Between Réunion and Nosy Bé (page 2 of 4)

It keeps going down and down. We’re starting to get a little worried about the way back…

Finally, we reach the lakes… You can sometimes spot crocodiles there…



Théo’s actively looking for them, but no luck…



On the other hand, we do come across a variety of grass snakes pretty often… We’ll see two of them along the way…



A sacred altar made of a big rock with a large white seashell on top… Once a year, during a ceremony, people visit it to ensure optimal plant fertility…



A flower that we’re told is clitoral (😅)



The trail through the bush continues over a suspension bridge…



We come across another type of snake, perfectly adapted to the color of the leaves…

We finally see the famous pacou that goes "whoosh." It was a mystery throughout my African childhood.

The climb back up is tough; the atmosphere is stifling, and I feel like I’m dying. I’m so drenched in sweat that I look like I’ve fallen into a river.



We finally reach the summit of the mountain. There, it’s a surprise—half the town seems to have gathered up here. Clearly, watching the sunset is a highly popular activity! For us, though, it’s more about people-watching than admiring the stunning orange reflections the sun paints across the clouds!



The crowd is diverse—people of all backgrounds are here. Even on the platform, there’s a family of chickens, representing their species in a kind of quiet reverence, almost like a religious ceremony. A peaceful, tranquil atmosphere. Let the sunshine… uh… go?





That evening, we try something new: walking a few hundred meters along the beach in the dim moonlight (it’s really pretty—shhhhhhh, shhhhhhhhh, woof woof (yes, there are dogs)). We check out Jazzy Beach, a brand-new restaurant playing old bebop jazz, run by an Italian. The vibe there is amazing! Everyone comes up to talk to us like we’re old friends! We have a nice South African Merlot, always served chilled, and a Zébu Stroganoff with a little dish of chili. You. Die. They have restaurants here—can you believe it?! It’s absolutely delicious!

Monday, October 7, 2019

Today is the second highlight of the trip: Lokobé Reserve.

As we decided a few days ago, we’re traveling with Théo. I had another moment of hesitation this morning when Dom read me the hotel brochure, which strongly advised guests not to go on expeditions with small, improvised tour operators. They don’t have insurance, and if something goes wrong, it can quickly turn into a nightmare, we’re warned. But then, seeing a group of 12 French people heading to the same reserve, I imagined trekking through the bush with folks who’d drone on about their professional success, their kids’ achievements, the disaster of the Yellow Vests, veils, burkinis, surrogacy, pension reforms, unemployed people living in the Bahamas... blablabla... All that tired old chatter... Everything we’re trying to escape! In short, Théo is the best!! We set off in an old, clunky jalopy—no AC, just windows down (you can’t close them anyway). But it’s fine, I take the opportunity to snap some photos on the go!

We arrive in the capital, Hell-Ville—it’s teeming with people, absolutely chaotic, a total madhouse!



On the power lines, huge African spiders have made themselves at home—so creepy!



Like in all poorer countries, gambling is in full swing here.



We arrive near the massive central market. We’re supposed to buy lunch there, but we’ve already told Théo we’ll skip the meal—though we’re still up for exploring this place, which is so representative of local life.

We drive another twenty or so kilometers... On the road, magical Théodore spots a chameleon hiding in the bushes!



We reach a fishing village that’s the starting point for the marine reserve. Here, it’s become an industry—selling trinkets, tablecloths, handicrafts, and offering services for rent. As expected, we get a rudimentary pirogue of doom. We settle in, and no more master-slave dynamic—everyone’s paddling!



It takes about half an hour, just enough time to feel a huge sense of relief when the workout stops!



And we’re off!



It’s about to get pretty athletic again! We walk miles under a scorching sun that day. It goes up, down, up again—steep as hell—slippery, and you’ve gotta hold onto branches!

Like at Passot, the young guide is a gem, a well of knowledge...

Along the way, we spot a beautiful boa basking in the sun on a high branch.

