Between Réunion and Nosy Bé

Saturday, September 28, 2019

On the Orly-Saint-Denis flight, under the pretext that Air France had paired their delicious chicken with mushrooms meal with a little bottle of rum, Dom noticed that some passengers hadn’t even opened theirs. So he bribed a flight attendant to bring him the abandoned mini bottles! Needless to say, the guy slept like a baby!



Sunday, September 29, 2019 Saint-Pierre

A flawless journey (well, except for a minor distraction in the massive Hertz queue that led me to cut in front of a few young couples, who weren’t too happy about it—though I joked with the agent about it: *"It happens!"*). We ended up at Hôtel Le Battant des Lames in Saint-Pierre, a gorgeous combo of an infinity pool and the Indian Ocean. We rushed straight into the pool—after over ten hours of sitting on a plane, it felt *amazing*!



We didn’t waste any time—you know Dom—exploring the city on foot. It’s lovely: the seaside is well-developed, it’s tropical, but with the budget of a wealthy country.



Réunion is also famous for its killer sharks…



A Creole music group was playing at a seaside bar, so we settled in.



Night fell, and with it, swarms of insects suddenly invaded the city!



One of the few signs of the tropics here! Insects, geckos, and cockroaches...



Monday, September 30, 2019

Saint-Pierre



We were disappointed, of course! We could’ve gotten a photo of our *aura* and missed the chance by just a week! In tears, we decided to tackle the island’s most famous site.

Excursion to Piton de la Fournaise. The plan was to head to one of the nearby parking lots and take a relaxed stroll. But it quickly turned into… something else.

First, I realized the built-in GPS operates on a pretty basic algorithm—like the earliest models. If there’s a bumpy road that even the toughest Mitsubishi 4x4 struggles with, a path through a junkyard, or any shortcut to save a few meters, it’ll proudly suggest it. So instead of taking the main road—the royal route to the famous volcano—we ended up on charming little mountain roads…

We arrived at the foot of the mountain and parked in a designated lot after driving a 4x4 for a few kilometers on an unpaved, badly damaged road. There, a sign offered to climb the famous mountain for a round trip of about 6 hours covering just over 11 kilometers. We got caught up in the idea. It starts with a nearly vertical descent from the edge of the caldera. It’s a stone staircase. The faces of those coming back looked worried. It seemed so barren!





No sulfur smell, but lava flows that aren’t completely cooled, with the air shimmering around them, an unusually warm wind, and near these flows, strange crackling noises—like charcoal in a fireplace in the morning.



The climb wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. The last stretch was steeper, with every time you thought you spotted the summit, another hidden slope appeared behind it. I’d count a hundred steps, then stop to catch my breath. As usual, we were alone—absolutely no one around. Yet we’d started out as a group! Mysterious… There are two craters side by side. The walls are dizzying, and the edges of the crater look ready to break off. We didn’t linger—it was really nerve-wracking!



Up there, the ground seemed metallic, shiny, with the consistency of charcoal—light and crunching underfoot.



The descent wasn’t a relaxing stroll either—it was seriously treacherous. I was worried about my knees. Dom carried the backpack for this part.



Almost nothing grows here—it’s barren as can be! We rationed our 75 centiliters of water drop by drop!

Down there, we meet some people…



In front of us, the cliff to climb!



We return via the mountain path… Now a huge cloud has settled up there. We walk through the fog…



After that, we were shattered—we didn’t act too clever and even took the car to go for dinner (trade fish for Dom, pork chop for me, Côtes du Rhône… nothing exceptional).

