Jun 22, 2024
Madagascar
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Move it

Tsaranoro Valley, Madagascar

The highlights have been high, but the travel has been long and punishing, and one week in, I’ve spent more than half my time in Madagascar sitting in transport. After an 8 hour 4×4 ride again on the world’s worst road from Tsingy de Bemaraha to Morondava (250 km), barely a night’s rest before a 12 hour ride from Morondava to Antsirabe (484 km), a one-day break there, then what was supposed to be a 7 hour taxi-brousse ride to Fianarantsoa (243 km) that turned into 10 hours where I missed my onward transfer, I admit to feeling pretty done. And while people have been unfailingly polite, real interactions have been few. For a classic backpacking destination, I was also surprised not to have encountered anyone to group up with; any other tourists I saw were heading off in different directions, mostly in private transport. (Turns out I was a few weeks early from peak season.)

After missing the transfer, I needed to re-plan, deciding to take one last southbound taxi-brousse 2 more hours to Ambalavao (55 km – yes it’s that slow even on a paved road) en route to a nearby lemur reserve. It turned out to be one of the worst rides I had: a one-hour wait for it to fill up before departure, 29 people squeezed in a Sprinter for 18, squeezed so tight I was unable to move (hey look, name of the blog), barely avoiding the beak of a live duck in a plastic bag sitting on the lap of the man beside me. It felt like the last straw — in my head, after that, no more taxis-brousses except to return to Tana. No more hikes, having had enough of that in Réunion. Sure, there’s far more points of interest further south, like Isalo to Toliara, but… when the spark’s gone, you can’t force it.

And yet, on my arrival to Ambalavao, a vaguely familiar face made me change my mind on a dime, with a different spark. Thanks to him, I chose more suffering, and got even more suffering than I braced myself for — yet I couldn’t be happier for the experience.
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Jun 16, 2024
Madagascar
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Sharp

Morondava to Tsingy de Bemaraha, Madagascar

It’s a long, arduous bus ride from Tana to Morondava on the west coast, 700 km away. My guidebook from just a few years ago says it’s 12 hours. Nowadays, even in the best of taxi-brousse (bush taxi) options (companies such as Cotisse, Soatrans, or Kompima with better-maintained vans, assigned seating, and scheduled departure times as opposed to the vast majority: duct-taped vans struggling up even the slightest incline, passenger overloading, and departures when full), it’s 16 hours on one of Madagascar’s few paved national routes, riddled with deep potholes and washouts.

Well, infrastructure has clearly gotten worse over the years. But heading west from the capital, everything in general seems a bit sparser. The towns get smaller to the point of being one-street villages with over-manned police checkpoints that seem present only for bribes (and they certainly don’t care if the vehicle’s not roadworthy), the houses become more modest until they’re just straw and mud shacks, electricity poles are replaced by portable solar panels to charge phones and flashlights, virtually no economy exists, and there’s a lot more children around working in the rice terraces or herding zebus, even on a weekday — school is too expensive for many families. There’s also a pretty despairing sight around many of the potholed sections of road, given that all vehicles must slow down for them: children and adults selling meagre items or even begging. I never once saw a successful attempt.

Morondava’s on the beach but it’s more for fishing than for swimming or relaxing. There’s one thing people come here for: the Avenue of the Baobabs just outside of town, one of Madagascar’s iconic tourist sites. It’s more surprising just how many tourists I’m seeing who’ve made it this far — especially Asian tourists as old as my parents!
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Jun 12, 2024
Madagascar
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Status quo

Antananarivo, Madagascar

From far away, Tana (as the name’s frequently shortened to) might provide an alluring impression of Madagascar: settlements spread out among the hillsides, surrounded by green rice fields.

But up close is where the true first impression is, and while not that bad, it’s not a nice one. Honestly though, I’m not sure what would be. Taking a cab an hour from the airport into town, everything hits: the traffic, the pollution, the crowds, the poverty. (Perhaps it’s the jarring change from Mauritius, since none of this usually phases me.) As darkness falls (relatively early at 5:30pm in the winter), the streets quiet down even downtown and gain an almost eerie atmosphere. It’s kind of off-putting, and it didn’t exactly inspire any desire to go out any further than the end of the block.

The next morning hits, and I’m out looking for breakfast. On the grand Avenue de l’Indépendance, I spot a boulangerie from afar, a lovely prospect and perhaps one of the few positive legacies of French colonization. Aside from the croissant, inside is another story: old European men and their very young local female consorts. As I quickly found out over the rest of the month, there’s a distressing amount of exploitation going on, and I felt no option of internally coping aside from averting my gaze.

For better and for worse… reality may not be what most visitors come for, but this is Madagascar.
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Jun 10, 2024
Mauritius
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Everybody

Mahébourg to Flic-en-Flac, Mauritius

You know how in Canada, we have bilingual packaging? For us anglophones, we call it “cereal box French” or “shampoo French” – that’s basically our only exposure to the language on a day to day basis, and probably the extent of our knowledge for those of us long gone from high school. We really could do better.

