day I have one bucket of hot water with which to bathe.  And it’s plenty.  I don’t even always use it all, even when I wash my hair.  After this bucket bath, I feel refreshed, clean, and warm.  It doesn’t take 20 minutes standing under running water to get the same feeling!  

I don’t have a refridgerator, and therefore spend a lot of evenings having egg and ‘vache qui rit’ cheese sandwiches for dinner.  Being the lover of food that I am, I do miss all of the food options back home and how easy they are.  However, on the weekends when I got out for pizza and beer, I appreciate it SO much!  It’s a special treat that I recognize not everyone around can take advantage of.

As much of a coffee snob as I am, I make coffee most mornings by putting coffee grounds and boiling water in my teapot, and then filtering it through  a cloth filter with a handle (looks a little like a tiny butterfly net).  (Granted, I asked Gabe if he would get me a French press in Tana this week if he happens to see one, as I’ve unsuccessfully scoured the shops of Fianar for one), and it works fine!  

I don’t have a single pair of fancy stilettos, nice dresses, or a TV, and it’s all fine.  The sad part of this is that when I get back home, I’d imagine I’ll fall back into my wasteful shower habits, taking food, refridgerators, and running water for granted.  I will continue to accumulate things, and probably buy yet another pair of $50 jeans.  It seems to me that unless we’re willing to go all ‘Walden’, this kind of hypocrisy is nearly unavoidable.  I do hope that my time here will in the future at least remind me how lucky we are concerning resources available to us.

Another reflection that I almost continually go back and forth on is living life abroad.  It’s different, it’s exciting, it’s a challenge, and sometimes I think I’d like to join the foreign service and get posted all around the world every 2 years or so.  However, at the same time, it’s friggin tiring!  After every field visit, I feel mentally exhausted just from having paid such close attention to things I don’t always understand all day.  Everyday things become difficult, and then there’s the feeling of missing things about home so often.  (Although, mosts posts through the govt allow people to live pretty comparably to how they would in the states, and don’t always come with the level of immersion I’m growing accustomed to)  So, I’ll go ahead and admit it.  Strong, Independant, can handle any stressful situation Callista misses Patrick, her family, routines like going to the gym, and grocery stores.  

Overall, I’m having a great experience, and even the frustrations all seem to have lessons.  I’m gaining valuable experience working in a foreign and developing environment, as well as learning a bit about USAID.  I’m spending almost no money compared to what I’d be spending in France ($2 for lunch instead of like 10).  I’ve made many friends and acquaintances, and can’t go much of anywhere in town without running into someone I know.  (There’re also a lot of people who know my name that I have no idea who they are!  Which is weird…and embarrassing when I can’t place where I know someone from)  I’ve developed more of an appreciation for many things back home, especially when I talk to people in my own age group.  Xavier, an older man who sells snacks along the Old City street, has gotten to know me fairly well.  He always says hello when I walk down on my way to work, and goodbye and have good dreams as I climb back up in the evening.  (When he asks what’s new, I also tell him of travel plans etc, and he always asks when I’ll be back.  If anything ever happens to me, at least someone will notice I’m gone!)  He saw a book in my hand when I was on my way up the other day, and asked if I had any novels in French.  I did happen to bring the 3 Musketeers with me (in French), so he was absolutely thrilled when I let him borrow it (he really likes reading it turns out.).  I think of my book collection back home, containing books I haven’t even read yet, and wish I would have brought the whole damned thing here to share with him.

This has gotten pretty rambly, so I think I’ll wrap it up.  I have to say, there’s a lot I’m looking forward to coming home to.  That said, I’m going to try to make the most of the my remaining time here.  I have the trip to Ifaty with Sophie, a few more field visits next week, a possible trip to Tana for the election, and camping in Andringitra for Thanksgiving.  That should be plenty to keep me occupied and always also looking forward to something.  That is all for now.

