Travelogue November 17, 2023, to February 21, 2024

To start at the beginning, please go to PART ONE: From Southampton, U.K. to Seychelles.

After crossing the Equator on December 18th, and enjoying another weekly formal night (to illustrate the latter, here I am below with one of my tablemates), since our visit to the Maldives was cancelled, we arrived a day early in the Seychelles, the smallest country of Africa with a population of about 107,000, but as the port of Victoria wasn't ready for us, we anchored off the island of Mahé and took tender boats into Victoria port today. Yesterday evening, however, we had a splendid view of Silhouette Island, uninhabited, and the third largest island of the Seychelles, at sunset.

  

Located on the north-east of Mahé, Victoria is the capital city of the Seychelles Archipelago, which is comprised of 115 islands. French, English and Creole (an adaptation of 17th-century French from the colonial era, interspersed with other words and expressions from African languages such as Swahili) are the languages spoken here, although in general, the Seychellois are a blend of different nationalities, all of which have contributed elements of their customs and culture to the islands.

  

  

  

I had not booked any excursion for today and decided to venture into Victoria--an ever-evolving melting pot--and revisit some of the sights I had seen on my first visit here in December 2017. I had hoped to break down some of my larger bills of USD and Euros here as well today, but the banks all had long queues of locals, since it is Christmas week, and a lot of shopping is going on. One bank only offered to exchange my USD and Euros for Seychellois Rupees, which was something I wasn't looking for, and another suggested I try the Central Bank of the Seychelles, but by the time I found it, it was closed (it had only been open until noon).

  

  

  

Meanwhile, I was reminded of the proliferation of colourful birds here, and managed to photograph some mynahs, red fodies (male and female), Seychelles blue pigeons, egrets, and a heron, as well as a couple of unidentifiable, small, colourful birds, possibly yellow/orange fodies. Other photographs displayed for today are the “I love Seychelles” sign, which tourists kept sitting beside (argh!), the Little Ben clock tower, modelled on the clock near Victoria Station in London, England, a few statues, the Arul Mihu Navasakthi Vinayagar Hindu temple, the Sir Selwyn Selwyn Clarke market (about four egrets were sizing the fish on offer at the fish market), various tropical flowers, and murals at the bus station. It was a hot day and despite a cloud cover for most of it, I got slightly burned and so put up my umbrella to help ward off the rays. I also walked all the way to the Botanical Gardens, designed by French botanist, Rivaltz Dupont, featuring exotic and endemic plants he had collected on his travels, but when I arrived at the ticket booth, I was told I could not pay cash; they only took credit card payments. I wonder how many tourists they lose due to this rule. I don't think I missed much though, apart from giant Aldabra tortoises, but I think I might be seeing a few more in the Seychelles on subsequent days, and of course I saw similar giant tortoises in the Galapagos Islands in 2017.

  

  

My tour today was a visit to a local resort on 65 acres of a former coconut plantation at Cap Lazare in the south of Mahé island, about 45 minutes' drive from the port. I thought it might be an opportunity to photograph more local bird life, and perhaps snorkel, but I was on the whole disappointed. We were lucky, however, that we were a relatively small group of about 18, instead of several busloads, as has been the case on other tours. Our guide, Desmond, gave his spiel in English, though it was obvious he was much more comfortable speaking French, or, perhaps, German using words like Fabrik when he meant factory!

  

   

There are no dangerous animals in the Seychelles but there are lots of fruit bats, which Desmond proclaimed to taste delicious. The first industry on the islands is tourism while the second is fishing. There is a distillery for rum (made from local sugar cane) at Takamaka Bay (which we passed) with produce ranging from 25 to 69 percent alcohol. Various fruits and spices are added to this rum for flavour, such as pineapple, coconut, cinnamon, vanilla, and more. Talking of pineapple, they grow red pineapple here (a plantation of them was pointed out to us from the bus), as well as red bananas, which are only one of 12 types of bananas grown in the Seychelles. Health treatment and medicine are also provided for free at public clinics, but locals can also obtain expensive private care from foreign doctors who come to the islands and set up private practices.

We arrived at Cap Lazare with its authentic-looking thatched-roof restaurant over a floor of sand, and washrooms hidden between granite boulders. It's a pity that the washrooms weren't nicer smelling or hadn't space enough to change clothing after swimming. Nevertheless, the staff were friendly and replied to me in French when I spoke to them in French. We were first served a welcome drink of passion fruit juice and met the local young cat who craved affection. Then those of us who could walk easily, went on an 8-minute walk uphill to see the giant Aldabra tortoises (you see? I thought I'd have another opportunity after my disappointment yesterday!) There were about 19 of them, the males noticeably larger than the females, and you'll see me here above with a female.

  

Perhaps it's appropriate to talk about these animals here. “Giant tortoises were common on all islands in the Western Indian Ocean until Mauritius was colonised in the 1600s. Increased numbers of explorers and settlers removed or killed the creatures in vast numbers and by 1840 the only surviving giant tortoises in the world were [those] on the inhospitable and isolated Aldabra Atoll, and the unrelated Galapagos tortoises in the Pacific Ocean. Aldabra tortoises are one of the world's largest land tortoises weighing up to 250 kg. One Aldabra tortoise weighing 305kg is the world's largest free-roaming tortoise ever recorded. They are found mainly on Aldabra Island, although the former leper colony, Curieuse Island, has been turned into a giant Aldabra tortoise refuge with an effective breeding programme.”

  

We then continued along the path for a view of the ocean, but it suddenly came on to rain and Desmond mentioned that since this was the winter in the Seychelles, it was also the rainy season and it tended to rain at low tide and high tide. At that moment it was high tide. I pulled out my umbrella but got soaked nonetheless and as the rain hampered the view we were planning to visit, we walked back down to the restaurant and waited in the dry for the shower to subside and eventually stop. On the way down, Desmond showed us a large palm spider (shown above).

  

Due to the rain too, the staff decided to give us lunch early at 11:30 a.m., instead of 12:30 p.m. as planned, and after our orders for beer or soft drinks were taken, we were invited to help ourselves to a Creole buffet of various delicious dishes, including fish and chicken, with sauces of curry and mustard, various vegetables, and dessert of fruit salad and something called nougat with rum in it. After lunch, my fellow passengers wandered off to the beach. Since I wasn't tempted to swim and those people I asked said there wasn't much to see in the water either, except for a few small fish, I decided to walk back up to the tortoises and check out the view now that the sun was out again. I did see a large bat in flight, and a couple of the tortoises in rut but nothing much regarding birdlife, apart from the usual pigeons and mynah birds, though there were a few domestic ducks and chickens on the property. I spent the rest of my time until 4:00 p.m. reading--finishing one novel and starting another--although I did photograph a crab, as well as a staff member cutting down a coconut to serve to guests. Yes, a lazy day, soaking in the sea or on a lounger on the beach is a paradise for some, but not necessarily for me, unless there are opportunities to photograph, which wasn't the case here, unfortunately. The tours I have booked in Praslin and La Digue are more beach days, so I can only hope there will be more to enjoy and photograph on those days. We had a final stop over a viewpoint on our way back to Victoria, and both Praslin and La Digue could be seen to be not that far away.

Last night I received a large number of emails after not being able to access them for two weeks, and as my booked tour to St. Anne Marine Park for today had been canceled due to there not being enough participants, I decided to use it as a work day, to answer emails, prepare my photos, write up my travelogue for yesterday, and do some washing. It is the Friday before Christmas so I expect things will be busy once again in Victoria. Today is also officially the end of leg one and the start of leg two. I heard tell that 80 passengers were disembarking and 200 were embarking, but I don't know that for sure. A nice surprise today was that I was presented with a second complimentary bottle of champagne for my suite (I still haven't done anything about the first one, though have mentioned sharing it with my formal dining room tablemates on Christmas Day.)

As an aside, the other claim to fame of the Seychelles is the Coco de Mer. “In the 1700s, several large seeds washed up on the shores of India and the Maldivian Islands and were spotted by sailors in the Indian Ocean. Nobody knew what they were, and a legend evolved of a tree that grew at the bottom of the ocean which produced the coco de mer--the nut of the sea. On [their] arrival in the Seychelles in 1768, the French discovered the indigenous trees that produced this fruit. This flowering palm is a botanic record holder boasting the largest fruit ever recorded (43kg), the world's heaviest seeds (up to 18kg) and the largest flowers of any female palm. The trees can reach heights of up to 34m, with 10m-long fronds. The tree can take between 25 and 50 years to reach maturity, and the fruit takes up to 10 years to ripen. Due to the uniqueness of these plants, the Seychelles government has banned the eating and export of these fruits.”

Praslin, the second largest island in the Seychelles Archipelago, 44 kilometres north-east of Mahé, seven miles long, and with a population of around 7,500, was originally a hideaway for pirates. It is also “home to the world's smallest (19.5 hectare) natural UNESCO World Heritage Site, the Vallée du Mai Nature Reserve. Also described as the Garden of Eden, [this area] is an example of the evolutionary history of the world's tropical flora. Relative isolation has led to the evolution of many unique species that are found nowhere else in the world, including five unique specimens of palm trees, such as the Coco de Mer.” I had visited the Vallée de Mai Nature Reserve in 2017 so had no need to see it again.

  

After tendering from our anchored ship to the ferry port on Praslin, I joined my chosen tour called Robinson Crusoe Adventure. Boarding our large catamaran, Oplezir, with a capacity for 112 passengers and 8 crew, our first stop was to tiny St. Pierre Island, so we could snorkel off the catamaran in turquoise waters. Finding out that my own mask and snorkel was broken, I borrowed a set off the catamaran as well as flippers and jumped into the crystal-clear water to view quite a lot of smaller fish. At one point, I heard an elderly fellow passenger near me cry out for help, so my lifesaving techniques (learned decades ago) kicked in. I asked him if he needed some assistance, he said yes. As he wasn't in full panic mode, I told him to turn over on his back and I hooked my right arm through his and started towing him toward the dinghy, which was coming quickly toward us. The boat reached us, and the two young men inside were able to pull the overweight man onto it. At that point, one of my flippers fell off of my foot. Luckily, it floated up to sea level so I didn't need to dive to the bottom to get it as I thought I might. Nevertheless, somewhat winded from the experience, I swam back to the boat holding the flipper in one hand. In any case, the man seemed fine for the rest of the day so it mustn't have been all that serious.

  

After about an hour anchored at this small island that had no beach on it, we continued to Curieuse Island, home of the second largest natural colony of coco de mer palms, and more giant Aldabra tortoises. These tortoises looked happier than those we had seen on Mahé. Although they had a wooded area for shade, they also had plenty of lawn to enjoy the grass and actually seemed to stand up on their legs to walk across to greet us. We were also encouraged to pet them. They clearly enjoyed a good scratch or rub on their long necks, though we were told not to touch their shells. There was also a breeding centre containing various ages of younger tortoises. We were told that giant tortoise eggs are the size of ping pong balls! Another distinguishing difference I recorded between the information about these tortoises provided by our guide on Mahé and our guide today was that during rutting, one can hear one of the tortoises making a sound like “Ungh, ungh, ungh.” The (male) guide in Mahé told us this sound was made by the female tortoise who was complaining that the experience was painful for her, while the (female) guide on Curieuse Island said that this noise was being emitted by the frustrated male tortoise unable to fully penetrate the female. I guess we'll never know for sure which theory is correct but having a 350 kg male tortoise on top of you pushing you, after a (very slow) chase, can't be all that pleasant, I should think.

  

  

We were then offered a walk across Curieuse Island, through mangrove swamps (over which the longest boardwalk in the Seychelles had been built), to another beach where we were picked up in the catamaran's dinghies. Although this was a fairly easy walk for me, some of the more elderly passengers probably shouldn't have attempted it as there were three hills to climb as well as plenty of roots to trip over, not to mention a muddy section. At one point, an elderly passenger asked for sugar as she was diabetic. Consequently, we had a slow go of it waiting for stragglers but managed nevertheless to learn some facts from our guide and photograph palm plums, hibiscus, large dark red crabs, thousands of snails, and more.

  

We enjoyed lunch once we were back on board the catamaran. During the morning we had seen the cook and some of the crew cooking sausages and chicken on grills at the back of the boat and were enjoying the mouth-watering smells coming from them. The creole buffet also included three kinds of salad, bread rolls, plain white rice, and some garnished noodles as well as grilled tuna steaks and dessert of fruit salad and pumpkin slice. It was a hot day, and I was one of the later passengers to arrive on the cat, so the only empty seat I found was on the sunny side of the boat. To ward off the hot sun, I used my umbrella once again as I could feel my arm getting burned.

  

After lunch we anchored off Anse Lazio, a famous white beach on Praslin Island, touted as one of the best beaches in the world, and were invited to swim and snorkel again. This time I swam with the borrowed mask and snorkel, but without the flippers, to a smaller beach that was in fact closer to the catamaran than Anse Lazio. The water wasn't as clear and there were weeds floating in it, but there were masses of fish including parrot fish and a large, long unidentifiable fish. When I arrived on the powder-white-sand beach, there were two young couples sunbathing on it, and one girl pointed out to me that there was a sea turtle off to the right-hand side behind the rocks. However, I just wanted to sit on the large pink granite rock, peer through a large leafy frond hanging from the palm tree above me and enjoy all the sensations--the breeze on my face, the sound of the waves lapping the shoreline, the salt on my lips... I wished I'd brought my waterproof camera at that point (it was in my bag on the catamaran) but instead had to photograph it in my mind. I then swam back to the catamaran. We had a good hour here too so were given plenty of time to snorkel and swim.

  

It then took about an hour for the catamaran to motor back to the tender port and we got back to our ship in good time. A very enjoyable day, all told, and another interesting sunset at the end of it, along with the moon.

  

La Digue, also located north-east of Mahé, is the fourth largest island in the Seychelles covering an area of less than four square miles, and third in size of inhabitants with a population of around 3,000. Bicycles are the principal means of transportation, but the occasional ox cart is used to transport tourists who don't wish to or cannot ride bikes. Cars aren't allowed on the island unless they are performing a public service. In 2017, my friend and I hired bicycles and rode to the famous beach of Anse Source d'Argent of soft white sand, dramatic granite boulders, and crystal blue water. So having been there and done that, I chose the one excursion offered that went off the island of La Digue: a catamaran trip to Coco and Sister Islands. To my surprise, I found we would be traveling on the exact same catamaran as yesterday, Oplezir, with the same crew but a different guide and a different cook, which meant the lunch was slightly different too.

  

  

Although, unfortunately, the day started off with rain, it did clear up, but the cloud cover persisted. This only meant really that the ocean reflected different blues, which were just as nice as those of yesterday in full sunlight. I was slightly more covered up today in a shorty wetsuit, which meant my arms were fully covered.

  

  

At our first opportunity to swim and snorkel, off the catamaran anchored at Little Sister Island, since it was still dull and raining, I decided I would prefer to stand on the starboard side and photograph the fairy terns, fruit bats, and tropicbirds. The terns were somewhat unusual in that although they are white birds, the blue of the sea is reflected in the underside of their wings to make it look as though their wings are pale turquoise. As for the fruit bats, our guide informed me that they taste somewhat like rabbit and are cooked by the Seychellois on special occasions in a sauce of coconut and curry. He also mentioned that female bats bleed like human females and use fibre from the kapok tree to soak it up. You will also see them fly down to the sea to wash the blood off themselves. Intrigued, I Googled kapok, and learned from the Open Learning website (https://www.open.edu) that it “is a tropical tree [that] can grow up to 70 metres (230 feet) tall, and the trunk can be up to 3 metres (10 feet) in diameter. The leaves come in groups of 5 to 9 at a time, and ... can be up to 20 centimetres long. The flowers on the leaves can produce well over 200 litres of nectar per tree in a season. This is why bats like the tree so much. They sometimes travel as much as 12 miles between trees to drink the sweet nectar. The adult trees produce several hundred 15[-centimetre-long] seed pods. A fluffy yellow or white fibre surrounds the seeds. This fibre is also called kapok ... [It] is light, burns easily ... and is used as filling for mattresses, pillows, and cushions. The seeds can also be used to make soap or fertiliser for crops.”