We reach the edge of a small river. The guide bends down near a kind of bamboo and points something out. "Do you see it?" For us, he’s acting a bit crazy. He picks up a small leaf and seems to scratch the reed stem. Annoyed, the animal turns black and now stands out clearly on the leaf. It’s the world’s smallest chameleon!



Suddenly, I see Dom freaking out—she’s scratching frantically. "I—I’m under attack by mosquitoes!" "We’ve got to leave!" We reluctantly follow. Later, we’ll see from the insane number of bites developing on her legs that her reaction wasn’t exaggerated at all!

Later, the guide suggests we take a break on some big rocks. Playfully, he asks, "Don’t you see anything there?" Same story—question marks flying. He points out a stunning mossy leaf-tailed gecko. It’s taken on the exact color of the tree it’s perched on. You really have to focus to spot it, even when it’s right in front of your nose!

Then, a tiny frog...



In short, a little slice of paradise...



We reach a small waterfall where we can take a dip. Dom doesn’t need any convincing—she loves it!



Just a little further down, another natural pool—this one deeper. And splash!

Hi Jean-Luc, still here to read about your adventures. Your travel journal is getting more and more exciting 😎 !

Hi Catherine, I’m so glad you’re enjoying the walk. It’s really encouraging to keep going... Let's go! 😉

Then it’s the return trip.

The world’s smallest lizard.



A quick dip in the sea to cool off… And off we go! Row! Row!



Then the road to Hell-Ville, Dar es Salaam… Back home.

We’re having dinner again at our Italian friends’ place, at Jazz-Beach…

Tuesday, October 8, 2019

Today, we’re moving. The Vanila is fully booked for the next two nights, so I couldn’t cover the entire stay. But it’s a blessing in disguise—we love changing places. We took a taxi that dropped us off in the center of Dar es Salaam, then climbed a steep hill through a small village. That’s where we ended up. Let me tell you, it was worth seeing. It’s completely different from the Vanila—more quiet luxury here, with city comforts. The setting isn’t the peaceful countryside anymore, but a cosmopolitan city vibe. The suite is great!





Our new favorites are now luxury and opulence…

We settle in, pool time, relaxing until the inevitable sunset…



Later, we sneak through the dark mountain alleys back to Dar. We were expecting a wild night, but it turned out pretty quiet—none of the excesses we’d seen, like in Phuket. We ate at a restaurant warmly recommended by the *Guide du Routard*. Bad call! It was boring, and we waited over an hour for our food. Let them rot! We’ll never be back!

Wednesday, October 9, 2019



Moussa picks us up at 8:30 AM for the magical mystery tour… The drive is a chance to soak up a bit more of the island’s vibe. Discreetly, through the open window, I lazily snap away with my camera. At this speed, the results are mostly hit-or-miss—plus, the subject is very often totally uninteresting—but these are snapshots of the island in 2019. There’s something sentimental about them, a pleasure to look back on later… Come on, hop in with us in Moussa’s splendid (ahem) sedan!



You’ll see, it’s a non-stop spectacle!







We arrive in Hell-Ville. The town of the 4Ls—those rugged cars with their basic mechanics, always fixable, that outlast our electronics-packed sedans by miles…

Our driver drops us off here. He’ll wait for us at the roundabout at the end of the avenue—we’re going for a stroll, especially to the market. Dominique is haggling hard for vanilla. It comes from here, it comes from Madagascar.



Hell-Ville, as the name suggests, is also home to terrifying spiders that have set up colonies on the power lines. When you walk underneath, they drop onto your shoulder. It’s just a matter of minutes then… The streets are littered with fresh skeletons.

You know us—we wouldn’t have missed the cemetery for anything!





A bit of a disappointing visit compared to the promises of the overview… At times, it’s even total chaos.



Next, we visit the port… Filled with *boutres* (what’s that?)





We continue north afterward.



We arrive at a private park next to a ylang-ylang distillery. The little park is home to lots of small animals and plants… Okay, it’s not the wild, you know—it’s more like a small cageless zoo.

Used to humans, the lemurs are like kittens that come to purr on our shoulders.