Wait, I lied.  I will shamelessly admit that I’m missing being in the US leading up to the election.  Now, I realize that I’m always totally sick of it by the time it actually happens, but I miss the excitement, the frustrations, the bullshit, and the comedy.  I’ve been able to see one of the Tina Fey/Sarah Palin skits, and it made my heart pine for the hilarity of SNL, the Daily Show, and the Colbert Report as they mock these silly politicians who take themselves and the whole process far too seriously.  I also miss bitching about all of it.  Perhaps my favorite part of politics is the bitching – and the solidarity felt with others who are bitching about the same thing.  Luckily, Gabe and Karen also enjoy this, so that’s a consolation.  I think definitively that I will be Sarah Palin for Halloween.  I just need some bangs (long ones so they’ll blend it), a brightly colored sportcoat, a lot of hairspray, and some lipstick.  Unfortunately, as Gabe has pointed out, my speaking accent is already on the way to sounding like her, so if I just exaggerate the Northern MidWestness of it, I should be good to go.  Karen and the girls have some sort of toy gun I can use as a prop, and I’ve been toying with the idea of either a spiked dog collar (if I can even find anything like that) and a pig nose.  We’ll see how it goes.  

just an update

I am no longer at all surprised about changes to plans at work.  I was supposed to go to Ambalavao today until Wednesday with a field agent (and I was going to get to visit a lemur reserve in the process…), but the training that was happening there has now been moved to next week.  That means that I get to be in Fianar till Wednesday (which will be good, as I can get some work done before taking off).   Next week will be a little crazy though.  Since I have Colombus Day off, I have been planning for awhile on taking some sort of mini trip this weekend.  I had my heart set on going to Morondava to see the Avenue of the Baobabs (cliché, but I really wanted to see all of those trees!).  Gabe was originally possibly going to go with me, but it turns out he can’t escape his job for that long, as he took about a month off at the end of summer.  I was trying to decide whether or not to go alone, when Sophie agreed to go!  She works for Karen’s Old City project, and has been wanting a vacation for awhile.  When she asked Karen for the time off, Karen consented, but was not crazy about Sophie traveling to Morondava (Sophie is apparantly 4 months pregnant!).  It’s a 6 hour taxi-brousse ride to Antisirabe followed by an overnight 12-15 hour brousse ride West to Morondava.  The last 100k apparantly take like 5 hours – it’s a really bad road.  So, plans have morphed into a beach retreat along the Mozambique Channel in Ifaty, which is a small fishing village 27km North of Toliara.  This way, it’s an overnight brousse ride from Fianar to Tuliara, and then just an hour or 2 from there to Ifaty.  There are white beaches, pirogues, little beach bungalow hotels, and fresh seafood.  There is also a small spiny desert nature reserve within walking distance where there are some baobabs, so it will be a great trip.  Karen’s loaning us snorkeling gear as there is lots of safe, non wavy reef there.  Apparently there is good diving, especially for sharks if you go out further with SCUBA gear, but snorkeling will be free…  So, we’ll stay Thursday-Saturday nights, then spend the night in Toliara on Sunday so we can catch a very early taxi-brousse back home on Monday.  I am pretty excited!

On Tuesday-Wednesday I’ll be going to Ikongo for a field visit (taking the train, so maybe more derailment adventure!).  And, my trip to Ambalavao has now been pushed to next week Thursday-Friday (I might also stay Saturday just for fun, we’ll see).  

Also, I was somehow unsurprised to come back from buying bread yesterday to find Sophie washing a tortoise in the courtyard.  Sophie, Zöe (and their younger brother who just moved it) now have 2 tortoises.  One they will likely keep as a pet, but theoretically the other is for eating.  :(

 

tortoise getting a bath chez nous

 

 

 

what a clean, shiny, post-bath shell!

Pic of the day

 

 It rained a lot for a couple weeks, and I woke up to see this from my balcony a few weekends ago.  I’m glad I was up early enough to see it!

Farmer Summer (spring/winter?) Camp

Last week Thursday I took off on taxi-brousse to meet the field agents and Sidonie in the village of Ranomafana where there were conducting a 3 day farmer field training.  I got to the taxi-brousse and saw that a few peace corps volunteers I’ve met were in the same one heading to Ranomafana Natl Park for a few days.  Weird, to get places and recognize people.  The farmer field training was sort of like a 3 day summer camp for farmers in the area.  There were different groups led by a field agent, each focusing on different things.  There was a group for apiculture, pisciculture, tanety restoration, communication, and various vegetable planting.

 

construction of a traditional beehive

 I mostly got to walk around and watch what they were doing and take pictures.  None of the farmers spoke French, so I just followed Sidonie around.  Everybody ate meals together, which were cooked by farmers’ wives.  Breakfast was always a kind of rice porriage (I think with some sweetened condensed milk added) and a couple little pieces of meat to chew on, and lunch and dinner were both giant plates of rice (vary) accompanied by giant bowls of meat, broth, and vegetables (laoka).  

