Almost paradise
At the beginning of the year, I had landed on the idea of going to Madagascar. It seemed the most remote and untouched place I could imagine. A place that could challenge me more than anywhere else. So I decided that was where I wanted go.
Over the following months, the idea faded. Upon reaching Kenya and contemplating next destinations, it had completely disappeared from consideration. New ideas flew in and surpassed it. Then I stayed in Kenya far longer than I ever anticipated.
When a new friend mentioned going to Madagascar, the idea sparked again. I dove into what the options were. How expensive was it? How hard was it to get around? Was there good internet? My original thoughts about the country quickly became reality. It was a very challenging place. Hard to get to. Hard to get around in. Remote, rough, mostly untouched by the West. It all felt too rich for my blood at the present time. So I sort of said goodbye to the idea once again.
But then Mark booked into a coliving he found, and the price didn’t seem too bad. And I hadn’t yet made a decision on where I would go. And time was running short. So in haste, I booked it. The plan was set. One month on a remote beach, in a remote village, in one of the most remote countries in Africa.
I braced myself to be more challenged than I had been in Kenya. I lowered expectations of what living conditions would be like. Madagascar is currently the ninth poorest country in the world, calculated by purchasing power per-capita. The estimated average wage is around $2 per day. I imagined poverty and lots of begging.
Yet what I found all felt easier than Kenya. Maybe it was the remoteness of the place. Maybe it was the isolation. Maybe it was the low brow luxury of my accommodation. Whatever it was, it felt easy.
Waves crashed on the beach a mere 17 steps from my door. The water was warm, yet cooling in the daytime heat. There were idyllic views from my terrace and dinner was served every night at 7pm.
The village was small and very poor, but the people weren’t desperate or as abrasive as in Kenya. Maybe they just didn’t have an idea that there was a larger world outside of this tiny village. Resigned to the life they had and simply living it. Yet they all had internet. There was plenty of tiktoks and IG reels being consumed, so they had to know there was a world outside of this village. Still everyone seemed happy and content with their lives.
With one “restaurant” and one “bar” in town, we quickly became regulars at both. Our lunch spot was easily my favorite place in Madagascar.
Authentic. I loathe the word, and travelers go crazy trying to find it. But I don’t think I’ve experienced anything more authentic than this food shack. The ladies that run the shop were sweet and kind. Dubious of us vazaha at first, I think they came to enjoy our daily appearance. Perhaps they even miss us a little now that we're gone.
In our first few visits, we would ask what was on the menu and quickly came to find there was just a single daily option. Soon, it was just “trois plats et trois bieres.” The dishes were simple but always delicious. Fresh fish, caught that morning. Pork chops. Beef skewers. Always with rice and a salad of shredded carrots or cabbage.
I looked forward to lunch time everyday and wanted to sit at the table for hours, watching nothing happen at the “intersection” of the only road in town. Nothing much happened here, yet everyday, these women cooked rice, stoked flames and laughed with each other. This was everyday, all year, forever in this place. It was the simplest of lives, but I think I could have stayed there forever.
And the sunset, ohhhhhh, the sunsets. Consistently epic every single night.
My time in this land wasn’t without adventure though. Come the weekend, we would try to get out and explore.
Our first adventure was back across the bay to the island of Nosy Be, and the town of Hell-ville. High on my list was seeing the lemurs, and there was a nature park, of sorts, just outside town.
Trying to keep our costs low we opted not to get a guide and simply started to wander around the park. At first, it seemed like the place might be a total bust. While the natural beauty was enjoyable, there didn’t seem to be any animals, let alone lemurs.
Suddenly, there was one, then two … then so many that it wasn’t a novelty anymore. We saw green vipers, massive tortoises, crocs, chameleons and at least five different species of lemur. The lemurs didn’t seem afraid or bothered by humans and would come right up to you and eat bananas from your hands.
Next stop was a tranquil waterfall. It felt hidden, but there was plenty of people at the falls when we arrived. We had a nice swim in the water below the falls and then headed for our accommodation.
After a brief rest we headed to Madirokelly, the lively and very touristy part of the city. We found a nice beach bar from which to imbibe cocktails at sunset, then sought out some dinner. With our belly’s full, we hopped into another beach side bar before walking “the one street.”
This is where all the “action” happens. It’s your typical, sort of seedy, expat haven. Lots of bright lights, cheap drinks, and old white men with very young local girls. Obviously not my jam, but here we were anyways. We found our way to a club with live music, had a few drinks and then I called it a night. An experience to be sure, but not really my thing.
My highlight of Madagascar came a couple weekends later.
I’ve always been enchanted by the idea of sailing. The open sea with wind blowing in my hair, pushed along by said wind. Nothing to do but watch the world go by.
So we set up a four day, three night sail around some of the islands. When we first started looking for a boat, the prices, while probably reasonable, were more than any of us wanted to spend. Through our host, we found a boat at a price that fit our budget a little better.
On a Friday morning, we took the speed boat taxi back across to Hell-ville to meet up with our captain and set sail. In the harbor, as we made our way from shore, we were surrounded by big, beautiful sailing boats. As we rounded a little bend, our vessel came into view. And let’s just say “you get what you pay for.”
While it wasn’t a dingy or a dump, it also certainly wasn’t one of the luxury boats we were floating past. Let's just call it “rustic.” Most catamarans have two hulls with a cabin and deck in the middle. Our boat had the deck but no cabin. Inside each of the hulls was a very small cabin. One housed the galley, the other a bed. No lounge area and no toilet. Essentially a floating deck with a sail. This was going to be an interesting weekend.
