After about 50 hours of traveling and numerous flight delays, I've finally made it home! As promised, I've updated all posts with some pictures. Make sure you tune into Animal Planet tonight at 8pm to watch "Madagascar: Lemurs and Spies." It was filmed at Camp 2 and features my Madagascar family, the animals and the people.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.

Salama! We are now back in the capital of Antananarivo for the final time. It's been an amazing experience, but I'm excited to fly home. I've learned a lot about this country, the people, the animals, and most importantly myself. I hope to return to Madagascar soon (but not too soon) to visit friends, see new regions, and maybe someday conduct my own research. For now though, I'll wrap up by outlining some of the things I've learned here:

1) Most things don't need to be refrigerated (meat, milk, eggs, cheese)
2) "Waterproof" doesn't really mean waterproof
3) Bananas are awesome
4) Spiders are terrifying
5) I took hot showers, clean water, and electricity for granted before
6) Bob Marley is globally appreciated
7) Patience
8) Frengasy (a combination of French, English, and Malagasy with obligatory miming)
9) I really enjoy teaching
10) An appreciation for my family and friends

Look for one final post when I'm back at home. I'll wade through the more than 2,000 pictures I have and update everything. For the last time from Mada, veloma!

Mainty Be

Salama! We are officially out of the forest indefinitely now. Our last rain forest stint was bittersweet. I'm going to miss our team a lot, but I plan on keeping in touch with them as much as possible. I have so much to update since I last posted though.

Back in early November, Erik left to return to the states for two and a half months. He is required to spend some time at the Duke Lemur Center in North Carolina, giving lectures, attending meetings, etc. Although it was a bit troubling being the only Americans around at first, Emily and I adjusted well to being in Madagascar alone. We have a lot of friends in Sambava and the surrounding villages to look after us. Now that Erik is gone though, we have a lot more responsibility. We resupply camp, make sure everything will run smoothly in our absence, pay all the salaries, handle all the money (it's a lot of money...), update the spreadsheets, and make sure all the data is backed up and safely stored away for Erik's return. It's a little nerve racking being in charge of so many things and I'm a little worried we might forget something important before we leave.

Otherwise Erik's absence, our time in Sambava during November was relatively uneventful. However, our last full day in town there was a house fire on the main road by the market. I was on my way to check my email one last time when I looked to my left and saw flames coming from the windows of a small building. A crowd was starting to gather as thick black smoke filled the street. I approached some people and asked the painfully obvious question, "Misy afo?" (Is there a fire?). They responded affirmatively. I didn't really know what to say or do after that. I doubted there was a number I could call for help or some kind of organized fire department to handle these kinds of situations. I simply responded, "Oh, ratsy be!" (Oh, very bad). A few minutes later, enough people had noticed the fire that I felt safe leaving it to some of the men who had already started getting buckets of water to put it out. I walked briskly back to the hotel and called Emily to make sure she avoided that area on her way home. I have to admit, it was all an exciting change from the monotony of data entry and vocalization editing. It was also nice not to be the center of attention as I walked down the street. Everyone's eyes were on the fire and not me for a change. You'll be happy to know that nobody was hurt as well.

We left Sambava the following morning, about one hour after the results from the presidential election were official. The staff at our hotel were happy about the re-election; everyone around here really loves Obama. We then made our usual hike back up to Camp 2. We needed 30 porters to carry all the food we had bought for the month. After we spent one night back at Camp 2, we trekked the next two days to the Summit with Manitra, the master's student from Tana, and Razaka, the public librarian from Manantenina. As I mentioned before, our plan was to see the sunrise on the 9th. On the 8th we walked to Camp 3 and rested for the long and difficult hike in the morning. We left Camp 3 around 2 AM on the 9th and walked through the jungle with our headlamps. It was rough. My mantra was, "one foot in front of the other." The whole last hour I hummed that song from "Santa Claus is Coming to Town," the Christmas clamation movie from 1970. Sometime around 3:30 AM, while I stumbled over rocks and crawled on my hand and knees, my light went out. It was only for a minute or two, but during that time I looked up and saw thousands of stars. That was the motivation I needed to continue. The sky was clear so we would be able to see the view from the top and all our efforts would be rewarded. Sometimes people make it all the way up there only to have clouds blocking everything. We beat the sun to the top and sat down around 4:30 AM to wait for it to rise. It was cold. Hanover winter cold. And the wind didn't make it any better. The vast expanse of mountainous rain forest that revealed itself made it all worth it though. Completely untouched and unexplored mountains for hundreds of miles. I think even trying to articulate what we witnessed that morning would do it a huge injustice. The colors in the sky as the sun crept over the few clouds in the distance were breathtaking. I need to upload some pictures when I have more reliable Internet. Then I think you will understand. Emily and I made a pact to come back to the Summit when we are 44, exactly twice our age now. Overall it took us three days to hike around 20 km. Although this doesn't sound like much in three days, you have to remember that it was all uphill, quite literally. We were using ropes to scale almost vertical rock faces on more than one occasion. I couldn't walk the next day, but I'm so glad we decided to go. It was definitely the best experience I've had in Madagascar thus far, although a close second would be hearing the Indri call in Andasibe.

 

Emily and me on the summit

After our summit adventure, we continued our work. It was the same old stuff, scent-marking research and vocalization recordings. Forest time is slow time though.

We didn't have too many surprises. There were interesting tourists here and there (including a bird enthusiast from San Fransisco, a CNN travel anchor, two English guys that reminded me of Dumb and Dumber in the best ways possible, and a UPenn student who grew up less than an hour from my home). Then there were always the critters that scared me half to death thanks to the spider incident in July. I rely on being blissfully naive and ignorant about them all. One day I saw a centipede scurrying across our floor. Centipedes wouldn't be too scary, except for the fact that they are incredibly fast and extremely poisonous. One bite on the foot and you won't walk for at least three days. In my terror, I ran out of the bungalow and down to get Emily. By the time we returned, broom stick in hand, it had moved out of sight (probably waiting in one of our bags for one of us to reach in looking for socks or something). We couldn't find it though and decided to pretend we had never seen it. Blissfully naive. I'm not going to lie, I didn't sleep much that night. Unless you are a small child, there is nothing that can kill you in Marojejy. There are many of things that cause a lot of pain, but they are rarely if ever encountered. We only had to be aware of scorpions, said centipedes, and two poisonous spiders. Like I said before though, blissfully naive.