I was never really able to eat more than half...

Since the rice is all hand sifted/deshelled, you get a rock once in awhile.  I have to say that I’m entirely sick of rice and tough meat, but I was more than happy to have meals with everyone.  There were 8 of us from ERI, and somewhere around 20 Koloharena farmers, so there were big tables set up to accommodate everyone.  

We (the ERI crew) camped in a field.  

Camp

I was staying 2 nights, 3 days, and on the first night, we made ‘punch’ to have around the campfire.

Punch Malagasy

Toka gasy (what’s being poured out of the clear water bottle) is a very very strong rum made from sugar cane.  It was added to a mixture of melted chocolate and sweetened condensed milk.  It was pretty damned strong, so I didn’t have that much of it.

One of the stations at the training was teaching farmers how to make a sugarcane press.  The idea is to extract the pure cane juice to make sucre malgache, rather than making toka gasy out of it…then again, we drank toka gasy at campfire the first night, so I’m not sure what the pressure to avoid toka is.  (I think that by making sugar out of it instead, it means they don’t have to buy industrialized sugar, therefore helping food security?)  While they were making the press, André offered me a piece of sugarcane.  He was able to peel his with his teeth, but I wasn’t so successful…

 

I was too clumsy with me teeth to peel it...

 

 

the newly built sugarcane press

In the morning, Sidonie and I went for a long walk to get the day started, and we all bathed in the river, which wasn’t too cold.  The second day the idea was to let the farmers do mostly their own work, but to be available to them if they had any questions.  We ate a lot of bananas, and had some fresh caught freshwater shrimp whenever we had downtime before or after lunch.  

You can just pop them in your mouth and eat everything, but I peeled off their feelers and shell a bit first...

During one of our meals, Volo commented that I’m very adaptable and not scared of stuff.  He was impressed that I wasn’t scared of bathing in the river or eating shrimp (with shell, head, eyes etc).  My response was that the river was rapidly running, and therefore not dangerous (plus I didn’t go all the way in, more like wading),  and that tasting new foods was fun.  I guess a lot of vazahas that visit are scared that everything under the sun is going to make them sick because they’re in a developing country.  Just have to use a little common sense guys…

During some downtime while sitting in the shade, we saw a parrot drinking from a ravinala.  Ravinalas are called Travelor’s Palms because they store water in the sharp things near the bottom of the fronds.

The same species, this one was domesticated and hung out in front of the house where we ate. I let him play bite my finger, and his jaws are really strong even when he's playing...

After we packed up our tents and were just about ready to go, it was suggested that they should help me with the removal of my ‘puce’.  We were going to stop in the village of Ranomafana for a drink because one of them is leaving ERI next week, and they could help me when we stopped.  (we wound up just heading home.)  I figured that if we were going to get it out, I should get my first aide kit, which was in my backpack on top of the car.  So, I climbed up to get it out so that our driver wouldn’t have to get my whole pack down.  Everyone seemed to think it was absolutely hilarious that the vazaha woman was willing to climb up top like a baggage handler or something, as can be seen in this picture of them all gawking at me and laughing.  Volo got out my camera immediately to document this apparently hilarious occurrence.  

note everyone on the right watching me while laughing

I rode on one of the motorcycles till Ranomafana (only 5 or 6k), and then got in the car for the journey all the way back to Fianar.  (And driving through the preserved area on the way back we saw a couple lemurs – one right in the road who bounded into the trees as we approached)

On the way into Ranomafana

 

another little gecko friend

 

these water lilies seem to be pretty common

All together a very fun trip, as the group really likes to have fun together.  There was a lot of Malagasy that I just had to listen to and smile once in awhile to signal I wasn’t bored out of my mind, but they usually explained it to me here and there as we went along.  

Also, an update on the ‘puce’:

Gabe and I had dinner with Karen on Sunday night and her house guard got it out for me – all the Malagasys know how to do it.  He used a safety pin to cut the skin a little and tease it out.  There were in fact some eggs, which is totally gross.  I don’t know what would happen if you left it alone until they hatched…  

Now there’s a little hole in my foot, which promises to heal quickly.  I asked Karen what it really was, since due to language I couldn’t quite figure it out.  It’s a sand flea, so ‘puce’ actually does translate to the right word.  I probably picked it up somewhere between Tolongoina and Manampatrana last week – you only get them when you’re out in the bushes.