Lemurland! There are even centuries-old tortoises! And crocodiles!



It’s nice—it’s still a little piece of nature. A place where animals are protected from human madness.



Next stop: the sacred tree! It’s under the care of a small traditional village.



It’s always the same story—an Indian planted an Indonesian species there. The plant went wild in every direction, perfectly adapted to the ecosystem. People saw the hand of some spirit in it, so they come to consult it, make wishes, and leave thank-you gifts. Someone even left coins in a dish. Money! A spirit! Oh my Lord, is it gonna buy a hair straightener? Well, there are also cow horns.



You can’t deny the place has a real air of mystery.

The world of the strange… We even came across a golden lizard!

Next stop, a ghost village (yeah, man, it’s full of surprises!), Marodoka. It used to be a busy trading post for merchant sailors from Zanzibar and India in the 19th century… Then the route lost its importance. - Why didn’t the current residents use these solid houses to live in? They looked spacious and comfortable! - … ????... I don’t know… It’s just not their thing, that’s all.

Feeling thirsty, we head to a bar that’s really into covering the place in a lovely shade of green…

The mangroves in the north of the island…



Then back home… At Moussa’s unhurried pace, that made for a full day!





Thanks François, it’s really beautiful—we really needed this!

Relaxing evening… I settle on the terrace, sort through the photos… When it’s time for dinner, I move my mess to the bedroom—safer that way. On the way, the camera, which was sitting on the laptop, takes a nasty fall. At first, it won’t turn on, then it does, but the lens makes weird *clack clack* noises. Finally, it extends, but the shutter only opens about 10%. Total disaster! This old companion, so handy, lightweight, easy to slip into a pants pocket, and yet with a 24x zoom… I’m devastated. Dom sympathizes. - You can just buy a new one, right? - …Leave me alone! And then, suddenly—go figure—it starts working again… Completely normally… You got any idea why?

We head into town to find the right restaurant…



We try the one offering lobster at the best price, right by the sea. They gave us a chilly welcome yesterday, but their menu is *so* tempting… Jackpot! It was actually good *and* cheap! It *does* exist!

Thursday, October 10, 2019 Nosy Be - Saint-Gilles-les-Bains

We were ready, on the starting blocks—Moussa was supposed to pick us up at the villa at 9 a.m., and then boom, an SMS from Air Austral: "Stop everything, folks, we’ve changed our plans. You’ll leave 3 hours and 10 minutes later." Big upheaval, but everything worked out—they offered us drinks and sandwiches. We took off from Nosy Bé at 3:05 p.m. instead of 11:55 a.m., landing in Saint-Pierre, Réunion, at 5:40 p.m.

Hertz, GPS, we arrive at L’Archipel. The disappointment is crushing. I can’t remember how I let myself get talked into renting in this awful place—a sort of meringue cake plopped in the middle of an industrial zone. It’s full of conventions, and you see a pretty girl in a leather suit taking photos of the graffiti the boss drew on his flip chart. Everything we came to escape catches up with us. For a moment, we’re ready to eat at the nearby pizzeria before finding the strength to leave, typing "restaurant Saint-Gilles" into our GPS. We end up at "Chez nous," a restaurant run by a lovely couple who cheered us up after that depressing arrival. The young man gave us a book of photos about the island’s hikes, we ate pretty well, got a free homemade rum punch, smiles, and winks. We’ll be back!

Friday, October 11, 2019 Saint-Gilles-les-Bains

Last night, Dominique mentioned feeling completely exhausted. This morning, after what should’ve been a good night’s sleep, she still doesn’t feel better. There’s that. And then there’s... I’ll try to put it nicely: our "liquid mornings." Plus the incredible damage the *Mokafohys* did to almost her entire body. The what now?



This nasty thing transmits protozoa, filariae, but mostly viruses to humans and animals. The pharmacist we consulted was clear: we need to see a doctor. So we end up in a tiny, overheated waiting room with a woman guzzling her intellect with some trashy rag about the elegant Sarkozys suffering at the hands of nitpicky, politicized judges, and a kid writhing in pain, moaning, covering his head with a cloth—seems like he’s really suffering.