I still don't know what this is, but it wasn't welcome on my shoe

 We've also started yet another side project that will be ongoing for years to come. Around the middle of November Jackson, another park guide and member of the Simpona support team, came up to camp. His mission was to take pictures of both babies. We plan on devising a way to quantify pigment loss over time. Silkies are unique compared to most other primates and mammals because they lose pigmentation in their skin as they age, especially on the face and hands. Kris, the oldest baby in our group who is five months old now, is already starting to show some depigmentation around his mouth. Every two months Jackson will go up to Camp 2 to take pictures of the babies as they develop. The pictures will then be analyzed to chart depigmentation rate. Hopefully this will help the scientific community understand why this is happening. Some people suspect vitiligo (the same disease Michael Jackson claimed to have), but nobody is sure. Jackson (the guide, not the pop star) stayed until the end of November and got some good pictures that I'm sure will be the first steps to understanding this phenomenon.

The food didn't change at all. Seraphin got a little creative with his bean recipes though. Our favorite was white beans made with coconut. However, we did have a pretty severe mouse problem during our last month. They ate everything including bottles of soy sauce and vegetable oil. They left their traces everywhere too. Hardly a day went by that I didn't see Seraphin picking mouse poop out of our rice. Blissfully naive. This problem curtailed though when a Madagascar tree boa moved into our kitchen with about two weeks left. We named him Frank and he became our "namana be" (best friend).

Frank

Around the same time Jackson came up, lychee season started. If you don't already know, lychees are a type of fruit that are harvested like crazy here in November and December. I had tasted lychee flavored things before in the states, but I had never actually eaten one. They look like dried out strawberries and you peel off the rough outer skin to reveal the white, almost opaque fruit inside. Once the skin is removed, it kind of looks like a small jellyfish without the tentacles. You can eat the whole thing, except for the pit which is oblong, smooth, and dark brown. Gerlain told me you can make chocolate from the seeds, but I'm not sure if he was lying. That's a common theme here. Everyone jokes around so much, you're never sure if they are telling the truth. All in all I would say a lychee tastes like a sweet plum. We would go through hundreds in just a few days.

Lychee

The weather was so so. Some days it would be hot and sunny, but other times it would rain for a week straight. The rain made everything one hundred times worse. It's hard to be enthusiastic and eager about going into the forest when you know you will just have to stand in the rain for seven hours straight. The rain also exponentially increased the number of leeches we had to peel off our bodies. Emily holds the record with 38 in one day. My own personal record is a meager 26, but that's fine by me. We also had our first thunder storm. It was more like heat lightening than anything else, but there is something calming about being secluded in the middle of a rain forest with nothing more than some light rain, sporadic thunder, and a few frogs to lull you to sleep.

We threw a "party" in camp for Thanksgiving as well. On November 22nd, Emily and I took off from work and helped Seraphin cook something of a feast. Seraphin made his usual rice and beans, with some dried fish thrown in there for a little flare. Emily and I pulled out all the food we had been saving for a special occasion. It was carbs on carbs on carbs. We were able to make mac and cheese, popcorn, carrots with garlic and onions, cucumber salad with vinegar, cheddar garlic herb mashed potatoes, crepes, and biscuits slathered with peanut butter and nutella (those were a big hit). Considering we cooked everything with charcoal and it took about five hours to finish, I was pretty proud of the results. We stayed up late (8pm, oh boy) and listened to Christmas music after dinner. I had enough battery left on my iPod to get through a good portion of my Christmas playlist. "Last Christmas" by Jimmy Eat World got everyone dancing around the kitchen. I missed my family a lot, but considering the circumstances, I think we made the best of it.

Thanksgiving dinner

Our last day of data collection was a rough one, both physically and emotionally. I was on vocalization duty that day, but for some reason our equipment decided to be fickle with its battery life. It made getting good recordings very difficult. We were also in the bad part of their homerange where the trails are few and challenging. This was only made worse by the fact that when you carry the vocalization equipment, you only have one hand free to save yourself from falling. The rule since July has been, "if your butt doesn't touch the ground, it doesn't count." I think I only fell about three times our last day. Pretty impressive considering we sacrificed our bodies on a regular basis to save the thousands of dollars worth of equipment. I did get some pretty nasty bruises though. As much as I wanted to head back to camp to nurse my many wounds, it was hard saying goodbye to the silkies one last ime. They really did become part of our Madagascar family, each one with their own personality. The last one I caught a glimpse of was Kris, the five month old. He was hopping back and forth between his mother and the new baby yet to be named from October. He had grown so much since we first saw him when he was just over a week old in July. I will really miss them all. They made my job easy. I didn't mind watching them for hours on end. A combination of their majestic appearance and entertaining antics always made long work days go much quicker.

Our last dinner with the team was somber. We were all a little nostalgic and in awe of how fast the last five months had went. Our goodbyes were teary, but I'm confident we will stay in touch. Walking down the mountain and out of the park was surreal. We knew the hike almost by heart, and it was strange thinking we may never travel it again. I welcomed the cold Coca Cola and a hot shower when we finally reached Sambava though.

We will be working here in town until December 13th. We have over 30 hours of vocalization editing to do, not to mention the countless loose ends we have to tie up before we leave for Tana. Once in the capital, we will spend two nights taking in the last bit of Madagascar. Emily and I plan on visiting an orphanage just outside the city limits. One of the tourists who came up in August runs it. He's originally from New Jersey as well, so we naturally bonded. Be on the look out for one last post from Mada sometime on December 15th. Until then, veloma!

Ready for endless hours of editing

Salama! Sorry that I've been a little bit absent lately. Our last trip to Sambava about two weeks ago was busy with work. We entered and updated our scent marking data and spent the bulk of our time down here analyzing and editing the vocalization recordings. I was a bit too busy to devote the multiple hours it always takes me to write these updates on a French keyboard. Anyway though, our last two forest stints were full of drama and a few surprises.