Tuesday, October 1, 2019 Saint-Pierre – Nosy Bé

We wake up at 5 in the morning. Everyone warned us—the road between Saint-Pierre and Saint-Paul is a nightmare. By 7 AM, it’s guaranteed to be a total traffic jam. Don’t even try, it’s hopeless. With our timing, we get stopped twice, just for a few minutes, but it’s smooth sailing, and we arrive on time. Hertz, check-in, the Air Austral flight is perfect, everything’s on schedule, and we land at our destination at 11:10 AM local time. But we’re not on Réunion anymore—this is Africa. Four forms to fill out, your passport gets passed around to a bunch of strangers who ask for it, lines to buy the visa (31 € per person), lines for passport control. And that’s where it starts. We clearly see, under the watchful eyes of his colleagues, the last officer in the chain (there are three) asking for money from the people he’s questioning. The pale, nervous tourists dig into their pockets to hand over a few euros. When it’s my turn, the guy mutters in a flat voice, "A tip, please," and I dare to say, "Sorry, I don’t have any cash on me," which leaves him without a response. Without showing any emotion, he waves me off. Dominique goes through without handing anything over either. The luggage becomes the subject of a fierce deal. Guys pile them up, and when you ask for yours, underlings show up with carts. I grab my two suitcases without asking anyone and head for the exit, where the second wave of assault happens. It’s chaos! Everyone wants to drive us. A more resourceful guy calls the hotel that promised to handle the transfer and hands me a woman who confirms they’ll cover the taxi fare. We let ourselves be taken, not too sure—nothing indicates that the female voice really belongs to a hotel receptionist. To be sure, I turn on my phone’s GPS and realize our driver isn’t heading toward the hotel at all. I tell him so. He has a calming response, his tone is relaxed, he stops to let us smell an ylang-ylang flower, and a more peaceful atmosphere sets in. I’d later find out that, oddly, Google Maps had our hotel completely wrong, placing it on the south side of the island, near Hell-Ville, when we were actually in the west-central area! My worries were justified!



The Vanila is as beautiful as promised. It’s a high-end service, no doubt, but the staff is incompetent.



Everything is designed to keep clients in their hands. The bottle of water is charged at the price of a TV, and with the heat, it adds up fast! When I talk about the supermarket with the reception girls, it’s pouts and eye-rolls! There’s nothing! The in-house excursions are three times more expensive than what I’d seen on forums! According to them, there are no alternatives! The little tourism Thatchers are definitive. Don’t go out, or you’ll regret it!

For us, that’s unacceptable! We quickly discover the use of the tuk-tuk. It’s a kind of scooter with a cabin and a comfy back seat, often with a killer stereo playing excellent local rumba. It’s often awesome! They’re like wasps—everywhere. You step out of the hotel, stand by the road, and a few minutes later… vroom vroom… one passes by!





We’re not trapped—we feel much freer than in a car! We see more of this country with its resolutely African charm. Everyone told me, "You’ll see, it’s very poor," but I don’t see it that way at all! It’s Black Africa, that’s just how it is—mud houses, minimal hygiene, a general laid-back vibe paired with an obvious joy for life!

We get dropped off at Dar es Salam, about twenty minutes from the hotel, in the south. We come back with as many sparkling waters as we can carry. Our fridge is overloaded, and there’s still some left! That’s a good start!

I’m making a few calls to organize some trips—things are looking promising!



We’re checking out the hotel grill. It’s absolutely amazing! I had a zebu tournedos that’ll stay in our memories, paired with a South African Cabernet Sauvignon. You can’t ask for more—South Africa is right next door!



Wednesday, October 2, 2019

Nosy Bé

The day in pictures...

At breakfast by the water in the morning, two surprise guests. They’re super friendly and busy gobbling up flies...



It’s the island of lizards—there are tons of them, all kinds, all sizes!



Pool time (a must!). The infinity pool is packed, so we take the modest ones that others are avoiding. The sea is just ten steps away...



The garden is lush!





The hotel is gorgeous—everything is made of exotic wood and thatched roofs, with African decor that’s spot-on.



Alright, off to town! It’s a 20-minute tuk-tuk ride—10,000 Ariary, 2.5 €.



The real old-school African city! But with some surprising works of art...

Like that famous broken-eared fetish (!)



Lots of girls paint their faces. Often a pink foundation to, they say, protect themselves from the sun, or else drawings, flowers, symbols, because it’s pretty—and indeed, it’s really quite lovely sometimes.



Our steps lead us to a market, always a delicious moment!



Back home, the sun is setting—it’s not even 6 PM.



We have dinner at the grill we’ve definitely adopted!



