The Taxi-Brousse

I've been meaning to write this post for a while and I'll paint a picture first. Imagine an old van that may or may not be rusty, has about five rows of seats, is extremely bouncy, and struggles to get up hills. Now imagine that van with about 30 people crammed into it holding bags on their laps, bags of rice shoved under the seats, and the roof piled high with luggage or furniture or sometimes live animals. Now imagine riding this packed van for 10-14 hours depending on how many times it stops. This is how I travel. The taxi-brousse normally leaves 1-4 hours late and stops continuously until it's full. Also, my idea of full is very conservative compared to what the driver thinks is full. The music is normally blasting whatever the driver decides which I've heard popular Malagasy songs, 80's American songs, or sometimes a recording of a church service. The road is bumpy, curvy, and full of potholes. Sometimes people throw up in a bag if they have one but the driver doesn't stop either way. You are so squished that you have to lean forward in order to fit your shoulders. Most of the time, your bag is on your lap but sometimes you're holding another person's child. The van stops once or twice so everyone can go to the bathroom on the side of the road (there are no designated rest stops or port-o-potties). It also stops for about a half hour so that everyone can get something to eat. The hours sometimes go quickly and sometimes drag on. And the craziest part about all of this it now seems normal.

You know you're a PCV when:
-You start complaining about paying more than $2 for a meal
-You use the same jokes over and over
Ex. Me: How old are you?
Random child: 7 years old
Me: Me too!
Gets a laugh every time

Events Following the Return to Site

I returned to site completely refreshed after almost a month away. It was so happy to get back because honestly, I needed a vacation from my vacation. I was happy to see my friends, neighbors, and co-workers, and people trickled in and out during the first few days back to say hello. Not too many randos asked me for a voandalana (gift from traveling) which was also a plus as I already have roughly 40 people to bring gifts to! I brought cookies back for my doctor's family, guard’s family, my 'Gasy family, the CSB staff, and my 18 ACs—I can't carry much more! People called out to me by name saying they missed me and asking where I was. This is a huge plus because that means people know who I am and know that I'm not a random vazaha! However, within my first few hours back, I did get called fat, pimply, and that I was bad at speaking Malagasy. Thanks guys, I missed you too. The Malagasy in my town are very straightforward. If I change at all in this country it will be that I have very thick skin.

The day after I got back, my friend came over and asked if I was going to watch the cow wrestling. Hell yea I'm going to watch cow wrestling! We went to her house around 1:00 and watched from the balcony. The event started 'when the music starts' which was about two hours late. Everyone on the street started dancing and then in a mass, traveled around the corner and out of site. 20 minutes later, they all came running and screaming following by a bucking bull. One guy tried desperately to hang on only to be quickly replaced by another guy once he fell off. Everyone rounded the corner again and the event was over. It lasted roughly one minute. People continued to dance in the street for hours after. What an unexpected way to spend my afternoon!

Two days after I got back I attended a wedding. This was actually part II of the wedding I went to a few months ago. However, this time the ceremony was held in the church. Overall it was similar to a wedding in the States. However when the 'Wedding March' played, everyone clapped to the beat and the wedding party waved their arms in a dance. The ceremony ended and the bride, groom, and wedding party all got into the back of a few trucks and paraded around town. Oh also, it was pouring rain. They looked so cold and miserable! The reception was help outside under a large tent that dripped steady streams of water. We ate the same food as last time which I guess was a standard wedding meal: pasta, mashed potatoes, carrot salad, rice, and goose. My friends are still astonished when I tell them I don't eat meat, “But then what can you eat!?”

You know you're a PCV when:
-Voandalanas seriously stress you out
-Sometimes you crave sweets to the point of eating plain sugar or just smelling vanilla or just eating sweetened condensed milk or eating just honey by the spoonful

Pictures from Site

The two midwives and I

After teaching the class about hand washing

Lac Alaotra

Lac Alaotra

Karate and Kung Fu clubs

The neighbor kids

After building tippy taps

My house



My counterpart and I during IST

Journey to the South

After IST many PCVs decide to take a post-IST trip since we were not allowed to travel during the first three months. My friend Michele and I decided to go south of Tana. We took a 10 hour taxi-brousse ride (I plan to write an entire blog post just about taxi-brousses) to Fianarantsoa which is another large city. We spent one evening and morning trying to figure out the train schedule to the east coast (it only runs certain days, sometimes it only takes stuff not people, sometimes it leaves from a different town-what?) before deciding to just brousse it.

We headed east to Ranomafana which is a touristy town with a large national park conserving the tropical rainforest. Much of the plants and animals are only found in this park. We hiked for about four hours one morning and viewed several species of lemurs, many birds and plants, and one chameleon. In the afternoon we shopped and played pool in the hotels. We met an elderly Swiss man who invited us to dinner with his family. This man lived in Madagascar when he was young and was back to show his family his where he grew up. We enjoyed a lovely dinner with them talking about what we do as Peace Corps volunteers. The evening ended with an invitation to stay with them in Switzerland if we are ever passing through the area.

The next day, we continued east out of the highlands and to the coast to a town called Manakara. Michele and I spent the day on the beach drinking wine and eating delicious food (crab with coconut sauce anyone?). We also fripped like crazy which is like thrifting but from stands on the street. I'm in the process of phasing out the safari clothes I brought to country to a more normal attire. While walking to the beach we came across a bridge that had collapsed. The bridge was no longer accessible to cars but wooden stairs were built to get across. It was still very much used by the Malagasy either doing laundry and selling goods. Nothing goes to waste here!

We ended our vacation back in Fianarantsoa where we hung out at the meva which is a house only for Peace Corps volunteers. We fripped again and also enjoyed awesome pizza that was better than some pizza in the States. We had a great vacation but are looking forward to returning to site!

You know you're a PCV when:
-You hate the Fianar taxi-brousse station
-You've made the mistake of taking a pousse-pousse with luggage (A pousse-pousse is a cart pulled by a man sometimes on a bicycle and other times just on foot. Michele and I thought the pousse-pousse had a bicycle when it didn't when we accepted to ride with both of our huge hiking backpacks. That poor man!)