Yesterday, I took a train from Fianarantsoa to Manakara, my current location on the splendid Indian Ocean. I have a beautiful view of the picturesque ocean from my bungalow by the sea, fresh, cheap seafood at my disposal and enough sun to turn my pasty, white, flacid thighs into crispy brown drumsticks.
But it wasn't without arduous input by myself.
The train to get here took 12 ands a half hours. Even by my "first class seat," this was a rough time. The landscape and views from this ancient caboose were spectacular, but the lack of space to move, the overwhelming body odor and the vomit of my neighbor on my bag, I could have done without. Regardless, we arrived, five hours late, but Manakara so far has been quite lovely. Today, I am touring projects of the area with a solar distributer, Tough Stuff, and tomorrow night I have dinner by the port with a deputy director of Public Works in Madagascar. I intend to make the most of my free time by taking a pirogue, a canoe-ish water vehicle for those of you not in the African lingo, up the Pangalese canal. The enorlous canal will offer me obstacles to dodge such as crocodile, some small rapids and merchants harrassing you by throwing their wares (huge stacks of bananas or occasionally goats) onto your boat to try to make you pay by kindergarten "He is closer-it's not mine" rules.
But don't worry Mom, every moustached, bowl-cutted Frenchmen under 70 and over 50 seems to be doing it,
Steven
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