Today, K had planned a trip to the beach. That is, a beach where we could swim because the beach extends for endless miles along the coast. Romeo drove us to the town of Foulpoint past a number villages and compounds. The compounds are bounded by stick fences and occasionally weaved bamboo used in place of where we might use boards. K pointed out that some of the sticks have shoots and leaves growing at the top. Point being, it's very easy to grow things here.
We passed a series of stalls selling baskets and other weaved products. K asked if Nicola wanted to shop, a question which includes one of Nicola's favourite activities and so, of course, we had to stop. And of course, Nicola couldn't find anything because how on earth is she going to get a basket back to Canada without it getting crushed.
Before going to the hotel, we stopped at Manda Fort. This is the only surviving Fort made from eggs and ground coral. These made a paste that could be used to cement the rocks and thereby build the fort. It must have been blinding inside. Unfortunately, UNESCO has not declared it a heritage sight and being in Madagascar everything of value has been removed so that only walls and the outer shells of two of the buildings are left. Fidel, our guide, told us that at one time the walkway around the walls was made of rosewood but it had since all been stolen. Cannon, a gift of the British were still in place along a few of the opening. Fidel showed us where the opening of a tunnel that extended three kilometres to allow for people to escape and soldiers to be resupplied during times of siege. He knocked on the cement overtop and with the hollow sound help reassure us of its existence. He said people couldn't go don it anymore because it was full of snakes and showed us a bunch of snake skins to again assure of the tunnels existence.
Fidel told us that he was the seventh generation of individuals connected to the Fort and then proceeded to tell us a story about the slave trade and how the British had ended the trade after they had started to make use of machines. He said that slaves passing by Madagascar would try to escape in order to achieve freedom. He told of a woman on board one of these slave ships had had her chains unlocked by a Chinese man so that they could drink water. When he was not looking she jumped into the water, she swam to shore. (Swimming motions included with the story.) It happened that night that she and other Somali women who'd escaped were asked to entertain some British officers with their dance. The officers were so impressed with their performance that they asked the women to stay behind and seven generations later, he was introduced to the world.
La Cigale (the swan) Hotel was new and very nice however they screwed up K's reservation so that they had only one room and not two available that night. So, being a very considerate hostess, K gave us the remaining room which had a large balcony overlooking the beach and went next door where they had a single room without even a window available for that night.
After lunch, we went for a swim on a beautiful sand beach in front of the hotel which, except for a few young people in the water and few fishermen on shore, was empty. The surf was fairly rough and the shoreline had a bit of an incline so swimming wasn't the easiest. It did, however, make for some very good body surfing. The waves were easy to catch and they'd take you all the way into shore where they would slam you into the sand. By getting up before or after the wave has retreated I could save being twisted in the current. Neither Nicola nor K were enthusiastic body surfers staying closer to shore where body damage would be limited.
After our swim, we walked along the beach past many, many pirogues turned upside down in the beach. A few fishermen, with the help of their wives were untangling fishing nets. The tide was in so we weren't able to walk out the reef but we could see the waves breaking against it about 50 metres out.
There's a point where we could see around bend in the shoreline and from a distance we could see the crowds on Manda Beach. Beach chairs and umbrellas lined the water and K told us that you can rent a chair and someone will keep you supplied with drink and food. The contrast was striking between the emptiness of our beach and the crowds on this one visible from a distance. I thought at the time, it was because our area was exclusive to those inhabiting the local hotels but I was wrong.
We had dinner next door at the hotel where K was staying as ours wasn't serving dinner that night. We were joined by another couple and their early teen boy from the other hotel. The rest of the patrons were older French guys with their much younger Malagasy girlfriends. You see this everywhere here, older white guys, almost always French, with their younger Malagasy wives and, on occasion, with a small child as well. The owner was at the bar chatting it up with a couple of his expat buddies, all in their fifties of early sixties, all very cozy. Judging by the quality of the food and service, he's not that concerned about the tourist trade.
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