In early October we returned to camp and had to bid farewell to Babazy and Guy for the final time. Erik sent them to Makira, a fragmented and highly disturbed patch of isolated forest father south. They will stay at the research station there, monitoring another group of silkies until late December. Emily and I were both distraught to see them go. Addresses were exchanged, hugs were given, and tears were shed. They will really be missed. I hope to come back to this area to visit them someday. A little fun fact though, Babazy has no last name. He's just like Cher! MR. BABAZY was the only thing written on his plane ticket. It was awesome.

MR. BABAZY

 Besides our teary goodbyes though, our return to camp was really exciting. To our surprise, BP, the second adult female in our habituated group, had given birth to a new baby sometime during the night of October 5th. This is extremely rare. Most sifaka births are in June or July because their mating season is strictly dictated by photoperiods. Females only go into estrus for one day a year, and for the baby to be born two and a half months late is really strange. We are consulted some experts on this phenomenon. The new baby is yet to be sexed or named, but Erik says if we come back to Madagascar in May to finish the project, then we get the honor of naming it. Very tempting, indeed.

The new baby on BP's stomach

Data collection in the forest is the same old stuff. We conduct our scent marking research and record vocalizations when the conditions permit (no rain, no background noise, the animals aren't too high in the tree, etc.). Vocalization duty is incredibly boring sometimes though. You have to stand with the mic as close to their mouth as possible and then just wait for them to make a sound. Everyone has to be completely silent as well, which is really hard when you have a whole research team trying to maneuver through the thick understory. Its almost impossible to not rustle leaves as you fight your way through the trail. The quiet also makes work days in the forest go much slower. In addition, we have to hike with all the vocalization equipment in a giant backpack. I had trouble getting my long limbs under fallen trees before, but add the "zazamena" backpack and I'm basically crawling though the dirt. "Zazamena" means baby by the way, or literally "red child." We call it that because who ever carries it must be extremely careful since the equipment is really expensive. It's like you're carrying a new born baby. Otherwise that though, data collection is continuing without any issues. The results look like they will be very interesting as well.

Carrying the "zazamena" backpack

We've also had a lot of tourists come through this past month. Almost everyday we meet somebody new. Emily and I have stereotyped them into four basic categories: 1) The older couple. These tourists are usually over fifty and spend only a couple days in the park. They are normally French, but sometimes we meet older English couples too. Most of the time they don't hike up past camp two, and only come out to see the silkies for about an hour. 2) The lone trekker. There are a fair share of people who never go out to see the lemurs, but spend about four days in the park trekking to the summit. As I mentioned in an earlier post, Marojejy Massif is one of the highest points in the country. They usually travel alone and are some of the nicest people with the most interesting stories. 3) The crazy photographer. These people are usually insane, and that's an understatement. They spend full days out in the forest with us trying to nail that one perfect shot. The number of stories I have about these kinds of tourists...Once I stood in a pandanus, a palm-like tree with sharp and painful spines, for about two hours while I made room for a swarm of Spanish photographers (this is the Spanish Invasion Part III). By the time I could move again my arms looked like I was attacked by a tiger. 4) The younger crowd. We definitely get a lot of people our age traveling together. Sometimes its couples, sometimes its small groups of friends. This is the tourist group that is probably the most diverse though. They almost always leave us books, food, or at least their email addresses. I have quite a stack of contact information in case I'm ever in London, Dublin, or any number of other cities around the world. So far our tourist tally includes people from the USA, France, Switzerland, Holland, Germany, Spain, Czech Republic, the UK, Ireland, Saudi Arabia, Scotland, England, and Sweden. As annoying as tourists can be sometimes (they always use all the toilet paper!), its really neat to meet so many different people. Some of them lead really fascinating lives. One guy from London grew up in Italy, and had previously lived in Ireland, Germany, and Australia. He trekked to the summit in about two days. We discussed everything from philosophy (this is what he studied in school) to American politics to the cost and benefits of backpacking through Sweden. This is still just the beginning of peak tourist season too so I'm sure we will meet so many more people during our final stay in the park.

We go back up on November 7th, as soon as the presidential election is over in the states. We will spend our first three days back in Marojejy hiking to the summit. We plan on being at the top of the massif to see the sunrise on November 9th. Rumor has it you can see the Indian Ocean from the top on a clear day. We will then spend a full month in the park, and plan on coming back down sometime during the first week of December. It's bitter sweet to have have only about six weeks left in this country. I'm excited to see friends and family soon, but I'm really looking forward to the comforts of western civilization, especially a refrigerator, clean water, and carpets (yes, carpets).

Emily and I ready to take on the Summit

Will update again around December 10th, veloma!

Salama! We are currently still in Antananarivo.We took an extra three days here to sort out our ticket home in December. We are due to fly back to Sambava on the October 3rd. It may have only been less than two weeks since my last post, but so much has happened since then. I guess I'll take you through it in chronological order. That seems to make the most sense anyway.

A view of Tana during one of our exploratory walks

 We flew to Tana on September 23rd and the following day we took a trip to Andasibe, as I have mentioned before. We visited a total of four parks, and saw five different lemur species, various chameleons, frogs, geckos, and even a Madagascar tree boa. You'll be happy to know that we also saw the Indri, three separate times in fact. They are amazing primates. We got up early on our second day there to be underneath them during their morning song. It can be heard from over two kilometers away, and being someone who is truly captivated by animals, I can say that it was life-changing. Anybody who ever comes to Madagascar must take a trip to hear this loud, eerie vocalization. We also took a night walk through the rain forest and saw woolly lemurs and a mouse lemur that could have fit in the palm of my hand. It was truly adorable.

Indri or "babakoto" in Andasibe

There were only two things I didn't like about Andasibe: 1) The drive there and back was awful. It wasn't too long, only about three and a half hours, but it was all on one of the most winding roads I have ever been on. Not to mention the giant trucks cruising at probably about seventy miles per hour around these tight turns. I thought I was going to die on more than one occasion. 2) The national park itself was nothing like Marojejy. Unlike Andasibe, Marojejy is pristine primary rain forest. It really made me appreciate the experience I am getting up in the north. The trails in Andasibe were well worn, and the animals completely consumed by the flashes of tourist cameras. We make sure that tourists don't use flash at our site, and it was hard watching a group of diademed sifakas be surround by at least forty tourists within touching distance. That's not the way we are supposed to observe nature. My small rant aside though, I truly enjoyed my time there and definitely recommend it for any tourists who may have trouble getting to some of the parks that are more difficult to access. You get to see a lot of animals in a short amount of time.