Thursday, October 3, 2019 Nosy Bé

We did the Nosy Komba + Nosy Tanikely trip. Théodore, our “operator,” picks us up in a tuk-tuk. On the beach, it’s Africa—a swarm of hustlers trying to sell you their stuff. We pick out our masks and snorkels, plus flippers. Then there’s a really long wait on the beach, but the lively scene is enough to keep us happily distracted. We’ve got a big, powerful boat, and there are still 18 of us on board—some Chinese, some Italians.

- Isn’t that a *boutre*? 🤔 - No idea 🤷‍♀️. - Ask the guide! - Seriously, do you think he knows the word *boutre*? Dominique calls out to him: - What are those boats called? - Those are *boutres*, ma’am 😊 She turns to me: - Call him ham! I’m mortified 😳

Our boat’s a speedster! Along the way, we spot a few turtles 🐢. We arrive at Nosy Komba, which means "Lemur Island." And sure enough, they’re everywhere! When the locals realized how much tourists with deep pockets adored these cute, fluffy creatures, they struck a deal: the friendly marsupials put on a show, hopping from head to head through the crowd, while women and kids set up stalls full of irresistible souvenirs along the route. A win-win combo that delights everyone!



The local specialty? Tablecloths! Hand-sewn—you see the girls working on old Singer machines, the black ones with gold trim, powered by a foot pedal. The results are often stunning! They’re masters of *Richelieu* stitching. They call it *Réssélé*. It’s top-quality natural cotton!



We couldn’t resist—we’re bringing one home for the holidays!



Darwinism explained to kids…



In our group, there’s a bunch of Chinese travelers. One of the girls studied in Angers for a few years and speaks great French. We hit it off! She works for a company that develops AI software to power tomorrow’s self-driving cars. She tells me they’ve got 35 test cars on the road, and a driver can step in anytime. According to her, they’ve never had to brake or change the route. For her, the tech is full of promise! It’s clear China’s going to dominate the future tech world!



Dominique’s fearless—she lets a little boa wrap around her!



Chameleons, super common in the area, are another big attraction!

Thanks Jean-Luc for this travel journal 😊. At first, I was a bit surprised by the fast-paced start of the story and the "very natural" writing style, but I ended up enjoying the read 😄. Your wife Nana is amazing. Don’t worry, you’re being read, but most readers don’t speak up—except in travel journals about the United States 😆

Thanks Catherine, for your encouragement. It was truly a trip worthy of the name—I really wanted to talk about it, "no filter," just like I would’ve told friends over a good bottle at the table. I’m obviously thrilled that someone showed interest in this little adventure on the other side of the world!

- Don’t you have this dress in size 4? I have a feeling my granddaughter’s going to inherit one of these famous embroideries…



The homemade guitar is a tradition here. Nobody would even think of buying one in a store! The prices are completely crazy compared to their standard of living. The funniest part is that this super metallic sound works really well in their rumba bands!



It’s everywhere! This is real marquetry—they’ll be in the attic very soon!



We then head to Nosy Tanikely, a tiny island surrounded by coral, perfect for snorkeling. We give it a try—the coral is (still) in good shape, and it’s teeming with little fish in all colors, but I don’t linger too long. The sun’s really strong today. Gotta be careful.



I spot a sign announcing a lighthouse and the presence of giant bats… Dom and I try to track some down in this little forest full of critters…



We’ll find out later that it’s over—there were some, but not anymore…

Thanks for this story—I come back to it regularly to soak it all in! A window into other worlds... stunning!

Hi there, Thanks for taking the time to write such an enticing travel story. Having taken a cruise in these waters back in 2017, we’re rediscovering your annotated photos with pleasure and nostalgia. We’re on the edge of our seats! More, more.....