  

  

We had been waiting for news as to whether we would be permitted to step foot on Big Sister Island, which is a private island and normally closed on Saturdays, Sundays, and holidays. Although we were asking permission to step onto the beach only, and not in the area of the private property itself, and despite the fact that all beaches in the Seychelles are public, we still needed authorization to do so. Finally, we were given the OK by the caretaker, and while some of us swam to the beach off the anchored catamaran, others of us chose to take the dinghy there. I was of the latter group because I wanted to use my big camera to photograph what I could, yet land so I could add another island in the Seychelles to the list of those I had actually stepped on.

  

  

As you can see, the choice I made was good because I was able to photograph some beach plants and flowers, as well as a great deal of the beach coral, some of which was quite colourful and seemingly alive. I also asked the island caretaker, who looked like an interesting character with his large smile and long dreadlocks, if I might photograph him, but he shook his head and smiled so I kept my camera down and he gave me a thumbs up for complying to his wish. Hopefully, these close ups above will give you an idea of the composition of the beach, including a hermit crab in his shell.

  

  

I believe it was at this point, after we were all back on board again, that were provided with today's buffet lunch. This time there were two types of pork dishes, but also jack fish, salads, rolls, rice, and a different type of vegetarian pasta dish, plus fruit salad and a banana slice for dessert. Then the anchor was weighed (brought up) and we sailed towards Coco Island, a very picturesque small island (and perfect little beach), where once again we had the opportunity to snorkel in clear water. Now standing on the front of the cat in the area of the trampoline with my long lens, I was fascinated by the dozens of fruit bats flying over this particular island, as well as a frigate bird and another with a curved beak seen here that I couldn't identify--a curlew perhaps? It was at this point I had a long conversation with Curtis, the young captain, in French. He frequently mentioned Madagascar and Mauritius in his references, and I gathered there was a type of unity among those two countries and Seychelles, perhaps because they were all independent island-countries in the Indian Ocean. He told me, too, that although his age group all spoke Creole at home and with each other (as was evident from the conversations the crew were having among themselves), children in school today were not being taught/learning Creole, couldn't therefore speak it, and consequently this language may become lost to future generations.

  

  

After this long stop, we then weighed anchor again, and took about 90 minutes to circumnavigate La Digue slowly so that we could photograph the various beaches from the catamaran at our leisure. I recognised Anse Source d'Argent, which you will see here, and saw many bicyclists. After another successful and beautiful day, we arrived back at the tender port in time to board our tender boats back to the ship.

  

Christmas Day was a full day on board starting with meeting my formal dining room tablemates for breakfast at the formal dining room and sharing a bottle of champagne over our scrambled eggs, eggs benedict, kedgeree, or baked beans and hash browns. Next, I went up to the pool deck to see Santa Claus arrive, join in some of the dancing, and get my photo taken with the man. In the early afternoon, I watched the reindeer racing by the senior officers, and then came to my room to work on my photos and exchange WhatsApp messages with friends and family. At 4:00, I joined the audience for a concert by the passenger ukelele group and the passenger choir of Christmas carols and songs. Then I changed into formal wear to attend Santa's cocktail party at 5:30 followed by our formal dinner of turkey, stuffing, brussels sprouts, etc. and Christmas pudding, in the formal dining room, where we were joined at our table by Second Engineer George (two stripes) from the Philippines. After dinner, we went back to the show lounge for various songs and dances presented by members of the entertainment department and then to the bar at 10:00 to join the others for the Christmas Quiz. Our team won a bottle of bubbly having had the highest points (14 out of 15).

  

The days on shore have been numerous and busy, and although I have been processing my photos every day, I have had no time for writing, so I am now catching up on January 6th. What exciting ports and excursions (with one exception) they have been. We had two days in Mombasa, a coastal city in South-Eastern Kenya, and the first capital of British East Africa before Nairobi was elevated to Capital status in 1907. The city has had British, Portuguese (thanks to Vasco da Gama) and Arab settlers (the latter since the 12th century), and their cultures are still evident here. Mombasa is also known as “the white and blue city” due, I gather, to the colours of some of its buildings, and is the second largest city of Kenya after Nairobi with a population of about 1.4 million people. (Nairobi has 5.3 million.) According to our guide, Mugo (aka Antony), Kenya itself has a population of 47 million (although Google says 55 million) and an area of half a million square kilometres (582,646 km2 according to Google). It also has 46 ethnic groups, 55 dialects and is made up of Bantus, Nilots, and Kushites. Swahili is the national language and is spoken by 65% of the population. Kenya is also known for its marathon runners. While many cruise ship guests took overland tours to a number of (rather expensive) safaris (Serengeti, Maasai Mara, Amboseli, and Tsavo East), as I had not visited Mombasa before, (or if I had, I had no particular memory of it) and had heard good things, I was anxious to visit. In preparation, I started taking malaria tablets yesterday as advised by my local travel clinic.

  

  

  

Jambo as they say in Swahili, the language of use for the next 4 days. Today's excursion for me was to Kisite-Mpunguti Marine National Park. Coming out of the cruise terminal very early in the morning, having obtained our e-visas online before our cruise started, we drove into the heart of Mombasa town toward the ferry over to the mainland. Two ferries cross this short distance almost simultaneously (a 10-minute ferry ride perhaps): one for passengers only, and the other with a combination of vehicles and passengers. The channel where these ferries cross is also the entryway for large ships to the port, which is why a ferry service runs here and there is no bridge, the width not being wide enough to build a bridge high enough for such large vessels. There is another bridge further on that connects the island of Mombasa to the mainland but for most commuters, it is too far away.

  

  

  

This was our first time on the sub-Saharan African continent during this cruise and the mixtures of faces, and the colourful clothing, were fascinating. I also spied a few Maasai warriors among the crowds waiting to get onto or coming off the ferries. We then drove down the highway through a couple of large towns with their various markets, goats, cows, dogs, chickens, ducks and waving children. After about two--or was it three--hours, after crossing the town of Diani, a popular place for tourists, according to our guide, we arrived in the town of Shimoni, or more exactly, the gateway to the Marine Park. Here, after using the toilets in the park entrance complex, we got into a covered dhow, a traditional wooden motorboat, with benches on the port and starboard sides for us to sit on. We had a team of three or four young crew/swimmers with us and took a one-hour boatride to the marine park, south, toward the border with Tanzania, with its interesting land formations, including a brief moment en route to view dolphins swimming alongside our boats. Many other tourists, both local and foreign, were doing the same as us, so in view of the large number of dhows, we could not land on the shore but just swam or snorkelled off the dhow via a metal ladder. The marine park did not allow us to take in any disposable plastic, so we were asked to leave the plastic bottles of water we had been given behind in the bus. I kept on seeing bits of plastic floating on the water and was curious as to why they did not pick them up and dispose of them on land. I was told that they were placed there by fishermen to mark crab traps. I did, however, alert the guide when I saw a piece of red plastic netting blow off the roof of the dhow into the water (luckily it floated). He indicated the object to his team member in the water at that time who dutifully went and fetched it and brought it back to the boat.

  

  

  

We were then given two hours to snorkel on the reef around a white-sand island and, oh my! the marine life was beautiful: very colourful fish of all sizes and live coral including brain and organ pipe coral. The best marine life I have seen so far on this cruise. I did not see any of the turtles that these 30 kms of coral reef also contain. Our snorkeling over and back onboard the dhow, we were then offered water or local beer called Tusker--the glass bottles came in a 500-ml size--as we motored back to Shimoni. We had a short bus ride to our lunch spot, and were served a delicious meal of a curry vegetable soup, with chapatis and then rice, salads and chicken. Fish was also offered, but as it was only the heads and tails of fish, I declined. We were offered another bottle of Tusker beer, which went down nicely. Back in the bus, we had another short ride (we were supposed to be walking there, according to the tour itinerary, but in view of the heat and the fact that we had to stick to a strict time schedule, we were driven) to the Slave Caves of Shimoni, where we were told the history of how they were used as a meeting point for inland traders before the slaves were loaded onto ships for the Middle East, mainly. In this town, too, we saw cats and yellow baboons.

  

  

  

  

Today's tour was booked only a few days ago and I apologise for the large number of photos, but it was just one of those days when photographic opportunities were abundant, and I took full advantage. I chose the tour called A Glimpse of the Past to learn about the history of Mombasa, but also because I had heard there might be opportunities to photograph people at the Fort. Described as a scenic driving tour, it began in Mombasa's city centre. Passing bustling markets and mosques en route, we arrived at our first stop, a very colourful and interesting Hindu temple, called Shri Cutch Satsang Swaminarayan Temple. At said temple, our guide struggled to tell us all about Hinduism, but our escort from the ship, a salesman from the jewelry store, was actually a Hindu from India, so he corrected some of the guide's statements.

  

  

  

The entranceway was beautiful and there were more beautiful displays inside regarding the rules of Hinduism and what happens to you if you disobey these rules. For example, “if a person kills or eats animals for food in this life, then they have to pay for their sinful deed in Hell. They are thrown forcefully in a pot of boiling water.” “Those people who drink alcohol are taken to Hell. There they are forced to drink hot boiling iron by the Hellish people (Yamduts).” “By stealing and robbying (sic) others money, the person is given excruciating punishments in Hell by the Hellish people (Yamduts)” Another panel stated some facts believed by many religions: Conquer evil by goodness. Think before you speak. Cleanliness is next to godliness. Reading makes a perfect man. Live in harmony with all. There is no wisdom without love ... Avarice is the root of all evils. Dark stone will never turn white. No pains, no gains. Practice makes a man perfect. Heaven helps those who help themselves. Truth is the highest religion. Union is strength. A man is known by the company he keeps. Man is God in Making.”

  

  

  

Another panel represented the “Eleven Commands of Shikshapatru: Do not kill any living being. Never associate with other women. Do not eat meat and do not drink alcohol. Do not smoke tobacco or opium and bhang. Never insult widow nor touch her. Never steal anybody. Never commit suicide. Under no circumstances censure anbody. Do not eat unclean food or food prepared by unknown person. Never hear preaching from one who censure almighty. Never criticise any religion or their deities.” Food for thought!

  

  

  

We were asked to remove our shoes to enter the women's hall and then walked up stairs barefooted to the men's hall where there was a set of three altars and young men, who were praying and walking around these altars a number of times. You will also see here some of the offerings placed at said altars.

  

  

  

Next, after passing under Mombasa's iconic (since 1952) four simulated elephant tusks crossed in the shape of an 'M' for Mombasa on Moi Avenue, we visited the market. After photographing the colourful spices, I chatted with some of the vendors. I was the only one to venture into the meat market as the other passengers were turned off by the smell and flies. Due to that general reaction, we were not invited by our guide to visit the fish market, though of course I would have liked to, as it was not far away. When one is on a group tour, however, majority rules, so I had no choice.

  

  

  

We then drove on to Fort Jesus, a Portuguese structure built in 1593 after Mombasa had been captured by Portuguese sailors and to protect the port from further invaders. After completion, the fort became a vital asset in the control of Kenya and the surrounding trade routes and was won and lost nine times (a major player was the Sultanate of Oman, and hence the Omani doors featured in the fort) before finally remaining with the British. Its name, Jesus, stems from the fact that the Portuguese invaders regarded themselves as representatives of Christendom rather than of Portugal and thus sailed under the flag of the Order of Christ. The fort was declared a national monument in 1958, turned into a museum in 1960, and became a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2011.

  

  

  

Not really interested in the guide's much longer historic spiel, I concentrated on the wily crows, with their grey necks and larger size then those in Vancouver, and of course on the local visitors to the fort. One room of the museum contained Portuguese wall paintings in carbon black and red oxide on the plaster of the revetment wall. They are the work of unknown soldiers or sailors stationed at the Fort in the early 17th century. Among the subjects pictured are ships, churches, fishes, a chameleon, and human figures. Some of the restoration work of the Fort was made thanks to donations from the Sultanate of Oman.

  

  

After viewing the canons and a shop, we were invited to have a complimentary drink (no beer offered this time) at the nearby cafe--and the use of their washrooms--and then we took a short walk through the old town, with its cats. However, once again I understand it was somewhat curtailed due to the heat and the time we had left, so our view of this famous section was indeed briefer than I would have liked.

  

 

Our final visit was to the Akamba Handicraft Industry Cooperative Society Limited Fraternity, an organized group of 2,785 artisans where 80% of the profit from sales of their products goes to the artisans themselves while 20% is taken by the association as an administration overhead. We were introduced to a infinitesimal representation of the artisans (the men were the carvers, the women, the painters of the carvings) and then taken to the shop to look at their creations. The last time I visited Kenya (in the late 1990s), I admit I bought a lot of ebony heads, so I managed to resist buying any more, but to be fair, and to make some contribution to the association, I did buy some fridge magnets!

  

  

On our return to the ship, however, there were stalls set up with a variety of clothing, jewelry, paintings, and more carvings, and thinking we would at some time be having a deck party evening to celebrate Africa, I spent a few more dollars on Maasai beaded stuff I could wear and a pareo of the Kenyan flag--all for a reasonable amount through hard bargaining. The men in red seen here looks Maasai-like and I asked him if he was a Maasai. He said yes, but my guide told me that sometimes they are not Maasai they just dress that way to be able to sell their wares more easily. Most Maasai, he pointed out, are very tall and skinny, while this one was not. Perhaps it would be appropriate to add a bit more here about the Maasai since I am about to leave Kenya. “There are over 50 ethnic groups in Kenya, but the Maasai are one of the few that have managed to retain their traditions and keep their culture alive. Since arriving in the Rift Valley 400 years ago, the Maasai have lived a migratory, pastoral lifestyle. Warriors (usually men and young boys) protect the cattle from predators and herd them to water and pasture, while women milk the cows and look after the home and children. The most striking aspect of Maasai culture is the colourful clothing and jewelry. The Shuka is a robe that is traditionally red, symbolising courage, bravery, and strength. Jewelry is made from colourful beads with designs varying according to the age and social standing of the wearer. White is the colour of milk and represents energy and purity; green is the colour of the grasses that feed the cattle and symbolises health and wellbeing; blue is the colour of the sky which provides rain; yellow is the colour of the sun; orange represents friendship, hospitality and generosity; and black symbolises the people and the hardships they must endure. The Maasai were Kenya's dominant ethnic group until the early 20th century when British troops drove them from their fertile lands, leaving them to survive in some of the most destitute regions. Despite defeating the tribespeople, the British were impressed by their fighting spirit and courage. The warriors excelled in their use of shields and spears but were especially feared for throwing their clubs, known as orinka with expert precision from up to 100m away.”

  

 

Still in Swahili country, today we arrived in Zanzibar, Tanzania, (population 800,000) an insular semi-autonomous region, which united with Tanganyika in 1964 hence the name “Tan” from Tanganyika, “Zan” from Zanzibar and “ia” to match other Africa country endings, such as Algeria, Zambia, Mauritania, etc. Once again, I had last been here in 1998. I remember being very impressed with the old stone town and had images in my head of children on the beach. Zanzibar is an archipelago lying off the coast of East Africa and is known as the “Spice Islands” due to its long history of producing cloves, nutmeg, pepper, and cinnamon. These spices and herbs were originally brought here by Portuguese traders who settled here in the 16th century, aiming to establish a base from which to control East Africa. They cleared land for plantations but never established a presence in Zanzibar beyond a military one. The Omani Arabs ruled Zanzibar from the early 18th century, and it was thanks to their influence that Zanzibar soon became a major producer of spices.

  

  

  

  

  

Stone Town, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, with architecture of Swahili origin, is the historical centre of Zanzibar City, the capital of the archipelago. It is considered one of the few remaining ancient towns in Africa. The town gets its name from the ornate homes built from local stones by Arab traders and enslaved Africans. Freddie Mercury, aka Farroukh Bulsara, was born here in 1946. His parents had moved to the then British protectorate due to his father's work as the Secretary of State for the colonies. He spent his childhood in Zanzibar before being sent to a prestigious British college in India where he studied art and music, joining a choir and a band. In 1964, he returned briefly to Zanzibar and then moved to London where eventually he became the front man of the iconic rock group, Queen.

