Lemurs!
You all sitting back on your couches at home are probably thinking to yourself ‘was it worth it’? Was it worth the international flights and miles and miles of travel on roads that I wouldn’t even call roads, and hiking through stifling jungle heat for days just to catch a glimpse of one of the lemur’s tails? WELL OF COURSE IT WASN’T BLOODY WELL WORTH IT!!! I mean are you mad?? Would you do it?? – John Cleese
Well actually sir…yes I would. And yes it was 
Then again, I actually managed to see several lemurs.
To begin at the beginning: Madagascar was the first time I’d ridden in a vibrantly decorated mini-bus that looked more like a cross between a school bus (and that was about the size of the seats, good thing we all knew each other already!) and the mystery-mobile from Scooby Doo. Seriously, this vehicle was multiple shades of brilliant, I mean it had lemurs and fish painted all over it! Who could dislike a bus with lemurs painted on it?
Anyway…
Madagascar is one of the few places I’ve been to that looks precisely what you imagine it will. The bus trundled past clay-brick markets with straw roofs where women carried shopping on their heads, and past rickety carts pulled by small water buffalo. Everybody going about their business under the thick layer of jungle heat.
Abruptly the city gave way to the heat of the jungle itself, where locals were hacking at the encroaching greenery along the side of the road with vicious looking machetes. The bus rattled and chugged along roads that – and I agree with Mr. Cleese here – could barely be called roads by western standards, but at least got us where we needed to go. The scenery was amazing: low lying ylang-ylang trees and huge palm trees as far as the eye could see. It was then that I realized we were travelling with not only the windows, but the doors open. Air-conditioning the old way!
The bus eventually trundled to a stop in a dusty square surrounded by a few ramshackle buildings and houses. Children that look no more than five or six play in the streets, and the occasional duck wanders ideally past us. For a few minutes we were all distracted by the insanely adorable puppies that greeted us when we got off the bus – little more than balls of fur with legs. The children all stopped to stare at us with huge wide eyes once in a while, and it occurred to me that the youngest of them may very well have not seen a Caucasian person before. We must look very bizarre to some.
A considerable hike out of the village took us through the mangrove flats. The tide was out (which is the only reason obviously that we could cross them on foot), so the trees looked oddly lonely and abandoned in the middle of the sand. Tiny crabs scattered around our feet and unexpected tidal pools soaked us to the ankles. I found myself being very grateful for the little canvas shoes my parents gave me for Christmas; these things can withstand pretty much anything including mud, sand and salt water. I just toss them into the bottom of the shower and rinse them out then leave them to dry. At any rate, I pity the girls who chose to just wear flip flops today, the mud was pretty icky. After what seems like forever, we made our way to our next mode of transportation and I felt the tiniest bit of nerves nibble at the edges of my imagination.
Outrigger canoes.
Proper ones. Ones that are likely handbuilt and – while sturdy – certainly far from new, they waited bobbing for us in the water each with one guide holding them steady. Definitely felt like a jungle expedition out of a book at this point. Suddenly that seemed like an awful lot of water ahead of us. The last time I was in a canoe (other than the underground river tour) was when I was about 9 or 10 years old, and that was on a lake, not in open(ish) water, but there was no turning back. We had to wade out to the canoes, and the first kiss of the water on our skin was like stepping into a hot bath. This was not the climate for a ‘refreshing’ dip in the ocean, I swear the water was warmer than the air!
One by one we all clambered into the canoes, and – in the case of the one I was in – a small boy about the age of seven scrambled in after us. Placing himself just in front of me, with his feet braced against the edge of the canoe, he proceeded to apply himself dutifully to bailing the water out of the bottom of our craft. Yup, the canoe had a leak, but our earnest while bailer was well ahead of it. I will admit I did at one point look from the canoe towards shore and try to remember when the last time I had actually swum properly for any distance was! Honestly though, the canoe ride was lovely, I can say this because there were only three oars and there were five of us in the boat, so the task of actually paddling fell to the guide and the person sitting at the front and the rear. I was in the middle, so I was one of the two who was spoiled enough to simply enjoy the view. That said, I would have quite liked to paddle, it’s been ages since I paddled a canoe. That said, the last time I attempted such a thing I nearly ran the canoe ashore on a beaver dam…or was that my father? Oh well, it was a long time ago.
Moving on…
The canoes deposited us on a wide stretch of sandy beach. Since the tide was still out, we had a long walk ahead of us to the village, where delicious shade awaited us. At this point, I was guzzling back water, because if there’s one thing I can’t handle well it’s the heat. I knew if I could just hold out until we got under the jungle canopy I’d be fine, but I was starting to wonder if the large water bottle I’d packed with me was actually going to be enough.
Once we’d all made it to the shelter of the village, we proceeded to trek into the jungle proper. It was like entering a whole different world. The ground was red clay and slippery under our feet in places, proving that when you hike in the forest you don’t actually see the forest persay, you see the forest floor, because the second you take your eyes off the path you do a nose dive into it! But I love the woods, there’s always something around every corner. Of course, we had come to see lemurs, but while lemurs are curious creatures they are also somewhat skittish, and they certainly don’t come when called (though they will apparently come to investigate any strange sound in the area just to see what it is). Since the lemurs were not patiently sitting there waiting for us to arrive, we became fascinated by other things: a leaf-tail gecko that blends so perfectly into its surroundings that it looks like part of the tree its sitting on, the world’s tiniest chameleons that are no bigger than your little finger, and then…
My god that’s HUGE
Great. Big. Snake.
Sorry Dad.
Long story short: no, I didn’t touch it, I didn’t go anywhere near it. I took a picture of it, and then scrambled to the back of the group. I am not afraid of snakes, but that doesn’t mean I want to keep close company with one.
Besides it was about this time I was starting to get nervous. While I was gulping down water as quickly as I could, I could feel the beginnings of a headache starting to threaten behind my eyes. I ignored it, and made myself drink some more water, and continued on in search of lemurs.
Which we found! Lots of them! Staring down at us wondering why on earth we were there bothering them with cameras. SO CUTE! So, after several seasons of trying at various zoos, I have finally managed to get a photograph of a lemur. In the wild no less! HA!
Shortly after this however, as we were about to start paddling back to the mainland, the heat caught up with me. The pain lanced through my temples at full force, hitting behind my eyes and making them water. I hate crying in public, I mean I cry at everything, but I hate doing it in public, but the pain of a migraine in that kind of heat had tears springing to my eyes. While digging in my purse for my ever present bottle of super-strength advil, I found myself reciting the old mantra that my mother used to tell me when I got a ‘sick headache’ as a child.
This pain doesn’t belong to me. It doesn’t belong to me.
Thankfully, eventually the headache did go down to a dull roar, and by the time we finally got back on the bus I no longer felt like I wanted to curl up like an armadillo and hide from the sentient world.
While I was returning gradually to the world of the living, the rest of the people on the tour were looking at their watches. We were due back at the dock by 3:15 and the last tender back to the ship was supposed to be at 3:30. The ship was supposed to leave at 4:00. At 4:05 we hadn’t even boarded the bus back yet!
They can’t leave without us can they?
No…but they can be very not happy….
We made it back of course, and since it was a ship-organized tour no one got in trouble. Besides, like I said before : It was worth it!