We were just chilling when our sweaty guide comes running up: - They’ve been looking for you everywhere, we’ve got to leave! - !!!!! - It’s three o’clock! We’d heard “you’ve got three hours” when we were supposed to hear “until” between “got” and “three”… Time to head back already. This first experience was meant to help us assess Théodore for the future. We talk it over. We’re pretty disappointed. The meal was mostly the head and tail of a big fish with rice, a few tiny skewers, and the drink was a bottle of water we’d brought that morning, now turned into lukewarm liquid under the sun… We decide to look elsewhere. During the twenty-minute tuk-tuk ride back, I stuck to my “we’ll think about it and call you” stance while he kept talking about the lousy season, extreme scarcity, and no money coming in… We stayed firm, and his sadness was obvious. He was really counting on a deal with us…

That evening, we finally decide to try the hotel restaurant’s “buffet.” For me, it’s “meh,” but Dom is literally loving it! A local music group sets up. The singer’s first move is to place a hat right in front to collect money. Dom and I are sitting at the table right next to them and ignore them pointedly. They won’t get anything from us. But the indifference of all these well-off people—no applause for these kids who play really well—eventually cracks our armor. I rush to our room to grab my wallet… Like magic, the atmosphere shifts from gloomy to dazzling. We look at each other, smile, start tapping our feet, and everyone relaxes. In that moment, the same thought crosses my mind about Théodore and his tough situation. He didn’t choose the bad fish. He did his best. The other groups didn’t eat any better—everyone does the exact same tour at the same price. Why not him? We decide to give him another chance. We’ll get our excursion and the feeling of helping someone through a rough patch...





Friday, October 4, 2019 Nosy Bé

A quiet day… Pool time… We scout the meet-up point for tomorrow’s whale-watching hike, about 2 kilometers down the beach…



Then we head back along a path that takes us away from the sea, discovering different landscapes…



We end the day with a trip to Dar Es Salam, always a favorite, to grab some snacks and drinks…



In the evening, after sunset—always a little different, always spectacular—I have lobster at Sol with my friend Merlot, a South African wine…

Lovely writing that reads like a photo novel—can’t wait for the next episode!

Hi Jasrymn,

I just checked out your https://www.myatlas.com/jasrymn/dix-ans-de-bourlingues-a-madagascar. It’s amazing, and I feel like a tiny, vaguely bourgeois tourist after reading it! Your compliment means even more now! I’ll definitely wander through your other travels around the world when I get the chance—totally sure it’ll kickstart the dream factory...

Saturday, October 5, 2019

Today’s the highlight of the trip: whale shark hunting—we’re right in the middle of the season! We’ve got a meet-up with Rando’Baleines on Ashanti Beach.



It’s almost two kilometers to the spot, but it’s cool—there are some really affectionate and playful kids tagging along with us.



Then we wait… Like every experience. That’s the rule. The guys tell you a time and show up an hour later to make sure everyone’s there.



If you’re the impatient type, you’ve picked the wrong destination, my friend! They finally arrive. The team—two Malagasy guys and one French—is pro. They know where to go and how to find them. We get briefed on the rules, all that stuff, and off we go! Adventure time!



Actually, it’s not that hard. The whale shark eats small fry and krill (plankton, shrimp…) that it sucks up with its vacuum-cleaner-like mouth. It’s wherever there’s a lot of it. And since bonitos—a fish that looks like a small tuna—eat the same thing at the surface, and you can spot a school from really far away because they make such a ruckus, you just head toward that excited bunch, and the shark’s underneath.



The vibe is super nice. We’ve got a group of young globetrotters who travel together regularly and have a real passion for snorkeling. Even though we almost never socialize, we hit it off right away.



“Go go go go!!!” I didn’t see anything, but I rush, put on my flippers, mask, and snorkel, and jump straight off the boat—completely forgetting all the instructions (NEVER jump off the boat). My flippers are great; I’m face-to-face with the monster in no time. It’s really impressive. First, I’m surprised by the number of big white parasites it’s hosting. Then, it’s the size! It *is* the biggest fish in the world, and you can tell! It comes up to the surface right in front of me, then dives into the depths and disappears. It’s just magical! It doesn’t resemble anything I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s like something out of prehistoric times. Maybe we’ll run into a dinosaur later on the island! I don’t have an underwater camera, which I really regret when the Swiss girl shows me what she filmed with her GoPro. To give you an idea, I found this on Google Images—it’s the closest to the beast we met.