Diademed Sifaka with a baby in Andsibe

After Andasibe we went to Mauritius for about four days. The island is absolutely stunning. I have about one hundred pictures of some of the most beautiful sunsets I'm sure I will ever witness. Unfortunately, I couldn't fully enjoy my time there as I was sick. The hallucinations that I mentioned in the last post had gotten too bad and I needed to switch my malaria medication. It took a while for my body to adjust, but everything has worked out now, after spending a small fortune on malarone.  Mauritus is an island that completely caters to tourists from France, England, and the states. This being said, we obviously spent a lot of time shopping to resupply on needed western luxuries such as snickers and allergy medication. Super U is the best store for buying all these things. It's equivalent to Walmart, but on some serious steroids. I also spent a lot of time just sitting on the beach.

The sunset from the beach in Mauritius

 One particular afternoon as I admired a couple of finches digging around in the sand, a man with a guitar came up to me and started speaking in French. Most people here just assume that you're French, but I replied with my usual pleasantries. He then asked if I enjoyed music. Obviously this is a resounding yes, and he then serenaded me on the beach. This may sound kind of creepy, but it was actually a really great experience. He was kind and we made small talk. His name was "Rastaman" Richard and I actually really enjoyed his music. Think acoustic reggae. Anyway, he gave me a CD, signed of course ("Dedicated to Meagan, by your best friend Richard," complete with the date and a cell number in case I wanted to book him at a venue). He then said I had the "reggae philosophy" and thanked me for giving him some time. Apparently most tourists just brush him off. Richard was a little intimidating at first, but getting past the lack of front teeth wasn't hard after he started singing. Anyway, he's on facebook if you are interested. My best friend, "Rastaman" Richard.

"Rastaman" Richard

Right now Emily and I are living it up in Tana with milkshakes, pizza, and television. Things we won't have again until December. We've also went out with some peace corps volunteers here and met a pair of Marines from the US Embassy. Its so nice to talk to Americans. You can't even imagine how hard it is with the language barrier sometimes. Although I can communicate pretty well with Malagasy now, supplementing with French as needed. Malagasy is a beautifully poetic language I think. For instance, a river is called "renyrano" or literally "mother of water."

One last thing before I go, my height makes my interactions with some people here unbearably awkward. I've caught people taking a picture of me on more than one occasion. On the plane to Mauritius, a couple of older people even went so far as to have me pose for pictures with them. The tallest person in that group reached about my elbow, not a joke. I often hear the word "lavabe" (very tall) whispered as I walk by, to which I usually respond, "marina" or "its true." That aside though, the people in this country are some of the kindest I have ever met, and they help make being away from home less painful.

We will be up in the forest on October 5th, and plan on coming back down about two weeks later. It's peak tourist season right now so I'm excited to get back up there and meet some new and interesting people. I will update again around the middle of October, veloma!

Salama!

I am now back in Sambava. Our last visit to town was short, but pretty eventful. We spent a total of three days down here, five if you count travel days to and from Marojejy. Although most of that time was spent learning how to work the vocalization equipment, we also got some time to ourselves.

The vocalization equipment isn't too hard to master, but it does require some practice. We spent about four hours testing our skills on the seven new puppies at Erik's hotel on the beach. They were only one day old and the first sounds of life are fascinating. We downloaded them onto the computer and looked at all kinds of audio-techno-mumbo-jumbo.

The new puppies at Erik's hotel

 We also saw a herd of about fifty zebu, basically Malagasy cattle, crossing the river to the town. Erik came running into the Internet place here one afternoon and all he said to us was, "Come quick, I've been waiting for this moment for three years!" We promptly paid our bill and hopped into a waiting cab. It was an amazing site as we pulled up to the beach. A handful of men in canoes were responsible for driving all the zebu across the water. We took plenty of pictures, especially since Erik told us the BBC crew had spent weeks trying to get the shot, and never did.

Zebu crossing

We also went out with Bob and Jean, the older Peace Corps volunteers living in Sambava. Although hitting the town with an older couple may not seem like a party, Bob and Jean can certainly keep up. In fact, I was the one trying to keep up with them. We went out for pizza as well, a decrepit old building with little more than "Pizzeria" written on the side. However, I kid you not when I say this  was some of the best pizza I have ever had. I'm not sure if this is because it was actually tasty or if I'm so deprived of American staples that anything even resembling pizza is heavenly. I suspect the latter though.

Since I'm writing about food anyway, Emily and I have fallen in love with the ice cream at our hotel. As I mentioned before, our hotel has one of the best restaurants in town. This ice cream though is just out of this world. Again, I'm not sure if its really good or I just haven't had ice cream in over two months. One thing is for sure, I'll be getting that caramel flavor tonight. One more story about food though before I get to the forest. We spent our last night in Sambava devouring the ripest, sweetest, and most delicious pineapple. We didn't have a good knife, but we stood on Emily's porch cutting it with a little pocket knife I packed just in case. I think it tasted better because we had to work so hard to eat it. The juice was everywhere though. We even invited the watchman at the hotel to come join us. He did, along with another hotel employee. Winning friends with pineapple. I'm done writing about food now.

Back to the forest. It took us a couple extra hours to get back up to Marojejy this time around. Saed, the same goat entrepreneur from last week's post, brought us to the park office where we normally start our seven mile hike. Unfortunately, his taxi broke down a few miles outside of Sambava. He fixed it himself in about fifteen minutes, only to get a flat tire about ten miles down the road. Rough start. We finally reached the park office, paid porters, and started our hike around ten in the morning. Turns out, it is hard on your body to hike down only to come back up three days later. Let's just say we took our time. We also visited Babazy's family as we walked through Mandena, the last village before the park entrance. Babazy is doing well, he has a new job building a sustainable charcoal factory next to the public library. When I say factory though, I mean its a small shack where they will teach villagers to use resources more efficiently. He told us that it only took two weeks to build. He walked with us for the first couple miles, catching up a bit. He was delighted to learn the new vocabulary words "duck," "goose," and "puppy" as we walked along the now familiar trek.