  

  

  

  

  

Being both interested in music, and a fan of Queen, I opted for the three-hour tour Music and Culture of Zanzibar. Our first stop in our mini bus (I think we were 18 at the most), was the Dhow Countries Music Academy, which I thought would be more of a museum, but instead we were presented with a concert by eight musicians playing drums, violins, an accordion, and a zither-like instrument. Two of the musicians were also singers and the other players joined as chorus members at times. Although it was nice to watch and listen to, I found it went on a little too long. They performed five pieces when they could have kept it at two - one example of Taarab instead of four, and one example of Kidumbak, would have been sufficient and given us more time at other places. I met the female director of the academy outside shown in a photograph above.

  

  

  

  

  

Our next stop was the fairly new Freddie Mercury Museum, which had been set up by a couple of Europeans after the success of the recent biopic film about Mercury, Bohemian Rhapsody, in 2018. There was lots to see and read: lyrics written in Mercury's hand, album covers, clothing, and masses of photographs from different phases of his life. However, it was a fairly small place, beneath the apartment where the Bulsara family had once lived, and there were many tourists walking through it, so my general feeling was frustration at not having more time to take in everything. I had to content myself with photos (when I could take them, and people weren't in front of the objects I wanted to read/photograph!)

  

  

  

  

  

Next, we walked through part of Stone Town to an old fort (Ngome Kongwe) built by Omani Arabs after they had expelled the Portuguese in 1699. In the 19th century, it had been used as a garrison and prison and as a terminal of the Zanzibar railway system. Now in ruins, the area was being used today as an amphitheater, cafe, and a place for artists to display their paintings, among other things. Time being short, we basically walked through it and then out to the waterfront to get our bearings. As the ship was offering a free shuttle bus back to the ship from a hotel in Stone Town, some of us opted to leave the tour at this point and get a ride to the hotel in question to use the toilets. Then, together with my formal dining room table mate, I explored Stone Town on foot in the heat and managed to do quite a bit of photography. I was especially fascinated by the brightly coloured Tinga Tinga paintings on offer. At the appointed time, we then caught the free shuttle back to the ship.

  

  

  

  

  

Today was our last opportunity to speak Swahili. I couldn't count the times I've said hakuna matata or asante sana over the last few days. Everyone has been so friendly and kind and it is difficult to leave. Ah well, all the more reason to go back some day. Today we were visiting the commercial capital of Tanzania, Dar Es Salaam, which apparently means Home of Peace, with a population of 7.7 million. (Since 1974, the administrative capital of Tanzania has been Dodoma, located in the centre of the country.) Starting as a tiny fishing village in the 19th century, now tall, modern buildings overlook a mixture of traditional African, Arab, Indian, and German architecture. Tanzania currently has a population of 67.4 million. There are more women than men and the majority are young people. It also hosts 130 ethnic groups. Tanzania's current President is female and a Muslim and comes from Zanzibar. Our guide today was excellent, and in addition to being a tour guide, he is a curator at the National Museum.

  

  

Opting out of more expensive tours to Bagamayo (an ancient centre of the slave trade) and a fly-in safari, I chose an encompassing tour called Best of Dar Es Salaam, which managed to fit in a lot, although there were two places in the itinerary we missed (a park and another carvings market) and we had too much time at the beach hotel as a result--to my mind anyway. Instead, we started at our guide's other place of work, the National Museum. Apparently, dinosaurs lived in Africa too, although most of the remains were carted off to be displayed in another museum in Europe--in Germany, I think. We were first given a presentation of Tanzania's first president, Julius Nyerere, and I was reminded of an essay I had written about him back in high school. We also saw some old cars, including huge Rolls Royces, that he and other dignitaries of the time had been driven in. The museum housed a number of skulls from the different stages of mankind from millions of years ago, as well as some dark and dismal, modern artwork, and a display of rock art.

  

  

Our next stop was more interesting to me, a cooperative of Tinga Tinga painting artists, and there was so much to photograph! Then we were driven to the Ramada Resort, which was partnered with the Giraffe Beach Hotel, so I wandered around both properties trying to find things to photograph (flowers) and ended up in the bar, where it was cooler, to sip one of the free drinks that came with our meal, a local Tanzanian beer called Kilimanjaro--also in a 500-ml bottle--as our lunch would not be ready for an hour. When lunch was finally ready, we all walked over to the dining room building over the beach and enjoyed another free drink--this time I tried a South African white wine with our buffet lunch of various dishes as well as dessert. And I also photographed various members of the staff serving the meal.

  

  

Our final (rushed) stop was to an open-air museum, founded in 1966, and part of the National Museum, displaying several types of typical dwellings from various parts of Tanzania. The guide was telling us that these were models of huts from the past and such dwellings no longer existed, but if my fairly recent travels in (and photos from) Ethiopia count for anything, I might think he'd never travelled in the rest of his country because I am sure that such dwellings are authentic, still exist, and are lived in today.

  

  

I photographed some information from three of the huts displayed. The first reads (with some editing) as follows: “The Ha, also called Abaha, is among the largest ethnic groups affected by artificial colonial boundaries. A small portion of about 7.5% of the group lives in Tanzania and are referred to as Ha while the rest lived in Burundi and are commonly known as Rundi. Tsetse fly has rendered the area unfit for animal husbandry. Instead, the Waha grow millet, maize, sorghum, yams, and sweet potatoes. Fishing, hunting, and the gathering of wild fruit and plants are other subsistence activities in the area. A typical house for the Waha is small and sometimes portable. Waha, like many other tropical ethnic groups, spend very little time indoors. The pattern of daily life and weather enables them to be outside most of the time. The house is usually illuminated by fire; otherwise, it looks dark due to the lack of windows. Before thatching, the house resembles a large, inverted wicker-work bowl. The thatch is very carefully applied starting at the ground to the top.”

  

  

“Nyakyusa House: Nyakyusa are Bantu speakers living North-west of Lake Nyasa. They grow a variety of crops including bananas and grains. They also keep cattle. The cultivation of fields is carried out communally. The Nyakyusa practice a system of age-sets in which boys aged 11-13 establish their age-village and till the land while leaving the herding activities to their little brothers. Until the boy marries, he cultivates his father's field and eats food cooked by his own mother but sleeps at the age-village. When the boys get married, their fathers hand over the leadership to them in a ceremony called 'coming out.' For ages, Nyakyusa have practiced polygamy. The big house belongs to the junior wife as she is responsible for most of the family matters while the senior wife resides in the small house as it is her time to relax after her long service to the family. Their houses are constructed with bamboo and much effort is given to decorating the house. As it is for cultivation, building the house is a communal activity.”

  

  

“Ngoni House. Ngoni are Bantu speakers who left Southern Africa in 1824 as a result of ethnic conflicts and advanced northward crossing the Zambezi River to settle in Southern Tanzania. They are famous for maize and tobacco production. Ngoni have traditionally practiced polygamy and the compound demonstrated here is for two wives. The senior wife is responsible for family issues and is elder to the junior wife. The front house is for the senior wife, and the smaller house at the back is for the junior wife. As such, the junior house wife must seek permission either to move out or anything else from the senior wife as her house is also the way out of the compound. The husband always sleeps in different houses, alternating between the two. The construction of the house begins with wall construction. Strong woods are erected vertically to support small woods crossing horizontally to make a wall skeleton which is later filled with earth and plastered with clay to make a wall. The wall is then smoothed in and out to make it architecturally beautiful. Roofing is done by setting a central pole. Then other poles are placed on top of the erected vertical poles at one end with the other resting on the central pole. The exercise continues until the whole circle is finished, then grasses are applied from the bottom to the top to make a roof.”

  

  

There was also a display of dancing here, hence the photos. We were then driven back to our ship, exhausted but full of new information and speaking Swahili a little better than we had when our day began.

  

  

Of course, it was December 31, so we then had to get into our formal wear for a cocktail party to celebrate the haggis, and then New Year's Eve dinner, and later on, to see in the new year of 2024 as we sailed away from the port of Dar Es Salaam watching fireworks going off at various locations on shore. Asante sana, Kenya and Tanzania. I hope to visit again. Kwaheri.

  

  

  

Rebonjour! We are now entering the French-speaking part of the Indian Ocean once again and our first stop is the island of Mayotte, a French Department, and a French region, consisting of two main islands, Grande Terre and Petite Terre, as well as several islets around them. Of course, since it belongs to France and not the Comoros (explained below), I cannot count it among my countries visited, much to my regret.

  

  

  

Its land area is 374 square kilometres, and the population is 310,000 with 829 inhabitants per square km. To give you a short history, between the 5th and 12th centuries, it was originally inhabited by African Bantu from the African continent and then Arabs came and brought with them Swahili culture and Islam. In the 18th century, it was raided by Malagasy people to procure slaves. In the 19th century, a Malagasy sultan arrived with warriors and settled in the south. In 1841, the island was sold to the French, and it became a protectorate and then a colony. Slavery was abolished in 1846. In 1974, while the rest of the Comoros Islands decided to become independent, Mayotte confirmed that it wanted to remain French via a referendum and officially became part of France in 1979. In 2011, Mayotte became the 101st department of France.

  

  

  

Despite being part of France, 84 percent of the country live below the poverty line, compared to 16 percent in metropolitan France. Forty percent of dwellings are corrugated sheet metal shacks. Twenty-nine percent of households have no running water and 34 percent of inhabitants aged between 15 and 64 are unemployed. In 2019, half the population was under 17 years old. Immigration from neighbouring islands has meant that 48 percent of the population are foreign nationals. I heard one tour office representative comment that these immigrants, when they are told to leave Mayotte, leave their children behind so they can take advantage of the French welfare system until they are 18, which of course causes a problem for overworked welfare staff.

  

  

  

Mayotte has few sandy beaches for tourists, but these offer a variety of colours: black, brown, grey, red, and beige as well as white. I heard from fellow passengers, after I had taken my tour, that the highlight of the island is its lagoon. Unfortunately, I was unlucky in my choice of tour called South of the Island. The bus, despite being a local school bus, had no microphone system for the guide, though it did have air conditioning. The guide was very young, and I'm not convinced he knew what his job was - i.e. to provide, while in the bus, an introduction to his country, and to tell us what our tour was to consist of. Nor did he ever introduce himself or the driver.

  

  

  

Our tour of 3 and 3/4 hours consisted of three stops: a brown-sand beach called Musical Plage, containing a large elephant-leg baobab tree (for 15 minutes)--but to give the guide his due, he did show us what the baobab fruit looked like; another brown-sand beach called Tahiti plage (also a 15-minute stop); and finally an agricultural co-op called Coconi, where along with the use of their toilets, we were offered a choice of fruit juices--I had ginger and lemon which was quite spicy--and were supposed to see a dancing-singing, folklore presentation. As our bus driver got lost and took us to the wrong agricultural place, we were an hour late, so the entertainment for the other three buses had started without us. I had particularly signed up for this tour based on the offer of entertainment, so was quite disappointed to have missed it. There was also a garden with vanilla and ylang-ylang (cananga odorata) plants, so I photographed what I could, and luckily the staff were indulgent with my requests to photograph them. Apropos, perhaps I should talk about ylang ylang at this point. Native to the Philippines, this flower was introduced to islands of the Indian Ocean by the French at the end of the 18th century. The bright yellow blooms produce an oil with a strong scent used for fragrances, medicine, aromatherapy, and cooking. To make harvesting easier, the bushes are pruned to no more than 9.8 feet high. Flowering occurs several times a year and blossoms are collected in the early morning. It takes several tons of flowers to produce an ounce of the oil. Exports of the essential oil average 10 to 20 tonnes annually.

 

  

  

After being dropped off at the pier at the end of the rather unsuccessful tour (the guide did not say goodbye either), I wandered around the market and the waterfront on my own and, luckily, here there were plenty of subjects to photograph. Only one lady denied me a photograph when I asked her. I visited the tourist centre to pick up some brochures to learn more about the island and met an artist (originally from Madagascar) selling his paintings at the side of the tourist office building and had a long chat with him.

  

  

  

What's more, I saw my first gold dust day gecko (Phelsuma laticauda). When I pointed it out rather excitedly to the tourist office representative, she was rather blasé about it and said she sees them all the time. According to her, they are, in fact, a bit of a pest as they leave trails of tiny droppings on the inside walls of her house that she has to clean off frequently! She also mentioned that Mayotte has a water problem.

  

  

 

One final remark: You will no doubt have noticed that some of the women in my photos are wearing masonjoany, a cosmetic paste and sunscreen made of ground wood, on their faces as both a protective and decorative mask. This practice is also seen in Madagascar and Comoros.

We are finally in Madagascar, the fourth largest island on earth, my 139th country, and one I have been longing to visit. According to Google, the population is 30,325,732 as of June 2023, which is 0.38% of the total world population, ranking number 50 in the list of countries (and dependencies) by population. The population density in Madagascar is 52 per Km2 (135 people per mi2).

  

We will be calling at four ports in this country, which is also French speaking, though Malagasy is the local official language. First, some background information. “Madagascar split from the African continent around 160 million years ago. This isolation from the mainland has led to the development of its own distinct ecosystems and extraordinary wildlife, making it an extremely important biodiversity hotspot. Scientists estimate that around 90% of the plants and 85% of the animals found in Madagascar are endemic to the island. Many of these species are limited to small geographic areas on the island known as micro-endemism.” Andoany in Nosy Be is home to black lemurs, sportive lemurs, mouse lemurs and the Nosy Be panther chameleon, “known for [its] bright blue colouring.”

  

“The baobab tree, also known as the tree of life, the upside-down tree, and the monkey-bread tree, is widely regarded as the national symbol of Madagascar. Belonging to the genus Andansonia, there are nine species of baobab worldwide with six of them found in Madagascar. These giants can grow up to 30m tall, with trunks as wide as 11m in diameter. The swollen trunks of the baobab can store as much as 120,000 litres of water, which enable them to endure extremely harsh conditions. Every part of the tree is valuable ... As well as being used for shelter, the bark can be turned into rope and clothing, the seeds can be used to make cosmetic oils, the leaves are edible, the trunk can store water, and the fruit is rich in nutrients and antioxidants. Madagascans believe that baobabs hold the spirits of the dead and regard them as extremely sacred trees. The baobab also plays an important part in African culture: ancient ethnic groups believed that the tree held magical properties, which would help them make wise decisions. [Consequently], important leaders would hold meetings under the branches of the trees to discuss crucial matters.”

  

“Formerly known by its old French name of Hell-ville, Andoany is the capital of the Madagascan island of Nosy Be. Located just off the north-western coast of Madagascar, Nosy Be is ... home to the wildlife-rich Lokobe National Park, ... the last remaining primitive forest in the region, and known for being the home of the rare black lemur and the Nosy Be Panther Chameleon. A true natural gem of the island, the park consists of 740 hectares of reserve and accounts for most of the remaining flora and fauna endemic to the island. The primary forest is teaming with wildlife such as lemurs, chameleons, reptiles including boas, green geckos, and lizards, as well as many different species of bird, including the impressive paradise flycatcher and small kingfishers. It also shelters many species of endemic medicinal plants and ancient trees.”

  

Well with a description like that, of course I had to take the tour that was to go there, called simply Lokobe National Park, though 'teaming' might not be the word I'd use. The description, however, failed to mention the overwhelming number of photo opportunities with local people at the two villages involved in our tour, Ambatozavavy and Ampasipohy. Once again, we were a convoy of several minibuses and our guide, Nicolas, was excellent. It had rained last night so the roads were wet and in some places, there were giant puddles. We also came across one section among fields of rice and ylang ylang that was being repaired, which made for a bit of a bottle neck, though there were female road workers holding stop and go signs. As we drove along potholed roads through fields of various crops, such as coffee and jackfruit, Nicolas explained that trees had been cut down to grow rice on the mountain but after three crops the rice didn't grow as well so they moved to a different area. This was causing deforestation without any replanting going on. The locals (he cited a population on Nosy Be of 207,000 though my online research showed significantly lower statistics, but I am guessing many villagers aren't even registered so our guide's estimate is probably closer to reality) cook with charcoal rather than gas or electricity because they are expensive. He also said that girls in the countryside often weren't sent to school as it was far from where they lived and, more importantly perhaps, often when girls did go to the city, they discovered new ideas from the internet and Facebook, and soon fell pregnant and were too ashamed to return to their families, so ended up as teenage single mothers living in the streets in the city.