That’s exactly it. In fact, it’s a photo taken by a tourist right here in Nosy Bé. We keep exploring. Another dive, another plunge. This time, I don’t find it. I’m next to the guide, just as clueless as I am. We surface, and he tells me, “Oh well, let’s head back.” Then suddenly, “It’s here—it’s gonna pass right under us!” And I see it gliding majestically just beneath my feet, like a big yellow-polka-dotted submarine. Incredible!

Third round, same story—I don’t see a thing. I give up and come across a ctenophore. It’s so strange—it looks like an underwater streetlamp.



I spend long minutes watching it, fascinated, then surface, ready to head back. That’s when several voices call out to me: “Watch out! It’s coming right at you!” And sure enough, I dodge it by a hair and see it pass at a distance where I could’ve touched it.



As the Americans say, “Amazing!”



I’m so mesmerized by the grace of the giant fish that I don’t realize my mask is too loose and full of water. I swallow a good amount, choke, rip off my mask, and swallow even more. The feeling is extremely unpleasant. I’ve had enough—I skip the last dive, even though it was apparently fabulous, according to the participants—a couple at the surface who were totally approachable.

https://voyageforum.com/images/posts/small/1572011337-xK81dbCfVYsFI9v.jpg

Hi there!

I was there around the same dates—maybe we crossed paths! 😉

Diving with the whale sharks was a truly amazing experience for me too. Didn’t see any *lanternfish*, but I did spot manta rays and mobula rays.

Thanks for everything, Jean-Luc, It’s really lovely to read. We’d love to read your other travel journals.

Hello Jasrymn,

I just went through your https://www.myatlas.com/jasrymn/dix-ans-de-bourlingues-a-madagascar. It’s extraordinary, and I feel like a tiny, vaguely bourgeois tourist after reading it! Your compliment means even more because of that! I’ll definitely check out your other travels around the world when I get the chance—obviously certain it’ll kickstart the dream factory...

Hello and thank you for the compliment, no doubt about it! I really appreciate humility in people, and it seems we share that trait... Your story reminded me of a little anecdote: we were in India, eating at a restaurant, and in front of us was a dance performance. The dancer was wonderful and full of grace, but no one was watching—we were the only ones applauding. Our ways of traveling are probably very different; you must’ve noticed I’m not really into luxury but more into adventure. But that doesn’t matter at all! As long as the experience is interesting.

They’re estimated to live up to 130 years. They can dive under two thousand meters deep and stay underwater for months. Of course, the species is in decline and is on the red list of endangered animals. Here, everyone has an ecological sensitivity, including the clients. There’s a charter with rules to follow: don’t dive to avoid stressing the animal (yeah, right…), don’t touch it, stay at least 3 meters away, no more than 6 divers at a time (yeah, right… in reality, as soon as the six leave, the rest of the boat follows…). When a boat drops its divers, any other boat waiting for the show must wait until the previous ones have surfaced… etc., etc. There are no plastic bottles on the boat; we’re given a metal canteen. The vibe is highly commendable! As for our star of the day, it’s a completely enigmatic animal. According to our guide, we don’t know much about the species—its reproduction, its ocean routes… There’s a mission here trying to understand their behavior. The pattern of spots on their backs is their fingerprint, and the local team has developed software to identify them for sure with a camera. They now have names, like Michel, the local celebrity, who’s not shy at all and seems to enjoy human company. Over 300 have been identified so far, making this site absolutely unique in the world. We also note that 80% of the whales observed are males, which could mean the females are elsewhere and there’s a geographic zone where they meet, but we have no idea where this "orgy" takes place. We’ve tagged 8 of these creatures, but the system only works for a few months and requires the animal to stay near the surface. Still, the experiment has helped scientists better understand the importance of Nosy Be, as four of the eight sharks returned after swimming over 4,250 kilometers in four months.



The boat then takes us to Nosy Sakatia, right across from where we’re staying. There’s a sort of marine meadow they call a seagrass bed, where two species of sea turtles, including the green turtle, come to feed and reproduce. It’s really cool to see them swim, like big birds, poking their heads out of the water before diving back into barely two meters of depth.



We have dinner on the island—fish, rice, potatoes, as usual, but better than the last tour!