The rustic vibe threw us all off a bit, but as the weekend progressed we came to love our little floating abode.
It wasn’t about the boat anyways, it was about the sailing. And the sailing was amazing! It was everything I dreamt it could be.
The places you can go on a boat are just surreal. Each night we moored in a unique and breathtaking location. Waking up in the morning and going for a fresh ocean swim before coffee is something I didn’t know I needed in my life.
On day two, our boat had engine problems, so the captain sent us out to kayak and snorkel with sea turtles. He also sent us out with no real plans for what happens next. We tried to push this out of our heads and just enjoy the morning.
With no plan, we weren't prepared for what to do when we were done. We found ourselves on a beach with no plan and no money. Given how poor the country is, you can imagine that cash is king and cards are really unuseable. We felt a bit stuck and definitely frustrated by the situation.
I had brought my phone with me with the idea of taking photos, and serendipitiously it saved our ass. We luckily found a hotel restaurant that would accept card and did tap-to-pay. We gorged ourselves on camembert burgers and beer before kayaking back to our now repaired boat.
From here we started our biggest sail of the weekend, and as we hit open water, all the frustrations washed away like the waves hitting our hull. We took turns at the helm of the boat, learned to tack and tie knots as we cruised along. Sunset was viewed on open water, as we made our approach into the Bay of Rus.
Once at anchor, we kayaked to shore to what looked like a dubious restaurant, but turned into the best meal of our entire time in Madagascar. Pate and fresh bread. Fish curry and pork curry, and all the accountrements.
We awoke the next morning to realize just what paradise we were in. Crystal clear waters allowed us to see the 10-15 meters to the bottom, AND the turtles and baby sharks swimming beneath us.
We did some snorkeling and tried to help Mark learn to dive off the side of the boat. Some of the snorkeling gear was subsequently dropped to the bottom before being rescued after several attempts.
Our day's sail saw us hoisting the spinnaker as we sailed downwind. And the day's destination was probably the most remote place I’ve ever been. A small, remote island in a remote bay of one of the most remote countries in the world. The epitome of the middle of nowhere!
We spent our final night drinking cheap beer and even cheaper rum. The setting sun turned the sky a vibrant orange before melting into dazzling hues of pink and purple.
Despite some of the hiccups and miscommunications at the beginning of the trip, this turned out to be a highlight of my adventures so far. Another bucket list item checked off.
More than anything, I’ve found a new way of traveling, and I know I’m obsessed now. I’ll definitely be looking to take another sail soon, that much is for sure.
On another occasion, we hiked from the village up the mountain to a smaller and more remote village. Seeing the most basic of human survival in person is extremely eye opening. From a western perspective, these people have absolutely nothing. Yet they live lives full of happiness and fulfillment.
We met the village chief, who told us the village was home to about 50 people. He said they are entirely self-sufficient, living on only what the land provides. A single solar panel generates the only power for the whole village. The children were shy at first but became bold the longer we stayed, eventually shouting at us and laughing when we didn’t understand.
Like so many other experiences on my travels, this was a moment that put so much into perspective. To see how at peace these people were can be confounding sometimes. I come from a place of excess, where bigger is seen as better and the more you have the more you are “worth.” This is not that place, and it makes me wish we were all a little bit more like the Malagasy people.
This was an odd month for me. I had booked the month at the last minute on a whim. I assumed I’d get work, which would make staying in a remote place easier. It didn’t work out that way, and most of the month was spent reading and watching waves crash onto the beach. I found it both welcoming and annoying. I so easily slip into a realm of laziness from which it can be hard to break free from.
Days bled together into one mass of sameness. Each hour seemed to cross from pleasing to unpleasing without effort or notice. Restlessness would flare up. But the remoteness of my location required greater efforts to escape from than I was willing to make. This became frustrating, as I started to feel like I was wasting being in a place that I’d more than likely never return to. I had to remind myself that you can’t always be doing something. As always, be here now. Enjoy what's present, don't worry about what's not.
It’s worth noting that this country is much bigger than anyone thinks. And the infrastructure is overwhelming inadequate. Had I come here purely for adventure, things would have gone much differently. Staying in one place for my entire time, especially one so remote made it difficult to do much beyond what I actually did.
I don’t regret coming here. I had some beautiful experiences, but I left with a twinge of regret at not seeing more. I return to the thought I have often on this journey, one that keeps some perspective.
Don’t worry about the places you don’t go and enjoy the places you do.
As this latest adventure makes its way into my archive, I am grateful for so much. I’ve just spent nearly three months with two wonderful new friends. From the outside, we are a strange bunch, but we meshed and complimented each other well. We had lots of laughs, many at each other’s expense and I will forever cherish getting to know them.
Thank you Mark, and merci Lancelot. I look forward to future adventures together.
It's time to look ahead. Insane adventures await in the very near future. Some have been in planning for more than a year. I’m making a very big leap in both geography and adventure style.
As a teaser, I’m writing this post from Hà Nôi, while a massive Super Typhoon thrashes about outside my window. But this is a stepping stone to a bigger adventure. One that will no doubt push me to, and beyond, my very limits.
While the excitement for this grows with each day, I’m also extremely excited for the here and now. Vietnam is sure to hold untold treasures and experiences. Let's see what it unlocks within me.