  

  

After a long but interesting ride with plenty to see and watch out the window, we arrived at the Sakalava village of Ambatozavavy where we transferred to pirogues (wooden canoes with a wooden outrigger i.e. a secondary hull fixed parallel to the canoe to stabilize it) with four wooden seats for us tourists plus two extra paddles, and, more importantly, a bailer, as I could see water trickling in from the sides and from the bottom through gaps between planks of wood. My pirogue contained an elderly couple, where the wife walked with the aid of two sticks, another single woman and myself. The male passenger in the front took up one of the paddles and the other single woman and I shared the responsibility of paddling and bailing, while a local, and presumably the boat owner, sat at the back and paddled as well. It was what they call a wet landing but also getting into the pirogues was done by wading into the water first, so we took our shoes and socks off--we had been instructed to wear stronger footwear for the walk in the forest rather then our usual sandals or flip-flops.

  

  

We then set off in a convoy of pirogues and I counted at least 20 canoes which meant we were a group of 88 persons in total. We wore life jackets and there were motorboats accompanying us in case of any unexpected accidents, I gathered, but it soon became evident that we were not paddling to our targeted village quickly enough, so these motorboats instructed the pirogue owners to throw out their tow lines and each motor boat then towed lines of 4 or 5 pirogues each releasing them just before the shore so we could paddle in for the last few metres and operate a wet landing. And what a welcome by the village! Groups of children, with their mothers mainly, clapping and singing; a little welcome message in the sand decorated with shells and flame tree flowers ... well you can imagine I was relieved I had decided to bring my good camera, despite the suggestion in the brochure tour description to leave valuables on the ship, though I had wrapped everything in plastic bags inside my backpack, and, of course, had brought a few small bills in case I wanted to buy anything.

  

  

After photographing our reception committee, we arrived at the restaurant area where we were invited to wash the sand off our feet in running water and to use the flush toilets. (I learned that part of our tour cost goes to the village, not only so they can live a little better, but also to provide a few comforts for the many tourists that visit, such as these flush toilets--including toilet paper). Here we gathered into our various bus groups with our guides, were joined by local park guides, and set off into the forest, through the village, past more children dancing and singing and beating drums, and women with souvenirs to sell, including vanilla, pareos, and carved wooden and raffia animals, bracelets and much more. Telling those who asked me that I would take a look after our walk in the forest, I nonetheless stole glances of what was on offer. We were told by our guides that the items had been made by the villagers themselves, but later on when I saw the same things in other parts of Madagascar, I came to doubt that statement.

  

  

The first creature we saw before we had even reached the forested area was a panther chameleon walking across our path. I felt a rush thinking now one of my wishes had been fulfilled. It was more green than a blue though and eventually climbed up into a tree where I photographed it again--unless, of course, it was a different one. Once we were in the forest, and after seeing my first paradise flycatcher, the guides were set to work to find us Brookesia micra chameleons, the smallest existing chameleons, difficult to photograph with a long lens. I believe they produced four altogether during our walk. We were also pointed out the following wildlife: a boa constrictor tied around a tree, a day gecko on a tree trunk, a leaf-tailed lizard on a slimmer tree trunk near a body of running water--it was very hard to see originally as it was disguised--and finally some black lemurs high up in the tree branches. We were lucky because some of the groups didn't see these. I also photographed some of the huts in the village, amused at one point to see a solar panel attached to a grass roof. The village also had plenty of ducks and chickens as well as a zebu in a fenced yard.

  

  

We had more of the same dancing and singing and of course souvenirs on offer as we wound our way back through the village to the restaurant. Now I was saying to all the ladies who approached that I would take a look after lunch. What bothered me most, however, during all this was, that the dancing per se on offer in the inner part of the village--as opposed to the initial welcome on the beach--was inappropriate for 3, 4, 5 and-up-year-olds, who were the majority of those doing it, as it looked more like twerking, which is very sexually suggestive indeed. I wondered, had one of the older girls visited the city, discovered the internet and Facebook, as earlier related by our guide, seen this online, and introduced it to the other girls in the village? Or had an idiotic tourist in the past thought it wise to teach them twerking?

  

  

Now lunch time, we were offered local Madagascar beer (Three Horses Beer, or THB) as well as french-fried jackfruit snacks and then invited to a buffet of various dishes, all cooked beneath us as our particular table was located on a risen platform/verandah. I stayed away from the salads but did try fresh jack fruit for dessert. Another day gecko appeared on the wooden supports of the roof above us, and then a second smaller one, so I figured they were male and female because, as is the way of nature, the male began chasing the female and licking her tail.

  

Having finished my meal, I then went, as promised, for another walk around the village in search of colourful little raffia animals (lemurs and chameleons) I had seen before and compared prices among various stalls, finally settling on a fair price. I also looked for, but didn't find, a Madagascar bracelet to go with the ones I had from Kenya and Tanzania. I asked many vendors if they had one with the colours of the Madagascan flag, red, green, and white (showing them my others as guidance) but got the impression the locals were not familiar with their flag as they offered me bracelets of all colours including yellow. I was told there was a primary school in the village so had thought local information about their own country might be something basic they would be taught. Never mind, I thought. Perhaps I would find one in another town in Madagascar.

  

We then walked far, across the wet sand, in bare feet, to our pirogues, as it was now low tide and they were further out. Miraculously, among all the confusion, I was able to find the one I had come in, together with its owner in a bright yellow t-shirt. Our guide was nowhere to be found at that point. Nonetheless, it was all sorted out eventually, and once again, although we started out paddling, the motorboats soon decided it would be faster to tow us just as they had on the journey out. Upon our arrival back at Ambatozavavy, we were invited to wash our feet at their well platform before donning our socks and shoes once again and getting back into our minibuses and travelling the exact same route back to our ship. Nicolas continued his interesting spiel telling us about some of the unusual cultural aspects of his people and answering any questions we had. When asked where the villages we had seen by the sea got their water, he mentioned that Nosy Be was a volcanic island containing seven crater lakes. The life expectancy for men here is 61 while for women it is 65. Cows are given to a bride's family as a dowry by the groom's parents when they marry. He also talked about the circumcision of boys (luckily for Madagascan girls, there is no custom of female genital mutilation). This happens at the age of five. The village gets together about 10 boys of the same age and has a celebration for them at the end of which the boy's uncle eats his nephew's removed foreskin raw with a liberal dose of alcohol. In fact, alcohol plays an important role at all celebrations in Madagascar, and they drink to become drunk. The final anecdote I retained was about the lack of inheritance in a certain ethnic group in the south of Madagascar--or perhaps he meant in the south of Nosy Be. When a man dies, with a wealth of cows, whether it's 50, 100, or 500, for example, all must be slaughtered and eaten, and their heads put on stakes around the man's grave. Around 5 to 10 years after his death, his bones are exhumed. They save the skull and bones and make an altar to worship their ancestor, asking him to send messages to God to ask for things. Otherwise, where food is concerned, Madagascans--or perhaps only those in Nosy Be--eat chicken for special occasions only, while carrots and potatoes are eaten rarely, and the main vegetables consumed are onions, garlic, and jack fruit.

  

To sum up today: I felt somewhat fulfilled. I had captured masses of photos of villagers, had seen a chameleon and black lemurs (although not up close), and had gotten some exercise. Definitely, it had been one of the better excursions on this cruise. However, I still wanted to see more lemurs and, why not, some different coloured chameleons. Luckily, we would be in Madagascar for four more days, so surely there would be further opportunities.

  

Today was an extra day not on our original itinerary because, we were told, a larger, German cruiseship was currently at the sole berth in our next port. Moreover, since the only tour on offer was not worth the money, according to other passengers who had taken it yesterday, I met up with my cabin neighbour, P, who is about 10 years older than me and walks with a stick, and negotiated a tuk-tuk (a motorized rickshaw) at great length to take us to Lemurialand, which a couple of passengers had recommended to her. Getting the tuk-tuk driver (or rather his brother who was older and more aggressive) down to about a quarter of his original quote (i.e. down to the rate that had been paid by the tour recommenders yesterday), we drove through the rain about 15 minutes to what was more of a zoo than a free-range park we had been led to believe, although thankfully most animals were not in cages, though they did have separate sections. A tour guide called Jules insisted on taking us round and four more people from the ship arrived in another two tuk-tuks and joined us. Although there were some tortoises, including two giant ones from the Seychelles, and crocodiles (in enclosures mind you), we were really there to see the lemurs (ring-tailed and crown for the most part, as well as a white one) and chameleons, as we hadn't seen much of either yesterday and for me these two animals represent Madagascar. We saw about 3 species of lemurs, less than we had been promised but the guide said others were farther back in the forest (but when we asked, he said he couldn't take us there). He also said there were only two similar-looking chameleons, which contradicted the photos on the brochure we had been shown when negotiating the tuk-tuk ride. Despite all that, however, it was worth it. The rain eventually stopped. (The ticket office had offered us umbrellas, which the guide kindly held over me as I photographed the animals.) At the end of the tour as we wandered back, accompanied by our tuk-tuk driver, and making a stop at the gift shop but buying nothing, there were various flowers (the yellow ones being held by the tuk-tuk driver, as it happens, are ylang ylang), children, and butterflies to photograph as well as a millipede. I admit I have posted perhaps a few too many photos of the cute lemurs, but as there isn't much text for you to read today, I hope you'll allow me this one indulgence.

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

Instead of taking us back to the pier as we had negotiated, we asked our tuk-tuk driver to drop us at the market, which he did, and I managed to get a few photos there. One of these is of an older woman pushing into plastic water bottles what looked like spaghetti in a red sauce. Apparently, I learned later, it is some kind of pickle or spicy sauce the locals eat with their main dishes. I later saw masses of recycled water bottles containing similar material being sold all over the place. However, I was not only concerned that she was using her hands to do this but later I saw her using an old stick to help push the concoction even in further into the plastic water bottles. Given that the opening of water bottles is rather narrow for fingers anyway, this was probably a better method, but I wasn't certain how much more sanitary the stick would be compared to her fingers! We then took our time strolling back down the hill to the pier, photographing on the way. One of these photos shows P with a young man who came up to us out of the blue and started speaking in Spanish, which was a surprise. Of course, I answered in Spanish and asked him where he had learned it. He was clearly a beginner but so uninhibited about practicing it with strangers, I predict he'll go far, as he has an ear for languages. Some of the people I asked to take photos of asked me for compensation (and yes, I paid if I really wanted their photo), while others protested not at all. By the way, in case you are as curious as I was, the elderly woman at the market in the fifth photo below is 70. I asked her.

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

“Antsiranana is located in Northern Madagascar and is the capital of the Diana Region. Formerly known as Diego Suárez, it is believed to have been named after Portuguese explorer Diego Soares, who visited the island in 1544. In 1975, the city reverted back to its Malagasy names of Antsiranana, although it is still widely known as Diego ... The area is best known for its two national parks, Amber Mountain National Park and Ankarana National Park ... At Ankara National Park, the highlight is the 150-million-year-old Jurassic limestone formation”--the tsingy (explained in paragraph three).

  

  

“Antsiranana and the surrounding area was once occupied by the French, who used the city as a coaling station for military and commercial steamships. It was also a coveted location during WWII following the fall of France in 1940. In 1942, as Japan's hold started to spread across Asia into the Indian Ocean, the Allies recognized the importance of Antsiranana. If the Japanese Military managed to gain access to the deep-water harbour here, enemy submarines and aircraft could wreak havoc on the British convoys who were en route to the Far East, cutting off vital lifelines to British Forces stationed in these regions. On May 5, 1942, the Allies captured Antisiranana in a campaign known as Operation Ironclad. The seizure of the port saw the initiation of the Battle of Madagascar as the British sought to capture the entire island, the subsequent campaign of which was known as Operation Stream Line Jane. [After] the end of WWII, Madagascar sought independence [and succeeded] on March 26, 1960.”

  

  

Ankarana National Park, where I would be going, is home to extraordinary wildlife, says the brochure “and the other-worldly landscapes of the Tsingy, a small plateau [consisting] of 150-million-year-old spiky Jurassic limestone. This rare, natural phenomenon is a geological oddity which has been shaped by erosion from rainwater, and displays sharp pointed spars, ridges, sunken forests, fissures, and sinkholes. The origin of the word 'tsingy' is unclear, but it is widely believed to have been derived from the Malagasy word for 'the place where one cannot walk barefoot.' According to local history, the term originated during the 17th century when a civil war was raging on in Madagascar, and people fled to these rocky formations to hide, only venturing out under the cover of darkness to forage for food. Due to the sharpness of the rocks, they had to ... navigate the jagged spikes [carefully] to prevent injuries while also remaining undetected by patrolling troops. The Tsingy Rouge can also be found on the island. Although the name gives the impression that this is another natural karst landscape, it's actually quite different from the Tsingy of Ankarana. Made from laterite, the craggy pinnacles are comprised of an iron-oxide rich soil, giving them an intense red-brick colour. The natural pigments ... found in the soil, ochre, magenta and vermilion, are used by the locals for face paint and natural dyes.”

  

  

As you may have guessed, my tour today was called The Tsingy of Ankarana National Park and indicated as a full day tour lasting nine hours. In view of all the potholes and uneven roads our 4x4 driver had to negotiate, it actually took a bit longer than nine and we were among the last to arrive back at the ship at the end of the day, easily an hour later than the all-on-board call. Nevertheless, because it was an excursion booked through the ship, the vessel waited for us. Our particular 4x4 consisted of a couple from Australia though originally from South Africa, myself, the driver, and guide, Christophe, who didn't actually tell us much. He sat in the back of the 4x4 which doubled as a boot/trunk, so I don't know how comfortable he was. It was an interesting drive out, through Diego Suarez with a stop to fill the tires with air at a gas station cum restaurant cum hotel, past flame trees, several villages, and road-side markets, clothes being washed in streams and spread over the grass to dry, and so much more that was difficult to photograph, given our speed. We also came across several zébu-driven carts, zébu being African cattle with a hump that, like camels, it uses to store fat, which is then used during hot, dry spells when access to food and water is limited. As usual, we were travelling in a convoy and, at one point, I saw a number of our 4x4s on the side of the road, so we stopped and realized that they were all photographing a yellow chameleon, so of course we photographed it too. From looking it up online afterwards, I gather it was a panther chameleon, which, although usually green, had turned yellow to camouflage itself in the field it was in as it hung onto a young sapling. Apparently, the people in the lead car had seen it run across the road. We also passed the turn-offs to both Amber Mountain and the Red Tsingy, mentioned above, and kept on going, finally arriving at Ankarana National Park and our first chance to use toilets after three and a half hours. Once again, we were a large group, and although they had divided us into at least three or four groups of 20 per guide, there were actually three guides (one main one and two assistants) in my group, though it was still too large to actually hear what the lead guide was saying. The other problem was that many of my fellow passengers on this tour were elderly, physical unfit, and although two of them turned back when they realised it was difficult terrain to walk, many more who shouldn't have attempted it carried on. One fellow behind me was audibly struggling with his breath and I stopped a few times to ask if he was alright. He finally told me he appreciated my concern but really didn't need me asking him all the time! In any case, he struggled through it all, to my great surprise.

  

  

We finally reached our goal, a view of the tsingy across a valley (rather a let down for me since I am not into rocks but was there for the wildlife). I had imagined lemurs leaping across the tsingy and that we would be up close to photograph them. Instead, they were rather far away although visible, and I had to content myself with the few representatives of wildlife we saw on our walk, a chameleon, a snake, a boa, a couple of skinks, three paradise flycatchers, Madagascan Flatid Leaf Bugs (Phromnia rosea) on a tree, a red fody, a millepede, and about three lemurs, though they weren't close enough to identify which kind they were and of course lots of invisible birds high up in the trees. Not a great deal all told, so I compensated by photographing some waitresses and a couple of youths at the restaurant we all went to for lunch afterwards, which due to the prolonged walk didn't start until about 1:30. There were a number of dishes as usual, including vegetarian options (and Madagascar Three Horses Beer), and a wide selection of fruit for desert, including lychees, which apparently grow in Madagascar. At the restaurant, we were visited once again by two day geckos and had fun photographing them. They were larger than the ones I had seen in Mayotte and Nosy Be, so I suspect they were in fact Madagascar Giant Day Geckos (Phelsuma madagascariensis grandis).