On the way back after a sea trip, there’s nothing like rinsing off in one of the pools. We’re looking for two lounge chairs when two old guys offer us their seats. "We’re leaving, take these!" I spot a very pretty young Black girl (oh, men!) around 16-17 years old doing circles in the water. We chat with the two men who seem to live here and treat themselves to a stay at the hotel for the site’s pleasure. They’re very old, and we talk about health, quadruple bypasses, and other senior topics. As we’re about to part ways, one of them calls over the girl, who joins him and snuggles up against him. The three of them leave with sparks of happiness in their eyes. Dom and I are stunned, even though this kind of wealthy-old-guy-young-Malagasy-girl relationship isn’t hidden in Dar es Salaam. This kind of couple is, just like whale sharks and lemurs, one of the country’s big attractions. It’s obviously regrettable… But we’re in a world of money, and it seems inevitable.

In the evening, Zébu and SudAf are my best friends.

It was supposed to rain… We got a few distant flashes over the sea. However, the atmosphere is heavy and very humid.

Sunday, October 6, 2019

It’s become our rhythm—early to bed, early to rise. This morning, we hit the pool… Nothing special to do, just relaxing. I take the chance to check the internet, which is like the pioneer days… It’s exhausting, but I deal with it.



At 2 PM, we have a meet-up with Théo. We gave him two tickets: one for Mont Passot and one for the Lokobe Reserve. Time for the first one! It’s about climbing to the island’s highest point, barely 330 meters, then descending to the sacred lakes. After a 5-kilometer walk through the bush, we’ll climb back up just in time for sunset. Ready to go?



We’re accompanied by a young guide who was born and lives in the area. He’s very professional, explains the customs, makes us smell the essences, and tells us about the uses of each plant… He’s a walking encyclopedia! Below, he gives us a demo of a wood dye he gets by pressing leaves.



There are a few sections that used to be a road, littered with big dead leaves that crunch underfoot, surrounded by colonies of sensitive plants—real ones that retract when you touch them.



We spot the two lakes, which are craters.



We quickly come across a beautiful chameleon.

A bit further on, there’s a second one. I’ve got to say, Théo has an incredible eye! He made us stop the car on the road because he’d spotted one while driving! Without him, we wouldn’t have seen a single one. Really!



Dominique’s never afraid of anything. We hand her the most improbable things to taste, and she tries them all…



She’ll try anything. No fear at all! Here, it’s the island of Ylang Ylang, a tree that produces a fruit resembling leaves, from which a highly prized perfume essence is made. Big perfume houses use it. There’s so much of it everywhere!



The photo below has nothing to do with it—it’s a papaya tree. Every guide plays the same joke. The male papaya has flowers, while the female bears the fruit. So this one is definitely a papaya tree, while the other is a… *Mamaya*! Ha ha ha ha… You see, we’re having fun…



The mamaya, then,



next to a fruit used to make mattresses. Very comfortable, but mice love them, we’re told…



We arrive at a traditional Ylang Ylang distillery. A poor guy is working away in there in scorching heat, half-naked. The scene is so straight out of Zola that we slip him a bill as we pass, trying to ease his struggle for a moment…



The "factory" seen from above…



We come across some cattle… Théo goes out of his way, climbing trees to pick fruit… Much to Dominique’s delight!

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. 😉

Thanks for your reply, Jean-Luc, and I’m still following your travel journal with great pleasure! 🙂

Thanks for your travel journal. It’s so personal, and I love that. It’s your story with your feelings—I may share them or not, but it’s way more interesting to read than a “filtered” story. Please don’t change your tone or style, and accept my compliments on your photos.

Thanks so much for this beautiful share. After reading this, it really makes me want to go. Plus, I see that it’s possible to stand up to the scams by airport officials—those people tend to terrify me, especially when I’m exhausted from hours of flying. Your story is really encouraging in every way. Thanks again for the effort of publishing it—it’s a lot of work!

Hi there! If everything’s in order, you queue up, wait for your visa and luggage, and then exit the airport.

There’s no scam or extortion.