Babazy and me

Nothing new to report from the forest though. We've really expanded our project, and spent all four days GPS-ing intergroup encounter locations, continuing our scent marking research, recording vocalizations, and collecting fecals. While up there though, I started having the weirdest hallucinations in the early morning from the malaria medication. I might have to switch medications pretty soon, I'll miss the vivid dreams though. But these hallucinations are bad news bears. One morning I woke up at four only to see a mongoose eating my toothpaste. I woke up Emily and she said that there was no mongoose there. I've also seen giant cricket/spiders that glow in the dark, and was confused one morning when I watched the duct tape on my wall turn into a TV screen. Woah. I'm sure I'll keep you updated on this too.

Anyway, I was excited to find two packages from my family waiting for me in my hotel room. It was like Christmas over here. Emily and I were so excited as we carefully opened each package. We now have enough spices to last us a lifetime. Bring on the beans and rice! The cards and pictures were especially endearing. Thank you!

We will be in Sambava until tomorrow, when we get on a plane to fly to Tana. In Tana we will meet Manitra, a master's student at the University of Antananarivo. He will be joining us for the remainder of our time here. We will then spend two days in Andasibe to see the indri (probably my favorite lemur/animal/organism ever, if you get a chance, youtube their "songs"). Then its back to Tana, Mauritius for four days, and back to Sambava on September 30th. I will hopefully get a chance to update you when we return here then. Veloma!

Akory e!

I am  currently back in Sambava for a couple days. Erik sent us a letter on the ninth saying he wanted us to come down early to work with the vocalization equipment and do some research. We are now expanding our project to include fecal collection. As glamorous as this sounds, its important because we plan on sending about thirty five samples to Cornell University to investigate any endoparasites. Before we finish collection in October though, we need to read up on some of the parasite literature in town.

I've experienced a lot since mid-August. As I mentioned before, we spent our last stay in Sambava entering data and shopping to resupply camp. I think I've finally mastered the exchange from Ariary to USD, and its amazing what you can buy here for so little money. Since pineapples are a staple in our diet, we spent the greater majority of shopping time scouring the town to buy as many as we could. We bought fifteen pineapples for the equivalent price of about five dollars. It was glorious.

We stayed in Sambava one extra day to do a special task for Erik. Every Sunday there is local boxing called "morengy" and everyone in town gets dressed up to watch. We went with Saed, a taxi driver and goat entrepreneur who helps us out from time to time. Erik wanted us to attend the fight in order to take pictures and videotape some matches. He also thought it would be good to take in a little bit of the culture.

Morengy

Morengy is almost nothing like American boxing, and as rough as the following description may sound, it was actually really fun. Around four in the afternoon Saed picked us up and brought us to what looked like any other street in Sambava. We walked down a side alley and payed 2,000 Ar (1 USD) to enter a large outdoor clearing where a crowd had started to gather. Over a loud speaker it sounded like a radio personality was heckling some of the audience members, but I wasn't sure because it was all in Malagasy. There is apparently no set schedule for the matches, and anyone can just jump into the ring, fists up and walking around, until someone accepts the challenge. There is a referee, usually an older man with a whistle, but he doesn't get involved too often. Once a match has been set up, the fighters dance around, throwing punches and kicking until someone is knocked to the ground. Most blows are missed in the fury, but when they do make contact it looks incredibly painful. This is probably a good time to mention that some of the Malagasy men here are literally just solid muscle. Anyway, if any of the fights are actually planned, its the last one, where the reigning champions from two towns will go head-to-head. The Sambava champion was taller than all the other fighters and he wore a black sweat suit. Its customary for the audience members to offer the fighters money as a tip if they put on a good show. The violence aside, all this combined makes it a really exciting experience.

The champion of Sambava, Joblahy Mangilatra

 We made the trek back up to Marojejy the following day and it only took us about six hours, four hours of walking. The guide who brought us was a local botanist who basically sprinted up the mountain. I was disappointed when we returned and had to replace Babazy with Gerlan, a more experienced guide who recently got back from a survey mission. As sad as I was to see Babazy go, we welcomed Gerlan and he picked up animal identification pretty quickly. Although Babazy was my best Malagasy friend in the forest, Gerlan and I have bonded as well. He is about thirty years old and has a new baby on the way, the due date is this week actually. Sometimes he starts walking the 11 km back to the village to visit his family after we work all day in the forest. He gets up at two in the morning to walk back (and I thought my commute to NYC was bad...). Gerlan also speaks English very well, and as with Babazy, I've developed a real passion for teaching him new words and phrases. Long days in the forest are spent going over vocabulary, usually in broken French when the words are too hard to mime. Our entire team now yells "LV is nomming" instead of "LV is feeding." Gerlan also really enjoys music and sometimes during the hours before dinner we will turn on the radio (being on top of a mountain, we get pretty good reception). Once in a blue moon the local radio station will play popular songs from the US that made it all the way here. I got a little nostalgic about college life while blasting "Starships" one night.

The rest of the team is doing fine as well. Everybody has been given a nickname, including Seraphin who we affectionately call "Pumba" because he has identical teeth. My nickname is "vary fotsy" or white rice. I'll let your imagination run wild with all the possible reasons I was given that name.

We have had many tourists come through camp as well. For two days we had a group of fifteen Spanish people living with us, a time we now refer to as "the Spanish invasion." Joel, the peace corps volunteer, also came up with a group of students from Sambava. In an effort to promote environmental education, these students are sponsored by the Duke Lemur Center and given the unique opportunity to visit Marojejy and learn about its amazing wildlife. Many of these children would have never seen the park because, although entrance fees are only about fifty cents a day, many cannot afford the cost. We took them to see our habituated group of silkies, and the looks on their faces when they witnessed the sifakas moving effortlessly through the forest canopy proves that education is an important key to successful conservation.

The food is the same, good old rice and beans. However, I have made it my personal mission to try as many fruits here as possible, and I have developed quite a love for bananas and tangerines. As I said last time, the food here is actually really good, although one night I had to switch plates because I had gecko poop all over mine (#rainforestproblems).

