Morondava and rhum arrange

Rhum arrange (n): the (in)famous Madagascan fruit-infused moonshine, with an alcohol content to knock your socks off.

Morondava: the location of a number of days of lounging around by the beach, staying in beautiful wooden bungalows, watching the fisherman bring in their catch, swimming, reading and relaxing.

We enjoyed the company of our new-found Japanese friends Kenta, You and Rie and their wonderful cooking habits, including charcoal-barbequed prawns and fish on the beach, and chicken hot-pot cooked inside their bungalow, out of the wind, the feathery remnants of the chicken still flying around the hotel grounds.

"When exactly are you leaving?" the bemused hotel staff asked them after they had plucked their unlucky feathered friend and attempted unsuccessfully to dispose of all of the feathers.

A Madagascan personality I won't forget in a hurry is Rasta Jean. The quietly spoken, over-relaxed rasta Malagasy owner of L'Oasis Bar and Hotel had certainly put in a lot of work on that head of dreads of his, not to mention his pot smoking habit. He'd also clearly practiced his 'legalise' song quite a lot, which he played a number of times in between the jam session of his loyal followers, all the while handing out free rhum shots to his guests in the front bar. These guests included myself and You, who had stayed in the bar long after Anna had taken a drunken Kenta home, but soon the guest numbers dwindled - especially after You took off as well, leaving me none the wiser in the bar after returning from the bathroom. So in defiance, I decided to stay, hanging out with a lovely English lass and her beautiful, dreadlocked, tall, muscly boyfriend, and convinced them to take me to the local nightclub with one of the best names ever: My Lord.

On arrival, after carving up the dance floor, attempting to dance African style, I headed to the bar and made instant friends with the bar girl by ordering a way-too-strong vodka, and a drink for her, when really I didn't need any more alcohol after all the shots of that lethal rhum that Rasta Jean had handed out.

So, my memories of the place after being behind the bar and talking to the cute guy that had followed me to the club were basically nil, and I woke up in a random house the next day, the bright sun shining in the open door, no-one around, my bag still over my shoulder. Unfortunately someone - whether it be the bar girl, the cute guy or some other random - had taken the liberty of removing all of the cash from my wallet after delivering me safely to the couch. But THANKfully, they had left me unharmed, and spared me my camera and credit cards. So everything was intact except my cash - and of course my dignity.

I stumbled around for a while, the elderly inhabitant paying me no attention, as if the sight of a disoriented vazaha woman in his house was a normal occurrence, and finally walked out into the hot sun and the local market before making my way back to concerned friends and a comfy bed.

Thank goodness Morondava was a good place to chill out for the next couple of days. I gradually got my dignity back, after a good sleep, an explanation of what I thought happened, and then those dreaded flashbacks which filled in some of the gaps. But not all of them.

Note to self: watch how much you drink on holiday.

Noted. Gratefully.

A day-trip out to sit amongst the ancient baobabs was one way to take my mind off the events of that evening. Getting there by motorbike certainly got the pulse racing, especially when the roads are not of the highest calibre, being sandy in many places, and the chances of stacking it are rather high. Anna may be a very competent rider, but the road in one place was no match for her! So over we went, luckily escaping any injuries nor damage to the bike. We visited the Baobab d'Amour, an unusual sight of two baobabs that had grown very close together and subsequently entwined themselves in each other's romantic embrace. Awwww....! Giving it an embrace of my own, I hoped that I might be more lucky in love! And of course the few hours we spent walking amongst giants, this time in the bright sunlight, was again a highlight of the trip. The Avenue really is a magical place.