I’ve never been asked for anything, and I’ve never had to give anything either.

Thanks Max, for your really kind message. I’d completely moved on and even forgotten my travel journal existed. So now I’m thinking of posting a few other trips I’ve done here and there... It’s true that it takes time...

This is a trip you’ve got to take. We arrived feeling genuinely worried after reading forums and even hearing from people around us who had a really alarming view of Madagascar. Safety, health... “Don’t go!” pretty much sums up the general vibe. But our fears quickly faded. Once we passed the airport, we only met kind people. Looking back, the only real precaution is to bring repellent to avoid mosquito and midge bites. As for the airport anecdote, I’m not sure how common it is. Maybe we just ran into *the* “bad guy.” But it wasn’t traumatizing. The guy in front of me left a few euro coins, and if he hadn’t given anything, honestly, they wouldn’t have made a fuss. They clearly weren’t comfortable either... He was “trying.” It’s a way to improve tough living conditions, and it was totally non-aggressive.

Good evening, Africa in general, and Madagascar in particular, aren't exactly riding a wave of Western tourism. There's a pretty negative image and press for a bunch of reasons. Anyway. You've moved past that, which is great because, as you mentioned, you really enjoyed it. Awesome.

As for customs, there are some bad apples. That's for sure. But if you're following the rules and you're polite yet firm, there's no reason they should insist. I've never seen it happen (though I can't swear it never does). There are two main reasons why some people end up paying: - They give in to the demand, thinking it's typical and that if they don’t, they’ll run into problems. Unfortunately, it does happen, and it’s a real shame because, as you said, there’s no reason to pay. - They’ve done something wrong and pay to get through. That happens too. Some people who complain about corruption are often the first to use it for a favor. This is rarely the case for tourists—it’s more common among regulars, residents or not.

Nothing that should stop you from discovering this magnificent country

Well, I really enjoyed your descriptions of the places you visited, but it seems to me you missed the real Madagascar... Nosy Bé already!! That’s not Madagascar... it’s a dream island full of money and wealthy tourists, luxury hotels, and cheap restaurants that even most Malagasy people can’t afford... It has nothing to do with the rest of life on the Big Island 😕 Of course, locals make a living from it, but what disdain to drop a "bill" every now and then... A Malagasy person earns 30 euros a month... a teacher I know earns 100 euros!! Go see other places in Madagascar, and you’ll understand. The kindness of the Malagasy people is astonishing given their poverty, which affects 80 percent of the population... I’ll stop now 😕... you’re lucky to be able to travel (just like me, by the way), but let’s stay humble: as you say, neither capitalist nor commie!!!!

You're right, Antoine, obviously Nosy Be isn't Madagascar, just as Madagascar isn't Africa. What you're saying is accurate, but I already wrote that in a previous post. I'm sharing MY trip. It's not representative of anything. It's a personal account. It's not meant to lecture anyone in any way. I don't think it's useful to start a debate here, whatever the topic. This isn't the place for it. On this forum, we share our travel experiences. Some readers might find it awful, others will appreciate it. The former should be able to move on and find themselves thousands of kilometers away with just a few clicks. No need to get upset—people aren't all the same. Regarding the last part of your message, I agree with the first half. Best regards, despite everything.

Reasonable message.

Nosy Be isn’t Madagascar, but it’s definitely one of Madagascar’s many facets. Just like Tana, Tuléar, Majunga, or Tamatave aren’t *the* Madagascar either. Because Madagascar is the combination of all these places.

And the Malagasy people of Nosy Be are still Malagasy, no matter what.

Personally, I love discovering as many facets as possible, and I honestly really enjoyed the North, especially Nosy Be—even though I used to be more of a highlands *vazaha*, into rice fields and summer drizzle (where whale sharks and dolphins aren’t exactly common, unlike in Nosy Be). And I don’t see a problem with loving both. By avoiding Ambatoloaka, you skip the most touristy part and maybe some of the island’s less appealing sides. But the rest of the island has villages, people far from tourism, gorgeous spots, and so on. All while keeping in mind that tourism here is still pretty low-key anyway.

Life isn’t about subtractions—it’s about additions.