The only thing that was really different this time around was all the rain. Things seem to never dry and you can see the moisture in the air at night. We probably only had a few sunny days the whole time we were up there. We had one day that was particularly long and challenging. It had been raining for about three days straight and it was down pouring on our hike up the mountain in the morning. We called for Nestor and Janvier, but there was no answer. As weird as this was, we continued upward another twenty minutes and tried to call them again. They answered back with one hoot, which means they had lost the animals. We hiked back down and began searching for them. When we finally found the group, they were separated, which we thought was odd. As we watched our focals, the group slowly started to assimilate again, except for MS who hadn't been seen all day. We spent any free time we had searching for her, especially since she is only about one year old and too young to start exploring the forest by herself. Given that the group had moved in the middle of the night and they were separated in the morning, we feared that they had been attacked and she had been killed by a fosa. Fosa are the largest predators in Madagascar. They are carnivorous and resemble big cats, although they are in a different family from felines. If you've never seen a fosa, google it immediately. A fosa can hunt on the ground, in the trees, during night, and during day, which makes it a very dangerous predator, especially for young lemurs like MS. Unfortunately, she was still missing when we got back to camp that day. We reluctantly started to make plans to go out on a special mission to find her remains so we could do a taphonomic study. Dinner was really somber that night, Janvier was almost in tears as we discussed what to do next. We decided that we would wait three days, and if she wasn't back by then, we would assume the worst and start searching for her body. The following day though, we heard her lost call (a vocalization similar to a cooing dove, although much louder) and by about noon she had found the others. That was a rough twenty-four hours though.

Mena Sako or MS

A fosa at the zoo in Tana

 On an unrelated and more personal note, I think my experiences here so far have really changed me. I've learned a lot from working closely with people who sacrifice so much and work so hard to support their families. I also have a lot of free time to just think. As exciting and full of adventure as the forest can be, it can also be very boring. Sometimes the group will be sleeping and all I can do is stand there and wait for the sifakas to wake up. During these times I often find myself thinking about family, friends, or what beans we are going to have for dinner as I stare off into some of the most majestic scenery I'm sure I will ever see. I relish in those long hours I get to spend just reflecting. I think I have found a new perspective on both my personal and professional life. Sometimes I feel like a modern Henry David Thoreau. I now understand that research, learning, teaching, and conservation all go hand-in-hand, and I plan on dedicating my life to these endeavors. I think people who knew me well before this experience will recognize how much I've grown when I come back in December. I like to think I've matured, without losing sight of who I am and what I'm passionate about.

Anyway, enough with the seriousness, you should expect another update when I come back down next week. At the end of September we fly to Mauritius for a little vacation to renew our visas. Mauritius is rumored to have some of the most beautiful beaches in the world, so I'm happy to be spending some time there. Until then though, veloma!

Salama from Sambava!

Now I have the very difficult task of trying to put into eloquent words all of the experiences that I've had over the last month. I've outlined how I'm going to try to get everything in here countless times, but I'm sure that I will miss some things. Let me first start out by introducing our team.

Our team (l'equipe) comprises a total of seven people, plus Erik who we don't see very often because he coordinates things in Sambava most of the time; he's a very busy man with projects all over the SAVA region. The team has two trackers, two guides, a cook, and then Emily and I who pretty much run the show up at Camp 2. It is frightening to think that I am someones boss. Anyway, I'll start with Nestor who we affectionately call "the spirit of the mountain." He's the oldest of the group, and has been working as a silky tracker since at least 1998. He speaks absolutely no English, except for the odd phrase like "come here." Most of the time he is miming to us, trying in to get us to understand what he is saying. Nestor also speaks very little French, but for some reason I seem to understand what he's trying to communicate to me most of the time. Then there is Guy, a very experienced guide, who speaks the most English out of all of them. He's probably one of the most caring individuals I have ever met. I would trust him with my life, and often do (but more on that later).  He is also one of the best whistlers I have ever met and frequently calls back to whatever bird may be singing overhead. In fact, the first week we were up in Marojejy he caught a bird. He was whistling to it and it just flew right into his hand, probably one of the craziest things I have ever seen.  One particular time he was whistling "Barbie Girl" by Aqua, and sure enough our whole team joined in. Janvier is our other tracker. He is quiet, but a jokester. He knows more English than he lets on. His most uttered phrase is "cool," but in a Malagasy accent and followed by a thumbs up. Babazy is the final guide and definitely tries the hardest to do well. He is new to working with Erik and he isn't as experienced, but he has the biggest heart. Often when I'm alone in the forest and I'm not sure where the rest of our team is I will yell out "ohhhh, Babazayyy!" To which he will reply either "ohhhh, Meaganayyyy!" or "Iyam here." From there I can pretty much follow his voice until I find someone again. We work in teams of three in the forest, one tracker, one guide, and one researcher. My team is Nestor and Babazy. Its pretty hilarious working with the most senior and junior members. Often Nestor is above everyone with the best view, as Babazy strains to see the animals at the base of the tree, while I'm usually stuck somewhere in the middle of them. Seraphin is our cook, and he works wonders with beans and rice. There is something truly poetic about a cook with no teeth. He also speaks little to no English, but I can communicate with him in French, my Malagasy is also coming along quite well. He also likes to communicate with us in animal noises. I can't even count how many times he has meowed as he walks past our bungalow to say goodnight or good morning (hey, Jenna).

Taken after our hike up, from left to right: Babazy, me, Seraphin, Guy, and Emily

 Next I want to quickly write about the safakas who I have gotten to know so well over the last month. First there is AF (Antenna Female), who is the oldest female. The best way to describe her is regal, and she does have a new baby that was born a couple days before I arrived in the country. The infant is yet to be named, but it is absolutely adorable and getting bigger everyday.  BP (Black Face Pink Hands) is the only other adult female, she's not very nice actually. We get to know all their different personalities because we watch them so often. Not a day goes by when she doesn't assert her authority over one of the juveniles. LV (Lahy Voa, means "new male") is the breeding male in the group. It is common in camp to say "LV dia lefaka" or "LV is crazy." He is by far the hardest to follow because he is so vigilant. The oldest juvenile is MB (Mainty Be, means "Very Black"). He has the darkest pelage of them all and is pretty easy to identify once you get the hang of it. The final male juvenile is WM (William, named by a donor). He is by far the biggest attention seeker of them all. When he was an infant he was featured on a BBC documentary narrated by the one and only David Attenborough. We get a lot of tourist from the UK that come and specifically ask to see William; he's kind of a nature documentary celebrity I guess. Finally there is the youngest juvenile, and my favorite, MS (Mena Sako, means "Red Chin"). She is tiny and adorable. I can tell each one part even from a considerable distance; they've kind of become our extending family out there.