  

  

 

Réunion, a large island in the Indian Ocean at 63km (39 miles) long, 45km (28 miles) wide, and with a surface area of 2,512km2 (970 square miles), is a French overseas region with white and black sand beaches, soaring mountains, several volcanos, emerald forests, and cascading waterfalls, or so the brochure says. It was “uninhabited until the 17th century before French immigrants arrived. Its tropical climate led to the development of plantations mainly focused on [sugar production].” Morphologically speaking, “five million years ago, two underwater volcanos located deep in the Indian Ocean began to erupt. Over the next three million years, the volcanos grew tall enough to emerge from the sea, rising up over 4,000m above the ocean floor. One of these volcanos, Piton des Neiges, now stands 3,069 metres above sea level. Its total height from the sea floor makes it almost as tall as Mount Everest. Its neighbour, the formidable Piton de la Fournaise, is one of the most active volcanos on Earth. Together these volcanos form the island of Réunion. Unlike most volcanos, which are associated with tectonic plate boundaries, the Réunion volcanos are created by a volcanic hotspot similar to those found in Hawai'i and Yellowstone [National Park]. The Réunion hotspot is believed to have been active for at least 66 million years and it is thought that these prehistoric eruptions may have contributed to the extinction of dinosaurs. Over the last ten million years, they have created the Mascarene Islands,” which include Mauritius.

  

Here we were back in France on our tour called The Wild South, but oh! what a difference from Mayotte! I truly felt I was in southern France with well-maintained, paved highways, road signs like in France, palm trees, and more. The only pity is that it was a Sunday morning, and no one was about--oh and the fact that there were intermittent drizzles, which made visibility poor. Those people that were about were all white-skinned, and boulangeries and patisseries abounded, though of course they were closed. According to our guide, Jean-Pierre, who too was white-skinned, the life expectancy here is 78 for men and 84 for women. He also informed us that before the 1980s, Reunionnais had 6 children per family but now it was down to 2.4. This island nation, a department of France with its own departmental flag (974), I learned to my surprise, is expected to reach one million inhabitants in 2037, although according to Google its current population is 978,000, so the million mark isn't that far away. And as a department of France, St. Joseph, the southern-most town of Réunion is consequently the southern-most point in the European Union. Unfortunately, despite their European advantages, people on the island, Jean-Pierre told us, were in a state of despair though he didn't tell us why exactly. Despair leads to alcoholism, and alcoholism, to misery and criminality, he said. There has been more than one case of perfectly friendly Réunionnais murdering each other over a game of cards when drunk. Perhaps this despair is due to the basic 600 euros per month income and prices being 50% higher here than in metropolitan France, if I understood correctly. However, although the unemployment rate used to be 30% it has now dropped to 17% and 54% of families own their own home, even if it is only a sheet-metal house. Another factor is that annual exports amount to 500 million euros but imports amount to eight billion and the Réunionnais are eating more and more like Europeans every day, when years ago they subsisted on a simpler diet of rice and beans. Now they import flour to make (French) bread, medications, cars, and petrol, as well as tool machinery from places like France, Germany, and Singapore (the quality of petrol found in Réunion being required to respect European standards, rather than those of China). In return, Réunion exports (sells?) tourism where 90% of tourists come from France, then German-speakers, and fewer English-speakers. Behind tourism, other exports are sugar, fishing, and cars. Why cars you ask? Well, the answer is that there are almost no old cars in Réunion. People sell their old cars to dealers who export them as second-hand vehicles to Madagascar, where people have no money to buy new cars.

  

Now Réunion is the richest island in this part of the world. In 1946, life expectancy was 40. Moreover, the majority of the population was illiterate and living in straw huts at the time Réunion became a French department. Today 55% of students are able to pass their high school finishing exams successfully (the bac) and in 50 years of advancement, the infant mortality rate has dropped from 250 per thousand to the European standard of 4 per thousand today. Another thing I noticed is that any dogs I saw were on a leash--and not left to roam unattended in the streets like all of other countries we have visited since Malta. I also saw tropicbirds, mynahs, pigeons, and weaver nests. A couple more interesting facts: the main productions here are sugarcane and vanilla and you are considered Creole if both you and your parents were born in Réunion. At least I think that's what I heard. The bus we travelled in was big, European, and modern, but the air conditioner covered up Jean-Pierre's voice. The first time this happened, I asked for the a/c to be turned off. It wasn't a hot day anyway but later in the afternoon, when it was turned on again, I decided not to say anything. The guide told us he hadn't led a tour in English for about 30 years and it sounded to me like he was reading from notes (or a book) in English because he gave us his spiel in chapters: history, geography, morphology, economy, music, etc.

   

Despite this, however, he was a friendly guy and certainly willing to talk to me in French. Again, there was a lot of driving (and consequently sitting in the bus) on this tour and very few stops, and although we were supposed to visit a spice garden and learn about the production of vanilla, we never did (and consequently, I might add, we were reimbursed half our tour price.) Whose fault it was was never explained because as I said the roads were perfectly tarmacked and not full of potholes like other countries we have travelled in. Nor were there any work/school-related traffic jams since it was a Sunday. And as I mentioned earlier, hardly anybody was in the streets. We did have a couple of stops to stretch our legs. The first was on the coast at a point called Cap méchant--a cliff top with very strong waves. The second was in the middle of a lava flow caused by Le Piton de la Fournaise erupting on April 2, 2007 (one of 100 eruptions since the 17th century) to demonstrate how nature adapts with plants growing among the lava flows. Our final stop on the South coast before heading back along the same highway was at Sainte-Rose, and the church called Notre Dame des Laves. This was considered a miracle because at an eruption of Le Piton de la Fournaise in 1977, the flow of lava, which sped down the mountain slopes into the Indian Ocean, parted miraculously at the doors of this church, while the terrain around it was swept clean away, destroying many of the village's crops and homes. I found no wildlife to photograph here save for one dead lizard on its back being pestered by flies.

  

Heading back then toward the Port of Réunion, called, aptly, Le Port, we stopped for lunch at Le Palmier restaurant located in a lovely property with palm trees and various flowers within view of the sea. Our tables were located on the verandah among the trees and flowers as well as red fodies, bulbuls and more. I can't remember what we ate but instead of beer as we have been offered in other countries lately, each table was provided with a bottle of French bourdeaux wine.

  

The sun came out in the afternoon during our bus ride back and finally we spied people of all skin colours enjoying the parks and the beaches, picnicking. As there had been nowhere to shop on our tour for souvenirs, given that this was our only day in Réunion, we were lucky that a local artist had decided to set up a stall by the immigration building and offer her wares (clothing made from cloth she had dyed) as well as a few other bits and bobs so I bought a dress, a pareo and a pair of trousers as well as a magnet and a bracelet for a reasonable sum. Back on board as we left Réunion through the drizzle again, a marvellously bright rainbow arced over the ship and stayed with us for quite a while. A camera, even a good one, can never do justice where rainbows are concerned, but I gave it a try anyway.

   

“Île aux Aigrettes (Island of Egrets) is a small island in Mahébourg Bay. Unlike mainland Mauritius, which is of volcanic origin, and was formed 8 million years ago, Île aux Aigrettes consists of coralline limestone. It contains the last remaining dry coastal forest that once covered most of Mauritius. During WWII, the British used it as a military base and cleared out most of the native plants. The Mauritian Wildlife Foundation (MWF) made it a nature reserve [and has been] leasing the island from the government since 1986. They removed alien vegetation, rats, cats, and other small predators from the island, and re-introduced rare native plants and animals. Many of the plants now flourishing on the island can only be found here, and a number of species have been successfully rescued from the brink of extinction, including the Mauritius Kestrel, Echo Parakeet, and Pink Pigeon.”

  

Wanting to explore the islands of Mauritius (my 140th country, by the way), since the other tours on offer did not seem as interesting to me after my unexciting experience of Réunion yesterday, I was not, however, expecting to find Mauritius so developed. Like Réunion, it had a well-paved highway and first-world buildings. I was curious about the fact that cars drove on the left side like in England, yet the natives, besides Creole, were speaking French to each other rather than English. I saw signs in either English or French and even a few in Creole. So, after getting on our minibus for our small group of 16, I asked our guide what the official language of Mauritius was. The answer she gave was that French and Creole are spoken in the street, but English is the language of administration. She also explained that Mauritius was first discovered by Arab sailors in 975 and then the Portuguese arrived in 1507, followed by the Dutch in 1598, who named it after Maurice, the Prince of Orange. The Dutch stayed for its forests of ebony, and established sugar and arrack (the local fire water) production. Next, France took control in 1715, renaming the island Isle de France. In 1810, the British seized the island and four years later, under the Treaty of Paris, France ceded Mauritius and its dependencies to the United Kingdom. Mauritius gained independence in 1968 and is Africa's only country with full democracy. The World Bank classifies it as a high-income economy. Due to the number of inhabitants originally from India, the most practised religion here is Hinduism. The government provides free universal healthcare and free education up to university level, as well as free public transportation for students, senior citizens, and the disabled. Its other claim to fame is that it was the only known home of the extinct dodo bird, images of which feature heavily in its souvenirs for tourists!

  

Our minibus drove us through the capital city of Port Louis on a highway out to the South-East of the Island near the airport to a place called Grand Port, where we were transferred to a motorboat that took us to the island. A placard at this site mentions the following: “About 80,000 years ago, the sea level was about 130 meters below the current level. The rising of the sea level resulted in the remoteness of the coral barrier reef and the formation of islets, which are usually named after birds or plants. ... Île-aux-Aigrettes spans about 27 hectares.”

  

I was expecting an island of white-sand beaches, but there were no beaches, and the island was quite small. We were met by a guide from the Mauritian Wildlife Foundation, who took us on a walk around the island, basically through woods and over limestone. We first stopped at a shaded platform where she introduced herself and the work of the MWF, which is a charity NGO to conserve endemic plants and animals. The 20-year restoration of Ile aux Aigrettes has been a success.

  

One of these successes has been the Pink Pigeon. In 1990 there were only nine of them left in the world. The MWF started a breeding program in 1976 and moved some of the birds to the island in 1994. The Pink Pigeon is endangered, is found only on Mauritius, feeds on buds, leaves, flowers, fruit and seeds, and lays 2 white eggs in a nest of twigs. Another success story is the Olive White-eye, a tiny bird whose chicks are no bigger than the first section of an average human thumb. The first chicks hatched here in 2008 due to conservation efforts. These birds are critically endangered, found only in Mauritius, feed on nectar and insects, and lay up to five pale green eggs. We were shown one of these birds up in the trees, but it was far too tiny and quick for me to photograph, unfortunately.

  

Another bird of mention is the Mauritius Fody seen in my photos here. From 1970 to 1993, the number of these birds had dropped by 60% and needed to be saved from extinction. Birds rescued from elsewhere were brought to the island, formed pairs, and successfully bred. This species is critically endangered, is found only on Mauritius though it is often confused with the Madagascar Fody (the Mauritius Fody as you will see has only a red head and neck while the Madagascar Fody you will have seen in others of my photos has much more red on it). However, strangely enough, the male Mauritius Fody has this bright red head only in the breeding season, or as our guide put it “the loving season.” It feeds on insects, fruits, nectar, seeds, and eggs, and lays up to four eggs.

  

A reptile rescued from elsewhere from the brink of extinction and brought to this island is the Telfair Skink, which is considered vulnerable and the largest living Mauritian lizard. It feeds voraciously on seeds, fruits, insects, reptiles, and small animals, and lays soft shelled eggs in damp, sandy soil. The MWF have also introduced about 20 adult Aldabra Giant Tortoises and when they eat the leaves and fruits of plants, they disperse seeds and new plants grow. However, there are some very rare, native plants growing on the island and luckily for the plants, the tortoises are quite fussy about the shape and colour of the leaves they eat. Many of the native plants growing on the island are heterophyllous, whereby the leaves of young plants are different from those of adult plants. Young plants tend to have long, red-coloured leaves, which appear as dangerous and foul-tasting to the tortoises, while adult plants tend to have soft, green leaves and are very tasty to the tortoises. The leaves change shape and colour as the plant reaches a height of 1.20 meters, which is too high for the giant tortoises to reach. Aldabra Giant Tortoises are considered vulnerable and are native to the Seychelles and Aldabra Island. The females are smaller than the males, they feed mainly on plants, and lay up to 25 eggs. Some of the most endangered plant species also endemic to Mauritius include Bois d'Ebène (Diospyros egrettarum) and Bois de Boeuf (Gastonia mauritiana), whose young plants are especially adapted to avoid being eaten by tortoises.

  

Our young female guide (age 23) next took us to visit cages containing small tortoises they were breeding for later release into the wild once they had reached the age of 10 years. Then we visited a cage containing two large fruit bats, hanging upside down. After that she brought us to a greenhouse where seeds were collected, and new plants cultivated. The large flowers you see were lying on the ground having fallen from the bushes. We were told they were hibiscus, which blossom as yellow and then turn red before they fall off. The large lizard on the rock is a statue, while the gecko on the green background by the bat cage is a Mauritius ornate day gecko (Phelsuma ornata).

  

We had about an hour on the island and after our tour were taken to visit their small boutique and then accompanied back to the landing to take our motorboat back to the mainland. We were then driven to the town of Mahébourg and were given 45 minutes of free time to visit its market (full of clothing and a small selection of souvenirs). Not finding much in the market that I wanted to photograph, I wandered toward the sea front, and then into the fruit and vegetable market and around the streets, where I finally stumbled upon a private house and garden, inside of which was a bird feeder for fodies, weavers and I also photographed a zebra dove.

  

Our next stop was lunch on the verandah of the Jardin du Beau Vallon restaurant, where we had the local beer, Phoenix, (distilled locally using hops and malt imported from Germany and South Africa) as well as delicious but manageable portions of chicken salad and fish, with coconut mousse for dessert, as we overlooked a garden of green grass and coconut trees dotted with Indian mynah birds. I learned that there are no poisonous animals in Mauritius. Local wildlife include deer, monkeys, wild boar and one species of snake, and there are three tea factories with their plantations.

  

 

Our final visit was to the National History Museum located in Gheude Castle, a French colonial mansion built around 1770 in Mahébourg, which gives a passing mention to the dodo bird but has only a few bones to show for it as the model reconstruction of a life-size Dodo from skeletal remains is housed at the Natural History Museum in Port Louis, the capital of Mauritius. For those of you not familiar with the species, “the dodo is an extinct flightless bird that existed only on the island of Mauritius. [It] was about one meter (3 ft 3 inches) tall and may have weighed 10 to 18kg (22 to 40lb) in the wild.” The museum also contains a vast amount of naval history and two palinquins (covered litters for one passenger, consisting of a large box carried on two horizontal poles by four or six bearers) carried by slaves while the first French governor of Mauritius, Bertrand-François Mahé, comte de La Bourdonnais (11 February 1699 - 10 November 1753), was seated inside!

A second island of Mauritius, which I visited today, was located in the same Bay as the island from yesterday, the 353-hectare Blue Bay Marine Reserve, which meant we took the exact same route by minibus as yesterday (and coincidently had the same driver, though not the same tour guide). This particular guide, Dominique, told us that French, English, and Creole are taught in Mauritius, which has a population of 1.3 million, from the age of kindergarten, and as a result of this trilingualism, many call centres are located in Mauritius and many Mauritians work on cruise ships. Our guide admitted that she spoke six languages, the three already mentioned plus two Indian languages and Italian. She pointed out a couple of the colourful, pink-based Hindu temples known for being those of Tamil speakers (from Southern India and Sri Lanka). Meanwhile, the churches here are built from volcanic rock, mosques are coloured green and white, Buddhist temples, red and green, and most Hindu temples, red and white. We also learned from her that Mauritius exports twenty varieties of mango, and imports wheat from Australia and rice from India.

  

  

  

Now to describe my day at Île des Deux Cocos (in English, Two Coconut Trees Island), a private island currently owned by a company called LUX Resorts & Hotels, and containing a restaurant and a restored 252-square-meter, 2-bedroom Moorish-style villa with a private swimming pool, which once belonged to Sir Hesketh Bell, governor of Mauritius from 1916 to 1924. The island is apparently named after its two abandoned coconut plantations. It is said that pirates once inhabited the island and buried some treasure here!