Now look at Mauritius — or in French, Maurice. The official language is English and most can get by, but far more people speak French and tend to lead interactions with it, though everyone speaks Creole amongst themselves. Signs are in one to three languages, sometimes but often not translated, even in museums. Restaurant menus are haphazardly written in a mix. Towns often have names in both English and French. People comfortably switch between languages mid-sentence with no acknowledgement. There’s no identity crisis, no linguistic politics. The national currency even has amounts written in Tamil and Hindi, neither of which have official status. Students learn English, French, Hindi, and Mandarin in school!

There are other, far more obvious reasons that people come to Mauritius. But for me, as a language enthusiast, it’s jealousy that brought me here.
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Jun 3, 2024
France, Réunion
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Hopla

Salazie to Cilaos, Réunion

There’s one word that initially comes to mind for all of…this: why?

Why does this place exist? Why is this actually France? Why are all the roads so twisty? Why do people live so isolated?

Also, why did I choose to rent a car and have my first drive in three years be one after a marathon overnight flight to Paris, a 9 hour airport change carrying all my things in the city centre, a second overnight flight to La Réunion, and a couple hours up an incredibly twisty and narrow mountain road all the while trying to function entirely in French? Hey, at least I’m still here to tell the tale.
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Aug 20, 2023
Australia
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Whims

 Sydney, Australia

Not five minutes into my arrival from Port Moresby back to Brisbane, I literally faceplant in exhaustion while trying to catch a train. I get up and run in, with bloodied hands and knees, and laugh it off.

Adrenaline keeps me going in a brief reunion with Vyvian. Oh, the novelty of having a lovely restaurant meal with a friend again! Of a beautiful Saturday morning market stroll! Of a haircut to finally feel fresh again! Of an afternoon enjoying the sunshine and the skyline view from South Bank!

It lasts until I drag myself to the airport, endure yet another delayed flight, then onto Sydney, where I’m unable to buy a transit card with no credit card until I plead with an attendant to use hers and I repay her in cash. It’s hard to get by in an increasingly cashless society when your stuff is stolen. I’m tired.

Sydney is one of the world’s most famous and livable cities, renowned for its beauty. You come here for the Harbour and Opera House, of course. And in this week in particular, the Women’s World Cup, with the whole country rallying for the Matildas.

Yet at this point, a week from the end, all I want is a taste of home.
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Aug 11, 2023
Papua New Guinea
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Sepik River Crocodile Festival

 Ambunti, Papua New Guinea

From hundreds of kilometres away in either direction, tribes from the Lower, Middle, and Upper Sepik all converge once a year in Ambunti for the Sepik River Crocodile Festival. It’s a show where everyone brings the best of their diverse culture in singsings, art, the biggest yams, and of course, crocodiles. I’ve said my piece in the full entry — here’s the best of what I captured.

For logistics on how to visit the festival or Papua New Guinea in general, click here.
Photos and videos ahead→

Aug 9, 2023
Papua New Guinea
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Patience

Sepik River Crocodile Festival
 Upper Sepik, Papua New Guinea

The Sepik River might be the closest thing people imagine of PNG: hard to access, tribal and traditional, spirits inhabiting nature, and a slow, remote way of life. It’s considered one of the signature spots of PNG identity and culture; in a country with few tourists, a place that a large portion attempt to visit despite the hassle. Even PNG’s national parliament building in Port Moresby is modeled after a Sepik spirit house. It’s those very houses that I first saw on TV years ago that planted the seed for this trip, and so the Sepik is the centerpiece — one that almost didn’t happen.
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Aug 2, 2023
Papua New Guinea
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Embellish

 Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea

Consistently ranked in the top ten least livable cities in the world, Port Moresby, the capital and by far largest city of PNG, has a formidable reputation. The high violent crime rate is top of mind. Information online says not to walk anywhere. Canada’s travel advice recommends hiring private security while in the city, in addition to granting PNG the distinction of being the only non-African country with an orange “avoid non-essential travel” rating.

Get into town and you’ll see the what the PNG government promotes. Fancy hotels, giant malls, and billboards in Waigani district. A stunning parliament building in the style of a Sepik haus tambaran. There’s a shiny new convention centre built for the 2018 APEC summit, next to Ela Beach, surrounded by glitzy mid-rises. The pièce de résistance? A giant “Amazing Port Moresby” sign by the shore, at the best spot from which to watch the sun set.

Reality, as usual, is somewhere in between.
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Jul 31, 2023
Papua New Guinea
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Force

 Rabaul and Kokopo, Papua New Guinea

From Kokopo, in good weather, there’s a tantalizing sight in the distance: Mt. Tavurvur, an active volcano at the edge of the Gazelle Peninsula, past the town of Rabaul.

Having been rained out of visiting Rabaul during the Mask Festival, and spending the rest of my time after it waiting for a boat that never left, I had every intention of returning to East New Britain for four or five more days after New Ireland. Alas, the national fuel shortage and arbitrary airline shenanigans stranded me there, leaving me with just one day back in Kokopo and Rabaul before my next flight.

It’s just enough for a speed run, and a quick hello-again to my new friends at the guesthouse in Kokopo. It’s sadly not enough to accept their invitations to visit their villages, including one who greeted the first visiting missionaries from Fiji by, uh, eating them. Their bones are still kept in the village… but at least the village is Christian now? Would’ve been an interesting stop. Thanks, Obama Air Niugini. Ahem, back to Rabaul.
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