AF with her baby Kris who was named in October

BP

LV

MB

WM

MS with her mother

Next I'll quickly take you through a day in my life when I'm working in the park. We wake up at 6am and I usually start my day by checking my shoes for scorpions. Next I'll usually tell Emily about whatever dream I had the night before. The malaria medication I am taking gives me the most vivid and detailed dreams. I can't even begin to explain them. One was a cross between Harry Potter and the Lion King, if they all lived in a lava lamp. Anyway, one particular morning after the ritualistic scorpion check, I was traumatized by a spider that I found on the top bunk. We've now named this episode "the spider incident." As I was reaching for my sweatshirt one morning to go up to breakfast, my eyes were greeted by the legs of the biggest spider I have ever seen. I jumped into Emily's bed and we called Seraphin until he came to save us. "Seraphin, aidez-moi! Valo tongotra (eight legs)!" We didn't know how to say spider at that time. He came down and gingerly removed it for us. We still greet Seraphin in the morning with "Tsi nisy foako andrany" (there was no spider today). I can now say that I have a mild spider phobia, and unfortunately the middle of the rain forest is not the place to realize this. The number of times I perform something of a cross between epilepsy and kung fu after I get a face full of spider webs is staggering. Anyway, after a breakfast of left-over rice and beans from the night before, we start our morning commute which is a hike into the forest up steep slopes that can last anywhere from fifteen minutes to an hour and a half. The trackers leave at 4am to find the animals; we call to them by hooting loudly. They hoot back twice to say they have found them and based on where we hear the hooting from, we make our way through the jungle.

Our bungalow

 We spend about seven hours in the forest a day. The terrain is incredibly steep at times. We learned the phrases "tandramo" (be careful) and "moramora" (slowly) very quickly. There are countless stories from the forest, but I'll summarize some of the best ones here. I think the most memorable moment was when I got a leech in my eyeball. Yes, there are leeches here, many in fact. It is a good day if I can go all seven hours with no more than a few leeches crawling on me. They are small, but tend to penetrate socks and have the unfortunate habit of migrating toward your eyes. Anyway, I was lucky I had my contacts in that day. I just took my contact out, had Emily peel the leech off it, then I popped it right back in and kept going. The number of unique animals we see every day is amazing. If you love animals and you ever get a chance to visit Madagascar, you absolutely should. We've seen four different species of lemurs, countless birds that can be found nowhere else in the world, leaf-tailed geckos, many different chameleons, a mongoose that makes its home under our kitchen, and so so so much more. The biodiversity that can be supported in primary forest is just amazing.

A leech

I'd like to now devote a short paragraph in describing how tough the terrain is. I kid you not, the hike up in the morning is comparable to 300s testing for field hockey. And that is on the main trail. You can't even imagine how hard the off-trail is, which is where we are most of the time. It's incredibly difficult at times, to the point where we can't even travel through the jungle and we have to take the long way around a river or cliff. Days spent in the forest are long and hard, but all difficulties aside, they are well worth it to see these beautiful animals that may well be extinct within my generation if something isn't done to save them.

The main trail going up to the silkies' home range

 We return to camp around 2pm every day, at which point I take a cold shower. I think shower is too loose of a term though. The bathroom facilities in camp consist of a small wooden hut with a tin roof. There is a faucet at about waist height connected to a hose that takes water from the river. Next door is the toilet, which is actually pretty modern, although it has no seat. Emily and I kill time before dinner by playing card games, doing the crossword puzzles that my grandmother so graciously cut out of the newspaper before I left (thank you!), and reading. Dinner is at around 6pm and usually consists of rice, beans, and maybe a vegetable if we are lucky. Although the food selection can be dismal at times, Seraphin really knows how to make something out of nothing. The fruit here though is absolutely ridiculous. Mananasy (pineapples) are a staple for me. The fruit here is just out of this world, I honestly can't say it enough. Fridays and Tuesdays we get pasta, which is a really big deal. Sometimes Seraphin will boil these purple potatoes that can be found in the local village, only about a 9km walk away. The first time I had the ovy voloparasy (purple potatoes), it was pretty surreal. It dawned on me about half way through the plate that I was in the middle of the rain forest in Madagascar, sitting around a table with five Malagasy men, eating purple potatoes (that taste pretty similar to sweet potatoes actually). They literally look like somebody chopped up Barney and put him on a plate. The strange colors and names aside though, the food here is pretty good and I've grown quite partial to rice. People here drink ranampango (rice water) after every meal. It is exactly as it sounds, the left over water from boiling rice, and it actually isn't that bad. We go to bed here around 8pm at the latest. Rise with the sun, set with the sun. I'm actually the most rested I've ever been.

The "shower"

We get one day off every week, and we usually spend it doing laundry in the river, which can take up to five hours, drying included. We also pump water on our day off. Our purification system is something like a small keg, that we hand pump about 40L worth at a time. All that done though, we spend our days reading under the "leaning rock" which casts its shadow over camp. Its absolutely stunning.

The "Leaning Rock"

 The highlight of our week is when we get tourists, but not too many because sometimes they kick us out of our bungalow and we have to stay in a tent. This has only happened once so far though. I get to meet so many amazing people who are traveling through the park. So far we have met people from Germany, the UK, Scotland, Czech Republic, Switzerland, Spain, Italy, Canada, Ireland, US, France, Saudi Arabia, and Australia. One of my favorite tourists was a guy from the UK who was traveling alone through the country. He had just finished his dissertation on sustainable guitar production and lent us an autobiography about an English comedian (thank you!). We also met two guys, one from Ireland and the other from the US, who were teaching English in Saudi Arabia. Emily and I are always naturally a little bit more accommodating when English guys make their way through camp. A group of children also came up from the village, and we taught them how to cupid shuffle. Luckily I had a little bit more juice left on my iPod to dance to "Walking on Sunshine" by Katrina and the Waves as well.