  

  

  

It was a nice, small group again and the only other tourists on the island were a few Germans from the cruise ship Aida Blu, berthed across from us at Port Louis, and one or two families, which kept to themselves. I first took a walk around the island to see what it consisted of, and photographed a couple of flowers but found no wildlife (nor any buried treasure for that matter). When I arrived back at the main beach and restaurant/bar area, I changed into my swimming things and joined a group in a glass-bottomed boat to go snorkeling. It is unfortunate that the coral was all bleached/dead but there were groups of fish to view, about five species: grey with black stripes, yellow-tail fish, and long skinny ones, as well as the odd parrot fish, and a brown species with a blue phosphorescent strip on their lower edge. Some pieces of bread were thrown into the water, and this brought the fish in droves. However, since we couldn't wander far due to currents, and tired of seeing the same fish (instead of the 72 different corals of up to 800 years old and 32 different species of fishes reportedly found here), I got out of the water via a challenging ladder and back onto the boat.

  

  

Back on land again, we were offered unlimited drinks from the bar. Lunch was at noon, and it was quite a smorgasbord of dishes for a relatively small number of people. We were also entertained by a musician on guitar and mouth organ, who was very good and sang our requests. In addition, we were invited to sample their home-flavoured rum. As the dirty dishes were removed from our tables with left-over food in them, sparrows, weavers, mynahs, bulbuls, and fodies came down from the trees to peck at said left-overs, giving me a chance to photograph them. I then visited the boutique and bought a bracelet of Mauritius, a magnet with a dodo on it, and a small painted, wooden dodo. Then I sat and read for a while on a sunbed between a couple of Germans and a couple of Northern Brits and read until it was time to leave at about 3:00 p.m., at which time the beach was visited by two wading curlews. As we were driven back to our ship via the same route, I admired the curious, jagged shapes of the mountains in the not-too-far distance.

  

 

For our third day in Mauritius, I had chosen to visit yet another island, Île aux Cerfs, (English translation Island of Deer) in the hope that it would be even better than yesterday. Again, I had looked up their website, and it seemed to offer similar perks, with the inclusion of parasailing at a cost. I had parasailed once in my life before, in St. Martin in the Caribbean, back in 1989, when my eldest brother had had a job at a marina there. I remember enjoying the complete silence up there in the sky as I flew.

  

  

We were another small group of 15, including our local guide and ship escort, but this time we drove in a large bus to the east of Mauritius, to a place called Trou d'Eau Douce, and to a pier not far from the entrance to the Shangri-la Le Touessrok Hotel. The coach ride was about an hour and a half, and we arrived under a short sprinkle of rain having passed more sugarcane fields, introduced by the Dutch from Java, Indonesia in the 17th century. “During the French occupation in the 18th century, more than 60,000 slaves maintained the sugar cane cultivation. Following the abolition of slavery in the 19th century, the industry was then maintained by indentured labourers from India under the British rule. Today, the country produces an average of 300,000 tonnes of sugar each year of which 50% is exported. Although sugar cane is found all over the island, the number of sugar factories has decreased significantly. The sugar industry,” in addition to producing animal feed, roofing, fertilizers, wood for furniture, ethanol, and molasses, “now incorporates the production of electricity from sugar cane in an effort to reduce the country's dependency on fossil fuels. Once the cane stalks have been crushed to extract the juice, which is used to produce sugar, they are fed into the thermal power plant, where it burns at over 500 degrees Celsius. This combustion powers turbines, which produce electricity, much of which will be fed into the national grid.”

  

  

A brief motorboat ride took us to a larger island than yesterday, divided into two sections, and to my horror, it was full of tourists of all ages. Once again, there was a large group here from the German cruise ship, Aida Blu. We were given a welcome drink and shown where we would be eating our lunch at noon. Then we were indicated the sunbeds that our price included, the toilets, and some shops by a humungous banyan tree. We were then left to do what we liked. I was wearing my bathing suit beneath my clothes, but I was not feeling tempted to enter the water as the sky was more or less clouded over and the water looked a bit rough, so I left my bags on a sunbed next to fellow passengers who confirmed they would be staying there, and headed off with my camera on a path through the woods parallel to the beach until I reached a sign that said propriété privée.

  

  

I looked for birds (which I could hear), geckos, which were invisible, and flowers, but didn't spy much of interest. I then looked at the shops and asked the information centre booth where on the island I could walk given the sign I had seen. I was told I could walk anywhere but that the path I had taken led to a golf course, so the sign was probably there as a deterrant to stop tourists getting hit by golf balls. The woman also told me there were dodgy bits and I should be careful and then she tried to sell me a parasail, which I turned down politely. Returning to my sunbed, I checked with my fellow passengers that all was well and then headed off toward the other side of the island but didn't see much there either except for a lesser heron, which flew off abruptly and a few flowers as well as a number of orange butterflies, which I followed until finally one of them settled on a leaf long enough for me to capture it on camera. I also watched three parasailing operations for a short while. I might point out that despite the island's name, there were clearly no deer here!

  

  

Twice I noticed a man spreading rice for the birds at different spots on the island. Doing so, of course, caused them to fly down off the trees so I could photograph them rather close up. However, they were all the same species of birds as yesterday: weavers, bulbuls, mynahs, sparrows, and red fodies, as well as spotted doves.

  

  

Lunch was served promptly, though the service itself was rather slow, and we were offered Mauritian Phoenix beer to wash it down. We were first presented with about five different salads with various meats in them, and then once that was cleared away, a huge platter of meat consisting of chicken legs, white fish, beef, and chicken sausages arrived. It was far too much after the huge salads. We tried our best but there were masses left over so hopefully it will feed others and not be thrown away. And then a plate with four different types of cake arrived for dessert! After lunch, I walked around a bit more, looked at the shops again, but bought nothing, and tried to see what photographic opportunities I might have missed. Then we were chased up at 2:30 p.m. to gather at the boat pier where we had to wait for about half an hour for our boat and driver to come over from the mainland ... as we watched passengers from the Aida ship get on their motorboats before us. The bus ride back to the ship was uneventful but again I was able to marvel at the jagged shapes of the mountains here.

  

  

 

“Located on the east coast of Madagascar, Toamasina is close to the island's vast rainforests, where exotic flora and fauna can be found. The town itself is a combination of palm-lined boulevards and colonial buildings, sitting alongside creole houses built on stilts. Close by is the Pangalanes Canal, a series of lakes created in French colonial times, bordered by lush vegetation, forests, and mangroves on one side, and the beaches of the Indian Ocean on the other ... Stretching over 348 nautical miles, the Pangalanes canal is a series of natural rivers and man-made lakes. Connected in the 19th century, the waterway facilitated the transport of export goods, including vanilla, coffee, litchis, wood, minerals, and cloves to the port of Tamatave, which is now known as Toamasina. Maritime navigation along Madagascar's east coast proved risky, as it was exposed to extremely violent and dangerous winds. The construction of the canal ensured a safe passage for barges and scows. Today, the canal is mostly used for pleasure cruising, although one may still spot local fishermen and small-scale trade ... The Betsimisaraka are the second largest ethnic group in Madagascar and make up around 15% of the population. They occupy a large stretch of the eastern coastal region of the island.”

  

  

  

  

My tour today called Pangalanes Canal and Tapakala Village promised a boat cruise along the canal with sights of traditional Betsimisaraka villages lining the banks as well as pirogues, local fishermen and rafts with straw huts carrying timber en route to Toamasina. We would then disembark at Tapakala village, located between the Pangalanes canal and the Indian Ocean, where we would have the opportunity to meet the locals, and visit their traditional houses made from Ravinala trees. It sounded ideal to me! It also promised a visit to their sacred place, but this was not the case and instead we were offered a visit to the market in Toamasina.

  

  

  

  

Our informative and friendly guide today was called Nedi and although we were 16 in the canal boats, wearing life jackets, there was only room for 8 in the minivans for our ride in the pouring rain though the town itself to the fluvial port where we boarded our boats. And although the boat ride started out in the rain, it did eventually stop, and the weather kept dry and even turned sunny during our visit to the village. It only started to rain again once we were back on the boats, which were covered so we kept dry for the most part.

  

  

  

  

You can imagine then that it was a combination of the river cruises of Goa and Kochi, but without the bird life, bats and crocodiles, and the village visits of our excursion to Lokobe National Park. I confess I went wild with my photography as the villagers were so friendly and wanted to learn about us as much as we wanted to learn about them. We had a good number of hours together all told on a 7-hour excursion, easily the best excursion so far, despite the rain. I can gauge this success from the number of photos I took today (544, the majority of them being of people though I confess there were one or two chameleons).

  

  

  

  

I was showing some of the children the photos I had taken of them, but their reaction was rather underwhelming, compared to my remembered experience with ethnic groups in Ethiopia in 2005. However, a photo I took of an older woman made her jump with surprise and delight, and I took it to mean that no one had taken her photo before. The village was clearly not immune to cameras and at the dancing-and-drumming show at the end of the village visit, several of the entertainers (who I assume were not from the village itself) were filming the entertainment with their own iPhones.

  

  

  

  

I should point out first some of the things we saw along the canal, which included people washing clothes, fishing, diving down to the bottom of the canal and bringing up baskets of sand to put in their boats (and carry it elsewhere for construction purposes), paddling their canoes to transport goods, or poling extremely long rafts of long bamboo for sale in the town, again for the purpose of constructing houses. There were also children just messing about in boats or swimming in the river and others using government-issued and probably overseas-charity-donated mosquito nets to fish with! I even managed to photograph a breast-feeding mother in another boat protected from the rain by a plastic sheet. Ducks and geese were also enjoying the river in the rain.

  

  

  

  

On our arrival at the village, we were entertained with singing and dancing by a group of adults, and the villagers were lined up along the main paths of earth, either with wares to sell, or holding flowers, or groups of singing and dancing children (not twerking this time, thank goodness), or sitting and standing and watching silently on the side of the path holding various babies in their arms, or just going about their work as usual, repairing fishing nets, threshing grain, grinding grain, eating, cooking, etc. After our initial entry, our guide took us round the village and showed us various living quarters. He also took us down to the canal, described as the place where women gathered to wash their clothes and exchange gossip. We were told there was a primary school in the village, but it wasn't shown to us. Chickens were running wild, and I spied a small kitten in one yard but there were no dogs and no cattle visible. One house clearly had an infestation of bees though people were going in and out of the front door seemingly without a care and the piece of paper stuck on the front door in Malagasy was not, as I had thought, a warning that there were bees there, but rather it was a notification from the government reminding people that mosquito nets were not to be used for fishing but rather to sleep under to prevent bites from malaria-provoking mosquitoes, at least that is what one guide told me when I asked him.

  

  

  

  

Apart from one little boy who had some tiny spots on his face, I, and another woman I have often found myself with on cultural excursions, called Sheila, were remarking to each other back on board our ship that the people all looked extremely healthy and had excellent teeth! I was also amused by a sign to an outhouse that said, 'toilet 1 euro.' The last time I had seen that price it was for a toilet in Venice! Clearly, the town had high expectations. So much for spending a penny, but perhaps that's inflation! I didn't see any of us passengers using it, however.

  

  

  

  

After about an hour of wandering through the town photographing, we were taken over to the other side of the village, to the Indian Ocean: a beautifully clean beach, with several canoes on it lying upside-down. Here there was a restaurant where the ship's crew had gathered to serve us ham and cheese sandwiches from the ship and had overseen the preparation of fruit for dessert to make sure it was healthy. We were also offered a drink from the bar, and I had another Madagascaran THB beer. It was then a bit of a them-and-us situation with all of us from the ship inside this restaurant or out on the verandah looking out and eating, and all the local children on the outside looking in watching us eat, clearly wanting to share our food. Besides beer there were also soft drinks on offer and some of the passengers not wanting their soft drinks, offered them to the children, and we were intrigued when one boy accepted the bottle of coke with thanks and then shared it with three other boys, each taking turns sipping from it. So, they were well brought up too. They were just watching, waiting, and smiling, not grabbing or stealing, and I had the impression, perhaps naively, they were possibly unused to the concept of stealing, living in a somewhat isolated village as they were. Yes, they were asking for things, like candy, but were not bothered when they didn't get any.

  

  

  

  

In the end, I think the ship had brought more than enough for us passengers, so a lot of fruit and a number of bottles of water and soft drinks were then made available for the children, which made them happy (the soft drinks, of course, not ideal for their beautiful teeth). One man from the crew had brought a drone, which kept them entertained for a while too. But I think what brought them and us finally all together were the groups of entertainers, and there were four or five, the main group being youths, hitting drums and dancing, because eventually we all--passengers, crew, and locals alike--gathered around and watched for what seemed like a good hour. The local tour guides all joined in and danced, and a couple of passengers were invited to dance with a couple of the young adult entertainers.

  

  

  

  

It was with a sad heart that we finally tore ourselves away from the beautiful setting by the white sands and turquoise water of the Indian Ocean, and returned to our boats, reluctantly heading down the canal again as the rain returned. It was still pouring in the town when our minivan stopped at the market. I was the only one in our group of eight who wanted to visit it. I ended up taking only a few photos there, but I had our guide all to myself, and he was able to help me find a Madagascar bracelet that I had been looking for since Nosy Be. And when I photographed one elderly woman in her 70s, she asked if there was anything she might sell me, and my eye hit on a lovely painting. When I asked the guide the price (the elderly woman spoke only Malagasy, not French), I was surprised that it was so affordable, so of course I seized the opportunity, and bought it on the spot without haggling. A younger woman who had helped change my US dollars into smaller amounts and had also removed the painting I had purchased from its frame, rolled it up, and put it in a plastic bag for me, then offered to sell me one of the paintings she had at her stall. I was sorely tempted but I was also mindful of the fact that the other seven passengers were waiting for me in the minivan, and I had told them I probably wouldn't take all 40 minutes allowed for the market visit, when in fact I had!

  

“Situated at the southern tip of Madagascar, Fort Dauphin [the name of the nearest town to the port] is built on a small peninsula and ... is bordered on three sides by beaches with a backdrop of high green mountain.” In nearby reserves, the well-known ring-tailed lemur, famous for its black and white tail, can be found “along with a variety of other lemur species including the Verreaux's Sifika, which has thick white fur and a long tail used for balance when leaping from tree to tree; the greater bamboo lemur, which is the largest of the bamboo lemurs; and the collared brown lemur, which is reddish-brown in colour with distinct orange eyes.”

  

  

Unfortunately for today's excursion options, the tour descriptions were misleading, and I realized too late this was not the tour I was supposed to be on. There were in fact three tours that offered the possibility of seeing lemurs, and the one I eventually (and clearly erroneously) chose called Domaine de la Cascade read as follows: “located in the middle of the tropical forest of Tsitongamabrika, it extends over 136 hectares and is home to valleys, mountains, river and waterfalls [and] you can also find endemic plants, such as the Nepenthes [(a tropical carnivorous plant)] and three-sided [or triangle] palm tree here as well as ring-tailed lemurs, dancing lemurs, chameleons, birds and reptiles.” It also mentioned a stop at the handicraft market in Fort Dauphin. To be fair, we did see a river and a waterfall, one skink, one boa, and a couple of chameleons, but none of the trees mentioned, and definitely no lemurs.

  

  

The day started out ominously. Since our tour meeting time was later than usual, I took the extra time I had to photograph the dancers and musicians welcoming us on disembarking the ship--especially the interesting hairstyles of the girls. As I stepped out of M.S. Bolette and onto the gangway, the wind blew my nice, new paper hat, made in China, and purchased earlier on in the voyage at the ship's boutique, off my head and into the sea. One of the crew offered to fetch the long pole and rescue it for me, but by the time he had donned his lifejacket and gone to fetch the pole, the hat had sunk and was no longer visible or retrievable. I laughed it off and said I had other hats and I'd bought that one on sale anyway. Then, event number two: as we were travelling again as a convoy of eight vehicles along a dusty road from the main highway--ten of us plus guide (Denis, a 23-year-old university student whose mother had died, and father had left so he was taking care of his three younger sisters) and ship's escort in our particular minivan--one of its tires exploded loudly. Luckily, we weren't too far away from the main town at that point, and the local tour agency was able to arrive fairly quickly with two 4x4s to take us the rest of our way. Consequently, we arrived too late for a visit to beehives and then to a vanilla plantation and its explanation, so I never did learn how vanilla, which I have been seeing and being offered constantly in markets, is cultivated.

