Travel blog: Masoala and Maroansetra

Lakuna/canoe on the Masoala peninsular (photo: Sara Lehoullier)

Tuesday, 10, Nov 2009 10:14

Sara LeHoullier is going exploring both on and off the beaten path on the world's fourth-largest island for three months. She shares her experiences in Madagascar with travelbite.co.uk in her 13th blog entry:

I have had a couple of days to think about our trip to Masoala, and I still haven't found a good way to write about it. The ride out to the peninsula is beautiful, the snorkelling is incredible (it's my new favorite thing to do!), the beaches are amazing, and the pristine primary forest is crammed with red-ruffed lemurs (though we only saw one), geckos, chameleons, and weird huge bugs. It is a little paradise. However.

I think this was a case of 'live and learn'. I've been incredibly lucky so far on my trip, finding good, cheap places to stay and eat, and meeting great people everywhere. However, this time we accidentally stayed at a lodge that made me sort of uncomfortable.

Perhaps I have trouble with the concept of 'luxury ecotourism' in general (which is a load of crap, in my humble opinion), or maybe I was just mad that I didn't follow my gut feeling about this particular establishment and find another place to stay.

The going rate for staying at the lodge in question is 245 Euros per night, per person. You read right, that's not a mistake.

This is approximately twice the monthly salary of the average teacher in Madagascar. For one night, for one person. In a tent. Yes, it's a luxury tent, but still, it is a tent. We obviously didn't pay the real price (I am a graduate student after all) - we got a deal because a friend worked there (she has since quit).

What does this incredibly large amount of money pay for? Supposedly, for a luxury camping experience, the only hot water on the peninsula (which we didn't even use - who needs it?), and local organic food - overall, a unique experience in one of the most beautiful spots in Madagascar.

Last time I checked, canned pears and corn from the grocery store in Tamatave are neither local nor organic. I'd rather have well-prepared, delicious Malagasy food any day (we are in Madagascar, after all), and I wish we had stayed at one of the other two, more reasonably priced establishments to have our unique experience.

When we got back to Maroansetra, we were planning on staying for a few days to re-fuel and get some solid writing time. I went to the Air Madagascar office on our second day, and found out that, because of flight schedules, we'd have to stay for seven nights instead of the original four.

That's the longest we've stayed anywhere! It turned out OK; the hotel was cheap and in a good location, and there were a few people here to hang out with, like Isabella, who's teaching English at the swanky vazaha hotel in exchange for room and board, and Theresa, the ex-Peace Corps volunteer married to a Malagasy English teacher.

There's not very much to do in Maroansetra besides walk around until you get hot and then sit on a veranda somewhere, but it's a great little town - quiet and calm and safe.

On Friday, we decided to go dancing. We are not the 'going dancing' kind of people. After walking for what seemed like several kilometres, we went down a side road that seemed a very unlikely place for a disco to be.

As we got closer, we heard the music blaring at top volume, and approached the entrance. They were really excited to see us - unnaturally so. Then we found out why.

We were the only people there, just the six of us (three Americans, two English, and one Malagasy). We ordered some drinks, and I darted outside to see what the deal was. I said, 'Why are we the only people here? It's Friday night, is it not?'

A small, excited woman came up to me, pulled me aside, and very confidentially told me not to worry, that people were coming. Then she ran down the dark street, phone in hand, trilling something like, 'Come to the club, come to the club! Yes, it's time!'

Within five minutes, 10 or 20 people came skipping onto the empty dance floor. It was fun; I learned some new dances (mostly involving trying to move my butt in a way that it does not naturally move), and taught Nico how to do the typical Malagasy dance for men, which is goes something like this: energetically step from side to side and make a lifting motion with your hands, palms up. We closed the place down.

At some point during the night (I learned this the next day) our friend managed to get lost after he pulled a 'Houdini' and left without telling anyone. Somehow he stumbled to a building that was still lit up, pushed in through the door, and found himself in the middle of a church service (mind you, this is about 01:30 in the morning), shouting preacher and all!

After escaping back to the road and getting chased by a tiny-but-fierce dog, he finally got a ride back to the hotel from a guy on a motorcycle. It sounded like a David Lynch film.

Here we go - to Sambava and Diego and beyond!

Sara LeHoullier

Sara LeHoullier also blogs regularly on her Spotlight Madagascar website. Her Madagascar travel guide, published by Other Places Publishing will be released in 2010.