The journey back to Sambava was strange. This was mostly because we hadn't been in open space for over a month, and all of a sudden we were walking through fields of rice to get back to the closest village, Manantenina. Whenever we walk through the village, all the children run out to greet us by saying "Salama vazaha" (Hello foreigner), to which we respond "Salama zaza" (Hello children). As I've said before, it all seems very surreal at times. People also tend to stare at me because I am so tall here compared to everyone else. I tower over even the tallest men in the village.

Part of the trail back to the villages of Mandena and Manantenina

 There is so much more to tell, but unfortunately is has taken me almost three hours to type this and my Internet bill is starting to get a little bit high. Quickly I'd just like to thank Lara who's music is getting me through homesickness and the loneliness that comes from working abroad for so long. Happy birthday to all you who have one in the coming weeks! A special shout out goes to Scott and Logan. I'd also like to wish DFH the best of luck in their up coming preseason training and season. Up, up, BIG green!!

I'll be recovering from the jungle in Sambava until August 20th, at which point I will make the trek back into Marojejy. You should expect the next update around the end of September.

Veloma!

Salama!

First of all let me make a disclaimer and say that the keyboards here are very strange. All the letters are moved around so it takes a really long time to type something. Things may also be spelt wrong because the computer's default language is French. That aside though, connection here is pretty fast and not too expensive.

So far Madagascar has been a whirlwind. Emily, the other Research Assistant here from Duke, and I arrived last Sunday night around 11 pm (4 pm Eastern Time). It took us two hours to get our baggage, everything moves pretty slowly here. The capital was interesting. There are basically NO rules for driving, except you can never be on the phone at a gas station. Otherwise that though anything goes. Drivers here use their horns a lot, and I'm surprised there aren't more accidents. The poverty in the city also took me by surprise. When I say Tana (Antananarivo) is a city, I mean there are just a lot more people there and the roads are paved. There are some bigger business buildings of course, but the houses people live in are similar to what I see here in the rural cities. They are incredibly small, usually made of wood or bamboo with a tin roof. I would upload some pictures, but unfortunately the computers we connect on are loaded with viruses so its not that safe to plug things in. This means that all these post will just be text about what's going on here. When I get back to the states I can upload some of the best pictures.

A house in the village of Mandena

We flew from Tana to Sambava on Wednesday morning. Sambava is a little beach town on the coast, about an hour and a half drive from the Marojejy National Park entrance. It is where our base camp is, so we will come here to resupply and enter data into the computer. Its hot here, but it rains on and off everyday. The first thing we learned when we got here was to always have three things in your backpack: a raincoat, water, and a flashlight for the common power outages (it also gets dark quickly and early in the forest). We are renting bungalows in Hotel Mimi on the main road in Sambava. We have them rented until the end of December, so those rooms are our home away from the rain forest. They are very nice for the area and there is a restaurant in the hotel which is very convenient since you shouldn't walk around too much at night.

The Bakery/Restaurant at Mimi Hotel

 Bio people, there are geckos in the bungalows to keep the bugs to a minimum. Its always really comforting when I see them climbing on the wall because that means I have less spiders and other critters crawling around. Our first night here, I swear there was a spider the size of my palm on Emily's floor.

One of the many geckos at Mimis

We leave for our first trip up to the park tomorrow. We bought about two million ariary (the Madagascar currency, about 2,000 Ar = 1 USD) worth of food and supplies for our trip. We have to hire about 50 porters to carry all our baggage, equipment, and supplies into the park and then up to Camp 2. The food should last for the first month so we won't come back down to town until early to mid August. The hike tomorrow will take roughly five hours. It will be difficult, but we don't start getting to a steep incline until closer to our camp, plus all the trails are well maintained because its a national park. It only gets really tough when we are tracking the lemurs because they don't stay on the trail.

We've also spent the last week preparing to collect data. Emily and I will both be working on two projects, which involve collecting vocalization and scent marking data. We will focus on the scent marking project for the first couple weeks or so. Our job is to follow an animal with the help of local trackers. We will watch the same animal all day and record where they scent mark using a GPS. Its not too difficult, but we have to learn which animals are which. This takes some practice and will require about a week to get it right. That's how we will be spending all next week actually. The local trackers go out early in the morning to find the lemur group, then we meet them around 7 am. The lemurs in our group are habituated, meaning they can tolerate the presence of humans (there are 6 animals total, but there may be a new baby born in the next couple weeks, if it isn't here already).

Today has been a good day so far because I had my first successful Malagasy exchange with a local taxi driver we now know. It consisted of us greeting each other in Malagasy, asking how things were going, and replying that there was nothing new. BABY STEPS. Malagasy is a hard language to speak because nothing sounds like the way it is spelt. Most people in the rural areas only speak Malagasy, unless they have been schooled in which case they may speak French as well. Very few people can speak English, but there are some.

To say hello here, you say "salama" (sa-lam-ma). Goodbye is "veloma" (vel-oo-ma) I know a few other useful phrases. My favorite by far is "tsy misy" (tsi-meess) which basically means none or there is none. You can use it in many different contexts according to one of the Peace Corps volunteers we've met here, plus its fun to say.

That reminds me though, there are five Peace Corps volunteers working in the area who are all from the US. One older couple, Bob and Jean, and then three younger people who all graduated college within the last couple years, Nick, Joel, and Liz. We've met them all and some of them will probably come visit us in Camp 2. Its refreshing to speak English with them, maybe grab a beer every now and then, haha. Bob and Jean are about 60 and they will be bringing a group of thirteen children up to Camp 2 in about 10 days to see the sifakas, so we'll be looking forward to seeing them.

Anyway, its all very new and exciting, and I'm sure I will have more entertaining stories when we come back down in a month. I can get mail and packages here, but it takes a very long time and can be unreliable. For the address, contact Vicki. Happy Birthday Mom!! Veloma!