  

  

Next, we were driven into what I assume was the forest of Tsitongamabrika, but all we were told was that the toilets were up there, so use them I did. Arriving back at the parking lot, I realised there was a path for us to take down into the valley and we could hear drumming and singing coming from somewhere below. On our walk there, we were shown a few plants but all there was to photograph were a few wooden statues and some flowers. We finally arrived at the bottom of the valley (not all that far actually) and walked along a path that led us through a nursery of plants, with a panel in three languages explaining that the “Andakatorano project in the communities of Manantantely and Soanierana is a three-year partnership, whose goal together with the local communities is to plant 100 hectares of forest trees, nut trees and other species in the Tsitongambarika Forest protected area buffer zone, so it can be home to many unique local species and play an important role in absorbing carbon from the atmosphere to help address climate change.”

  

  

We then met a couple of young foresters who showed us a boa and the two chameleons I mentioned before though I am not 100% certain they were not planted there for us to see. We had finally arrived at a central area (next to a waterfall, I noticed later) and invited to have a soft drink. I chose one that was supposedly flavoured with grenadine, though when I asked what the options were, the young lady serving them clearly didn't speak any French, though she did agree to my photographing her from my gesturing with my camera, I suppose. We were also offered fruit and various snacks so I chose a banana I could peel myself and sat by the waterfall to eat the banana and drink the grenadine soft drink. Our guide, Denis, then said we had an hour here and we could wander where we liked, though clearly there was nowhere much to wander. Seconds later, he invited me to join our group on a walk where he would show us some more plants. With nothing much to do, I joined the smaller group, and we did manage to see a skink and some dragonflies.

  

  

Then suddenly it was announced we did not have an hour after all. Instead, we were to leave immediately. Finding our group eventually among all the clumps of passengers, we walked back up to the parking lot and drove back to the ship. As mentioned earlier, we were given the chance to look at the (very small) handicrafts market, which was, in fact, not in town but actually right next to the port gate, but nobody in my 4x4 wanted to stop for it, so I ended up not insisting this time, and went back to the ship.

However, I still hadn't seen any lemurs as I had hoped, learning from other passengers that those on another tour I had not chosen called Nahampoana Reserve had. I also learned from one of the crew who had escorted the tour to the Botanical Garden of Saiadi that they too had seen lemurs, so I thought about hiring a tuk-tuk and going on my own or with others. I first talked to our tour guide, Denis, about this possibility and he basically said that since our morning tour was now over, he was available for hire for a private tour, and he could arrange to find a tuk-tuk driver for us. We talked about the price, and I decided I needed to get some more money from my cabin safe. I told him I would meet him at the handicraft market just outside the port gate as there was a free shuttle running all day for the 500-metre distance to the market (we were not allowed to walk this distance.)

  

  

About 15 minutes later, I was at the market, had a brief look round but saw nothing of interest and walked toward Denis, who was standing in the shade of a tree outside the market area. I gathered then that locals were not allowed to enter the market area if they were not actually market vendors. As I was walking toward my guide, another guide intercepted my path and asked if he could help me. When I explained I had already hired a guide, he started talking about Tourism Office rules and the cost of tuk-tuks, that to go to the place I wanted to see I would need a taxi because a tuk-tuk wouldn't be able to handle the pot holes, and that a taxi for three passengers cost X amount but as I was only one person I would have to pay the same price. So I told this person (well actually more than one person came up to talk to me about supposed rules) that I would see if I could find one or two other passengers from the market to join me, but unfortunately, all the people I asked had either already been to the reserve and seen the lemurs or were only at the market to shop. So, I returned to Denis, and he said in order to avoid the so-called tourism office people, we would pretend to go to the beach instead and he had his friend in a tuk-tuk waiting for us further up the road. It was good that I had put my trust in him because this was exactly the case and all these other young men, so-called representatives of the Tourism Office, had just been distracting me and were a 15 to 20 minute waste of my time. Finally, Denis and I set off in the very nice tuk-tuk with his friend, a careful driver as it turned out, with the promise that we would be back before the last shuttle to the ship at 4 pm. It was now about 1:45 pm.

  

  

The Nahampoana Reserve had been described in our cruise tour book as follows: “As you walk through the reserve, be on the lookout for exotic plants, such as flame trees, pitcher plants as well as the wildlife which calls this region home. If you are lucky, you may spot a ring-tailed lemur, a brown lemur and a number of other reptiles and endemic birds which live in the reserve” Doesn't it sound less hopeful than the previous tour description? We saw no flame trees, no pitcher plants, no reptiles, and no birds but we were only planning to look for lemurs anyway.

  

  

After taking the same paved highway we had taken that morning in the minivan, we turned off and onto a road paved with bricks made from local rock that Denis showed me on the mountain. We passed friendly villagers who waved, calling vazaha out to me as they waved, which means 'foreigner,' one young man, who shouted 'Bonjour, ma cherie' (we all laughed), and a young woman who called to the driver and guide to bring the foreigner over to her as we were driving by. We also stopped for Denis to buy a bunch of small bananas to feed the lemurs. Finally, the tuk-tuk stopped and I saw we were indeed at the 50-acre Nahampoana Reserve. I was sold a ticket at the gate and introduced to a trainee guide from the reserve who would accompany us. Denis, being a local guide himself, was not asked to pay, nor was I asked to pay for him.

  

  

We then entered the reserve along a long path of bamboo that had been bent over to give the effect of a tunnel. Almost immediately we saw a white lemur in a tree. I was never told what kind it was though I suspect it was a Verreaux's Sifika as I saw more of them later. As for the others we saw, the local reserve guide knew approximately where to look, based on where certain animals had been found that morning when the large group from the ship had visited, but he still had to look in a few places, call them, and wait for an answering reply before he could be certain where they were. Knowing I was short of time, he did a very good job, and I was able to photograph freely. I let Denis do the feeding of bananas, as I didn't want to risk touching the animals, and as a result saw and photographed all four types of lemurs mentioned in our cruise brochure for this port, namely and in order: Verreaux's Sifika, the Greater Bamboo Lemur, the Ring-tailed Lemur (with a 3-month-old baby) and the Collared Brown Lemur. They all looked very healthy with beautiful fur. Apparently, according to the local guide, the group from the ship that morning had not been able to see the brown lemurs, so I counted myself lucky in my decision to make this trip on my own, despite the animals being less active in the afternoon compared to the morning. On our way our back through the bamboo tunnel, the ticket seller pointed to the front of the reserve and lo and behold some more Verreaux's Sifikas were gathered there--to see me out perhaps.

  

  

Problems come in threes they say, and after the drowned hat and blown tire, what was to come next, you might wonder! Well, we all know corruption is rife. A policeman stopped our tuk-tuk driver on the way back while we were still in the section that travelled past the village with the brick road. He asked to see the driver's papers. The driver showed them to him on his phone, and there was a short discussion in Malagasy among the three men. I decided not to react as it could just make things worse, and let them argue their way out of whatever the policeman was asking, notwithstanding the fact that I was very aware that any hold-up could mean I'd be late back to the handicraft market and could potentially miss the last shuttle to the ship. Everything was kept calm though, and he eventually must have said we could go. Denis explained to me afterwards that they had told the policeman I was a tourist (which was pretty evident anyway) and that I needed to get to my ship on time. I don't know what excuse the policeman had to ask the driver for money (which was what he was doing), but since I was a tourist and not a local, he said he would let the driver go this time! It's a shame that people have to deal with this probably much more often than we realize. Anyway, all was well, we continued on our way, and I was brought back safe and sound to the handicraft market in good time--about 3:30--and almost immediately stepped into a shuttle back to the ship.

  

  

As a postlude to this day, I was talking to P, my neighbour with whom I'd hired a tuk-tuk in Nosy Be, at dinner and telling her about my trips. She rolled her eyes and told me that she had tried to hire a tuk-tuk with another older lady with mobility issues just to go into town and had been told by the Excursions Manager that he advised against the idea as the place was dangerous. He then sold them an excursion into the town but there really wasn't much to see. What's more, a male passenger P had talked to this evening had had his wallet stolen at the handicrafts place (mind you, he kept it in his back pocket--not the safest of places.) So, I realized not only was I more daring than most, I was very lucky, but then I had chosen my guide carefully after being with him and observing him all morning.

  

  

Well, it's now time to say au revoir to Madagascar or in Malagasy veloma and merci (misaotra) for all the great experiences and photos. I shall also have to switch my brain temporarily out of French and into Portuguese, as our next port in two days' time is Maputo in Mozambique. The only interesting tour to me there has unfortunately been cancelled due to there not being enough interest. Since the other tours on offer don't appeal to me, I may end up setting out to the original tour site on my own. We shall see.

 

Bom dia. We are now in Maputo, formerly called Lourenço Marques until 1976, the capital and largest city of Mozambique, a Portuguese-speaking country in Southern Africa with a population of almost 35 million and located near its southern end on the shores of the Indian Ocean. I was in Mozambique briefly in 1998, but had merely transited through the country from South Africa (or perhaps it was actually from Swaziland) en route to Zimbabwe, I would suppose, from looking at the map of Africa. I don't know why we we chose that route instead of going more northward in South Africa to Zimbabwe. Perhaps that particular area wasn't safe at the time. In any case, I remember crossing the border but not stopping anywhere en route. My memory is of masses of children cheering and waving from their villages on the sides of the dirt roads as we passed by, and yes, I do consider it a country I have already been in since I'm fairly sure I have a stamp in an earlier passport as proof. So, to continue the description of Maputo, it is within 120 kilometres of borders with both Eswatini (formerly Swaziland) and South Africa. Maputo has a population of about 1.2 million distributed over a land area of 347.69 km. Maputo is also a port city with an economy centred on commerce. “In 1502, Portuguese navigators were the first Europeans to discover the Bay of Maputo. In 1544, Portuguese merchant and explorer, Lourenço Marques, reached the bay ... [and] a fort was constructed on the site, but the Portuguese were soon forced to abandon it. In 1721, the Dutch East India company established Delagoa Bay as a coastal trading port and built another fort [but] it was later abandoned due to conflict with the local people. After a few years, the British took control and the country transferred back to the Portuguese in 1781. Colonials established a military fort in 1781, which quickly grew into a town. By 1898, it had become the capital of Portuguese East Africa and was renamed Lourenço Marques. The city expanded due to its proximity to the South African gold and diamond mines. Roads and railroad lines were constructed to transport the minerals to the harbour for export. By 1900 Lourenço Marques was a primary exporter of products [that included] cotton, cashews, sugar, copra, tea, and sisal. After Mozambique achieved independence in 1975, the city became the national capital and was renamed Maputo.”

  

  

  

Therefore, with no tour organized, I met up with P and her friend V, who usually walks with two sticks but for some reason today had decided to venture out on an electric mobility scooter with a battery that would last 8 kilometres. What she hadn't counted on was the fact that since this is a developing country, there were no ramps to get up and down sidewalks. In any case, we set off blindly once the ship's clearance had been given, and, with maps in hand, which another friend of theirs had kindly picked up for us, headed to the sites within walking distance that had been mentioned in the various ship's tour descriptions. We first headed over to the taxi stand on the idea that if things became too tiring, V could hail a taxi, put the mobility scooter, which folds up, into the boot (trunk), and head back to the ship. On exiting the gate of the port area, we were immediately accosted by four or five young men offering us souvenirs but one older, more assertive man came forward and, seeing the mobility scooter, offered to stop traffic for us so V could roll across the street safely. The man had good English and although the two women were asking me how we might politely get rid of him (they were depending on me for my knowledge of Portuguese), we finally realized how helpful he was. For one thing, he ended up lifting V's scooter onto the sidewalks for her and down again as he led us across the town to all the tourist spots, and, frankly, she wouldn't have been able to tour the city without his assistance. He later revealed his name was Marcassa, was 52, and had lived in Germany for a few years (helpful because V's first language was German although she lives in England) and had a daughter living in Germany (whom he had had with a German woman). He was now living in Maputo, didn't seem to have a job, but was certainly making himself available to tourists who spoke English and German, and, although not a trained tour guide, certainly knew what sites in tourists wanted to see and photograph in Maputo. He also told me he had a second wife now in Maputo, two children with her, and they were expecting their third.

  

  

  

Our first stop for photos then was the outside of Jumma Masjid, the oldest mosque in the city, built in 1887. Next, we continued to the city market, but the venders were quite aggressive when it came to photographs, so we soon left, although I did photograph three people who didn't mind or even asked me to photograph them when they saw my big camera. Our self-appointed guide then asked if we wanted to see the 2-story Iron House, built by Gustav Eiffel of Eiffel Tower fame. There was a cost to enter its museum, but in view of the limited mobility of both my companions, we opted not to, and merely photographed its exterior and visited a souvenir shop set up outside. This was located next to the French-Mozambican cultural centre, which we did not stop at, though I would have liked to had I been on my own. We were now on Praça de Independencia, the main square and focal point of the city, with its large statue of the country's first president, Samora Machel, and Neo-Classical City Hall. Also, to the right of the City Hall was the Roman Catholic Cathedral, which we decided to visit and sit down in if only to give P some rest as her (recently operated on) foot was becoming sore from walking. The cathedral had been visited officially by both Jean Paul II, and the current Pope Francis as recently as 2019. Going out the side door of the cathedral, we came to a hotel and conference centre as V's main wish now was to find free wifi so she could check her emails. They did not have it there but recommended a shopping centre to the east of the hotel. Marcassa therefore took it upon himself to lead us to said shopping centre and we were a bit doubtful as we neared it after passing by the Maputo Fort of red brick, which none of us particularly wanted to visit. Arriving at the shopping centre, we found there were a number of restaurants, as our guide had promised, where we could sit, have a drink, and use the free wifi, but after enquiring at a number of restaurants and cafes, we discovered said wifi was offered at only one of these, a Turkish establishment. The staff agreed we could enter and use the wifi and order just a drink and no food as well as pay in USD or Euros, as we had no local currency. The entire bill for the three drinks came to about USD5 so P handed the waitress a five-dollar bill but for some reason the latter said they were unable to accept bills of USD5 and under. This put us in a pickle, because we were only in the country for a day and none of us wanted change in lots of small local coins. A hefty Mozambican man at the next table, who was presumably the owner, offered to pay for the three soft drinks. I would have protested but P took the lead on this as she was the one paying, thanked him for his kind offer, and we all left happy.

  

  

At this point P and V wanted to head back to the ship for lunch, and their plan was to take the ship's shuttle to the craft market in the afternoon. I had other ideas, and, looking at the brochure that had been picked up for us at the port's tourist office, saw photos of women in traditional dress and with powder on their faces, so I asked Marcassa where I might find such women. He said Mafalala. Well, coincidentally, that was where our cancelled tour had been planning to go, described as “a central suburb of Maputo which has a long and interesting history.” I had been hoping to “stroll through the dusty streets, winding alleys, and market of Mafalala ... learn about the local ethno-cultural differences and Mozambican history whilst gaining insight into the local food and medicine and interacting with the local people who live [t]here.” I discussed with this unofficial guide, who said we could walk there in 25 minutes or take a taxi there in three. And, thanks to the wifi in the restaurant, I was able to check whether his statements were true, and locate the area exactly on Google maps. I asked him if he would take me there, and he said he was happy to. When I asked how much he would charge, he said it would be up to me. I figured I had been about to spend a lot of money on the ship's tour, which had been reimbursed to the shipboard account last night, so I could probably afford something not so dear and include the taxi ride as well, given the fact that I wasn't 100% convinced the walk there and back would be doable in the time I figured I would have after we had accompanied P and V back to the ship. Our return to the port included a stop at the Eiffel-designed train station and museum (where incidentally we found toilets, and were told that the museum was free to people under the age of 5 and over the age of 60, though they never asked us for proof of age!). On the way to the train station, we passed some streets with painted murals, seen here. Since the man at the Turkish restaurant had suggested we try the local beer (his establishment did not have a licence for alcohol), I stopped at the train station bar to photograph the local beer to complete my set, although I am sorry I never got to taste it.