Dom regained some energy with all that (antibiotics, anti-...). Off to the mountains!

We start at the village of Sans Souci to walk along the Mafate cirque via the *Canalisation des Orangers*. It all begins at a famous red water tank. From there, a dirt trail starts...



It starts steep. It quickly gets really tough...



We tackle the full 650-meter elevation gain in one go!



We stop often, exhausted. The last little house in Sans-Souci (where it’s better to live than in the neighboring village called "Malheur"—"Misfortune") marks the start of the walk. Yeah, all that climbing was free, and we haven’t even really started yet!

The official start of the trail is marked by a classic ONF sign. And also by a few mystical curiosities you’ll come across now and then along the way… Right away, the view is breathtaking! In every sense of the word, since the cliff is dizzying...





The good news is that from there, for 10 kilometers, it’s flat. All you have to do is soak in the stunning scenery and enchanting nature! *Vale la pena!*

We arrive under the delicate "Ilet Flamand" waterfall, our target—still 7.5 kilometers to go! We run into a few critters along the way.



Some little birds.



The scene is authentic: Dom: - What do you think that cable is? A weird fishing line crosses the path we’re walking on. I try the pitch. It really does sound like a fishing line. We make it vibrate like a nylon guitar string. - Watch out!



Just so you know—and I’m sure you’ll be proud—your mom hiked 4.5 kilometers with a huge bottle of Orangina that someone stuck in a cactus back in the 70s. Some people go to great lengths to reach paradise, but once they get there and see the view, it’s like, "After me, the flood!" That capitalist mentality!



We head to the coast to grab a beer. Our two bottles of water were definitely not enough to quench our thirst!

I’ve been following your travel journal with interest, especially since Madagascar doesn’t often get trip reports. Thank you for putting in the effort.

However, I don’t understand some of your remarks—they come off as really aggressive and extreme. You don’t like tourists who prefer group excursions, okay. But then you say they use the trips to brag about their social success?! Seriously? You must not have done many of those yourself... usually, you just listen to the guide’s explanations.

You don’t like a certain category of hotels, that’s your right, but why exaggerate? And now capitalism is to blame for rudeness...

I’ve never littered, and I respect the places and people in the countries I visit.

Personally, I like comfort, even when traveling. When I was younger, I couldn’t afford it, so I did without... but that doesn’t stop me from appreciating travel journals from real backpackers who set off on adventures. An open mind and a little kindness go a long way in human relationships, don’t you think? Unless this is some kind of humor I’m missing, your extreme comments really bother me—especially on this forum, which is meant to be friendly.

I’m truly sorry if my comments upset you. They’re just how I feel—raw and unfiltered, as I’ve said before. Maybe (probably) they’re the ramblings of an old grump... I’m saying this without any aggression, I don’t hold anything against you, but—would it be so hard to just ignore my travel journal, think to yourself, "Wow, what a grumpy old reactionary (or whatever)"? Then move on to something else? People are different. I really enjoy expressing my feelings and impressions, even if they’re not always kind. When you travel, you’re bombarded with all sorts of sensations, sometimes conflicting ones. I share them—that’s just me. It’s not a child’s essay, it’s not a Walt Disney script. Just ignore me. It’s not that difficult...

You're right, Jean Luc—I could have just stopped following you; that was actually my first thought. But I'm older than you, and I find that individualism and extreme positions are becoming more and more common and vocal, which worries me. Plus, indifference just isn’t really my thing.

It’s this concern that motivated me. And I think filters are often necessary—they improve a lot of things.

But that’s just my opinion 😊

Aside from those three comments, your travel journal is great.

Catherine, thanks for this "calming" reply. I’ll avoid turning this travel journal into a heated debate, but I really want to emphasize that the words "individualistic" and "indifference" don’t describe me at all! Still, I’m sure you’ll understand that I won’t dive into a full argument here—after all, that’s way off-topic for this forum. 😉