  

  

Seeing off P and V at the port entrance gate, I continued walking with Marcassa back to the train station to get a taxi as it had started to rain again. I should perhaps mention that it had rained last night and although it had mostly stopped, the city was full of puddles that we were obliged to walk around in order not to get our feet wet. Also, most of the sidewalks were crumbling and in need of repair and given V's scooter issues, we mostly walked in the road, although we noted that in general the cars were driving slowly and carefully, and would even stop to let us cross the road. Another thing about the cars, the steering wheel was on the right, and they drove on the left. I asked Marcassa if the cars (which he said were all second hand) had been imported from Tanzania or Kenya (which also drive on the left like the British), but he said no, the steering wheels were all on the right because the cars were all second-hand Japanese cars! He didn't comment on the fact that they were driving on the left, but I suppose once again it was a practice left over from British occupation or influence for a short period as mentioned in the history section above.

  

  

  

The taxi Marcassa went up to was the first in line and, I noted, a fairly newish vehicle compared to the one behind it. The driver was young and eager and seemed to understand my Portuguese. After negotiating the price (which I noted later was the official price recommended by the Tourist Office), we headed off rather slowly as traffic was congested. However, after about 15 or 20 minutes, Marcassa informed me we had entered Mafalala. I first noted the colourful art on various walls, but the taxi then headed further into an older part without art, and after I had hinted that perhaps we might stop and the taxi could park, we did so, and Marcassa asked the first youth he saw where we could find ladies with their faces painted--at least that's how he described it. The boy apparently knew and took us walking down a very dodgy narrow alley which, due to the recent rainfall was filled with water (though there were soapsuds among it). I couldn't see what dangers might lurk under the water though. I tried my best to stay on the edges where there were dry bits, but it was not always possible, and I admit my open shoes and bare feet did step into the dodgy water more than once. I managed to get through and arrived in a private courtyard of a home. A young man came out when fetched and said his mother was one of these ladies described by Marcassa, but she wasn't at home right now. It transpired that she was the head of a musical and dancing cultural group for the district. Unfortunately also, the other ladies in the group were not around today, travelling elsewhere. Although I could tell the young man was trying to convince his mother on the phone to come home and put on her face paint for us so I could take photos, I told them that I certainly wasn't bothered, that he should not insist, and I had already accepted the fact that it was not possible. Meanwhile, as he prolonged his phone conversation with his mother, a number of curious little girls appeared, popping their heads outside the home. Lucky for me, they were quite amenable to being photographed when asked. I was also intrigued by the writing on their inner courtyard wall that says 'stop fofoca' which, after looking it up later, apparently means 'stop gossiping!'

  

  

  

After leaving the private courtyard and walking back along the dodgy, wet alley, we wandered a bit around the streets, which looked more ghetto-like with their wooden and rusty corrugated iron (or zinc?) fences, though some of the dwellings had large yards. Then seeing much of a sameness and few people, I asked Marcassa if we could drive back to the beginning of the district where we had come in, as I now wanted to photograph some of the murals I had seen. We returned then to the taxi and continued on our way in it, stopping at places where there was art on the walls or painted buildings. Sometimes Marcassa got out first when this art was on buildings like taverns, in order to ask permission of these building owners. None of them denied me the opportunity, I must add. The only place where there was slight aggression was at the beautifully decorated central football field which had paintings of the famous footballer Eusébio as well as other famous former Mafalala residents. At seeing some slight aggression (probably caused by beer drinkers), I stated to Marcassa and the driver that this was a public area and any public art displayed should be available for the public to photograph. They agreed, but we got back into the taxi and carried on nonetheless, not wanting to antagonize any further.

  

  

  

As Marcassa is not an official tour guide, he was of course unable to tell me about the history of this area, so I looked it up later on via Google: Mafalala is a very poor area in Maputo similar to a favella in Rio or a township. It is one of the oldest neighbourhoods in Maputo. Located in the central west of Maputo, the water table is very high here making house construction difficult. The inhabitants of this neighbourhood ended up being pushed here by the colonists, who occupied cooler and higher places. It is also the home of artists. One of the first photos here shows the tufo dance, traditionally performed by women. The neighbourhood has a Tufo da Mafalala Association to preserve this cultural heritage (I suspect then that the mother mentioned above was the head of said association.) The writer, José Craveirinha, spent his youth in Mafalala. You will see his name written on the walls around the football pitch, the original of which is where great football players like Eusébio emerged in the 1960s. Today's field, seen here, is home to one of the most famous football matches in the capital. The market of Mafalala (which we did not enter) was founded in 1977. In 2003, the municipality of Maputo did a remarkable job in ridding the area of stagnant water, the source of diseases such as cholera, malaria, and diarrhoea. The installation of drainage ditches here has helped immensely, but there are still a few stagnant pools when there is intense rain. Residents are taught to preserve the drainage ditches by not throwing garbage into them. However, as in other peripheral neighbourhoods, the lack of lighting in these alleyways is conducive to criminal activity, not only at night, but also during the day.

  

  

  

Voilà. A brief visit but a very photogenic area and I'm glad I made the effort to go just as I had wanted to. I learned from the map that there are more areas in Maputo with wall art to photograph, one of the areas being near the airport, but alas, that shall have to wait for another visit. Obrigada, Moçambique, e adeus. Regarding the ultimate photo for Maputo below, as I arrived back from our tour and after paying Marcassa, who accompanied me all the way back to the pier, I saw a huge, long line-up of well-dressed locals. I went into the port terminal building, where there were souvenirs for sale and found a Mozambican bracelet to match the others I had from other countries, a crude magnet, and a lovely wooden carving. On my walk back to the ship, I saw this same long line of locals filing up a gangway into a large ship, and another line coming out again. Intrigued, I talked to the security guard, a young man from Britain, who was actually crewing on the ship, and learned that the ship was a floating book fair with a Christian theme. Logos Hope visits different ports in various countries for about a month at a time and opens it up for local people to come in take a book or two (all of which are donated) and offers Christian charity and help on land where needed. According to their website, since 1970, when the original ship was purchased, the two GBA Ships, “have visited over 480 ... ports in more than 150 countries and territories and [have] welcomed over 49 million visitors on board. [The] goal is to share knowledge, help, and hope ... as well as promote literacy and education, cross-cultural co-operation, and social awareness... Ship teams go into surrounding areas to provide aid and community care, partnering with local community groups to bring hope to people, whatever their circumstance, culture or background.”

  

  

  

Hello from beautiful South Africa, where English is the main vernacular once again, though of course there are a multitude of languages spoken here, including some intriguing click languages. Our first of six stops in this country of a population of nearly 61 million--I had last visited South Africa in 1998, though it was my first time I believe in this particular area of it--is Richard's Bay, a city and harbour town in KwaZulu-Natal province, located on a lagoon of the Mhlatuze River, the deepest natural harbour on the African continent and in the Southern hemisphere. Richard's Bay, which was originally a fishing village, but became a harbour during the Anglo-Boer War of 1879, is close to World Heritage Sites and game parks, including Hluhluwe-Imfolozi, the oldest game reserve in Africa covering around 96,000 hectares.

  

  

  

“The Zulus are the largest [ethnic group] and nation in South Africa with an estimated 12 million people, who mainly reside in ... KwaZulu-Natal province... They are known for their strong fighting spirit. Shaka Zulu, who was King of the Zulus from 1816 to 1828, was one of this [ethnic group]'s most renowned warriors and influential monarchs, thanks to his wide-reaching reforms, which built their military into a formidable force. During the 17th and 18th centuries, many of the most powerful Zulu chiefs agreed to treaties, which saw the British take control of Zulu villages. Eventually, the Zulus decided they no longer wanted to remain under British rule, and in 1879, war erupted as they fought to take back their land. Although they succeeded at first, they were eventually conquered by the British, who exiled the Zulu Kings and divided up the kingdom. Today, the Zulus continue to try and reclaim the lands of their ancient kingdom.”

  

  

 

My tour today was to iSimangaliso Wetland Park, Mission Rocks, and Cape Vidal, and my memory today will undoubtedly be of the rain, showers, and more showers, and the fact that my main camera stopped functioning because it clearly got wet. I may also remember our driver, who asked us to call him William, though he actually has a long, unpronounceable (to us) Zulu name and speaks not only English and Zulu but also Setswana, Xhosa and about three more local African languages fluently. I sat in the front seat beside him while the other nine people in our 4x4 sat on covered benches on risers, giving everyone the possibility to see (and photograph, I imagine). He taught me the three different click sounds in Zulu. Before reaching the park, however, and after experiencing short, painless, face-to-face immigration on the ship, we all travelled in a large bus passing what seemed like billions of Eucalyptus trees for one and a half hours to iSimangaliso. Our guide in the bus, Jordan, was a third-generation South African Indian, a grandchild of an indentured labourer for the sugar cane fields. Under British rule, the Zulus refused to work in the cane fields under the British because in their opinion all the land belonged to the Zulus. Since the British at that point had an empire, they brought in indentured labourers from India--two boatloads of 342 Indians each. The Indians in South Africa now number over one million with the highest concentration of them living in KwaZulu-Natal province. Our guide, not therefore being Zulu, got some of the facts about the Zulu wrong, I would learn the next day. According to him, upon marriage, a Zulu bride's value, measured in cows, could vary according to beauty, age, education, and job, so that in his estimate, a woman with a university education and a job like I have, could fetch about 150 to 200 cows, although, of course, I clearly don't have the required youth or all that youth entails. This fact was later refuted by our guide in Durban, a Zulu. Jordan also talked about the hippo, as this park contains many, as being the most dangerous animal in Africa, known for killing many more humans than any of the wild cats such as lions, leopards, or cheetahs, etc. Although hippos stay in the water during the daytime because their skin doesn't like the heat, they come out of the water at night when it is cooler and walk through the streets, so locals need to be aware of them in case they encounter one (or, indeed, a bloat of them) during the evening or night time hours.

  

  

  

Most of our nine-hour tour was spent in the 4x4s looking for elusive animal and bird species in the (mostly) rain. It's true, we did find African cormorants, an African hawk, and a duo of African jacanas, as well as waterbucks, hippos, white rhinos in the distance, kudus, warthogs, cape buffalo, a samango monkey, vervet monkeys, and had a couple of glimpses of crocodiles, and one wildebeest, as well as saw traces of elephant (dung) and hyena (footprints) and, supposedly, a jackal running away, for the most part, the rain hampered viewing considerably, but then we were in the wetlands! We had a brief stop for a mug of coffee and a biscuit in the parking lot above the very rough sea at Mission Rocks, during which the rain stopped for us, surprisingly, and then a longer stop at Cape Vidal among showers and vervet monkeys, to view the ocean, but it was not a day for swimming or snorkeling as had been suggested in our itinerary. Lunch (a braai, aka the local BBQ) was cooked on site by the three forest rangers but, unfortunately, the only meat on offer was beef, so those of us who do not eat beef had to make do with potato salad, green salad heavily doused in salad cream, and white hot dog buns (not the most nutritious meal, considering) and eaten sitting on a log as there was no covered area. Luckily, I had my umbrella with me to keep off most of the water. So, what did I do about my camera, you ask? Prepared for such an untoward event, I had two back-up cameras in my iPhone and--when that battery was flat--my waterproof camera, with which, considering the circumstances, I was able to get some OK shots, despite their inability to zoom to the extent of my main camera. Ever the optimist, I gave my main camera time to dry out and by the next day, thank goodness, it was functioning again. I did later check out the cameras the ship was offering to sell me, but they were small and not very useful for my purposes.

  

  

  

After lunch, the skies cleared, and there were even a few spots of warmish sunshine as we travelled through picturesque savannah lands, though wildlife was sparse here. Arriving back at our bus, there were no curios or souvenirs to buy and by the time we arrived back at the port among the coal dust, which was on our shoes and got transferred onto the ship, the vendors there had also packed up their wares--which we had seen being set up as we were leaving on our tour--and gone home. We will be in South Africa for about a week, nevertheless, so there are certain to be other opportunities to shop for local souvenirs.

  

  

  

Situated on the east coast of South Africa, Durban, the largest city in KwaZulu-Natal province and the chief seaport of South Africa, began as a settlement of traders in the 19th century. Immigrants from India first began arriving in the Port of Natal (now Durban) in 1860. There were two waves of Indian immigration, “the first being indentured labour brought by the British to work in the sugar cane fields, and the second, in the form of paying passengers who were mostly Gujarati Muslim and Hindu businessmen. Indentured labour contracted a worker to their employer for around five years in return for wages and travel costs. In 1917, the majority of labourers stayed and became landowners on Durban's east coast. By 1936, there were over 200,000 Indians in South Africa, half of whom were born there. Today, Indians make up around 2.5% of South Africa's population and have contributed not only to the diversity of the country but also to its economy and culture.

  

  

  

  

I joined a (dry and not too hot) game drive today at Tala Game Reserve, a private reserve spanning 3,000 hectares in the KwaZulu-Natal Hills. Our tour guide on the bus was Mpume, a Zulu woman with a daughter and a stepdaughter. She told us that according to Zulu traditions, a Zulu woman had to be a virgin to marry, and the bride price was 11 cows. However, despite being close to the top of her class, she became pregnant while at high school and, as a result, lost her chance to study in Durban. After the birth of her daughter, she went to her father and told him she had learned her lesson, and wanted to continue her studies, having decided to major in electrical engineering. His reply was that choosing to become a mother had lost her the privilege of studying in Durban. She would need to stay closer to home to look after her daughter and study at the local college instead. Although she started in electrical engineering, she changed her mind as she realized it was much more profitable to work in the tourism industry. She is now married to her daughter's father and things seem to be going well for her, thanks in part to what she describes as a very enlightened father, now aged 79, who has two wives. He shares his time between them as they live in two different villages, spending a week with one and then a week with the other. He had only sons with his other wife, whom Mpume describes as her second mother, while with Mpume's mother he had only girls after quite a few miscarriages and still births. Mpume now not only works as a tour guide for other agencies but also guides visitors to her own village to teach them about Zulu life. What's more, she teaches the children in her village about sexual health and encourages them to finish school so that they can live fulfilled lives and wait before having children.

  

  

  

  

She also talked about the rondavels that many Zulus have in their yards in addition to the houses they live in. These rondavels are where they perform ancestor worship. She mentioned that when someone dies, a member of their family will go to the place where the person died, capture their spirit, and bring it back to their village so it can help the living. She also taught us a few words in isiZulu, such as Ngiyabonga, which means 'thank you' and demonstrated two of the click sounds used in the Zulu language. She talked about more aspects of Zulu life, but these were the particular things I remembered.

  

  

  

  

Arriving at the reserve, and after using the toilets, we piled into three large 4x4s which contained 25 seats each not tiered this time. Arriving on the one designated for bird watchers, I managed to get a seat in the front row of the seats behind the driver where if I stood up I had good views, though I didn't like to stand up too often as I was aware this blocked others. Another bird watcher with two large cameras both with 500mm lenses was seated beside me on the outside but I gathered that some of the others were not as bird photography crazy and were just in the truck because their twitcher spouses were. One woman behind me, with an iPhone kept saying she wasn't all that bothered about taking any photographs of the wildlife we saw when encouraged. Although we didn't see any hippos today, we had close encounters with white rhinos, including a crash of them with cattle egrets, zebras, and giraffes, as well as impalas, kudus, and, farther away, wildebeest, ostriches, Egyptian geese, lapwings, and a few small birds, including some unidentified ones, weavers busy with their nests, and a red bishop.

  

  

  

  

At the end of what was for me too short a game drive--but the driver was rushing because another group had arrived for the afternoon game drive--we were offered tea, coffee or guava juice, and invited to visit an on-site curio shop, where I found a South African bracelet to add to my collection.

  

  

  

  

We have completed our second month and have one more to go, so I will end this part of my travelogue here and will make a new page for PART THREE: From East London, South Africa to Southampton, U.K.

NOTE: The quotations herein are for the most part from the Fred Olsen cruise excursions brochure. Other smaller quotes come from Wikipedia.