It has been a long time since I wrote on the blog but honestly it's been a long time since I've been to a country that felt "new". While I have been to two new countries this month (El Salvador and Pakistan), neither felt all that different from other neighboring countries that I have been to.So the first part of this trip was the experience of Flying While Injured. I had sprained my ankle two days before my flight so was still on crutches. I had called ahead to all the airlines to see if I could get a medical upgrade (the answer on both airlines was no) and to let them know I’d be needing help at the airport (that also seemed to be lost). There was no way I could navigate airports on crutches and also carry luggage so I asked for wheelchairs. This seemed to work well – got to the front of most lines. But then the guy forgot to pick me up from the KQ lounge in Nairobi, and by the time I made a request and they came for me I almost missed the flight. When I got to the gate they said I was too late and then thought better of it. Some people had taken my seat, which I had specifically requested to be next to an empty seat so I could prop my leg up so some nice American missionary boy gave me his seat/row. The Antananarivo (Tana) airport layover was similar and on this flight some French guy was very annoyed at me for wanting my own row (although he ended up with his own row too). And although the wheelchair and help that that entailed was nice, the crazy amount of stairs – some of them too steep and narrow to be done with crutches makes me deeply empathize with people who are severely injured (which I’m really not) or disabled in Africa! The other oddity was that most of the guys who helped with luggage or pushed the wheelchair requested tips, which is annoying because for the most part they were airport or airline personnel. The guys in Tana didn’t speak English but were able to say “money”. I pretended I didn’t understand so they found a group of white French tourists and had them translate – seriously!! I can’t believe the French guys did it! They claimed they had been with me for an hour and a half (which wasn’t true, they left and came back) but they are airport employees who presumably would have been paid whether they were helping me or not, right?
Anyways, I get to Nosy Be, the largest island off of Madagascar (which is the largest island off of Africa). The flight crossed the island and then does a slightly frightening 360 to hit the very small landing strip. But the views of the island as we went past were stunning, very hilly, tree covered terrain in the middle and then stunning water and shorelines. The airport pick up people were great, although the other two passengers – who had been sitting in front of me on the plane making out – looked less than thrilled when they saw they’d be sharing a ride with the crippled lady. The ride was from the west side of the island to the east – about 45 minutes - was as pretty as the view from the plane. One of my first thoughts as we turned a corner from lush jungle landscape and caught a glimpse of the ocean was, I know I have a crazy wonderful life but I want to stop here and get off. I’m sure the island has poverty and problems but for that moment it just seemed serene and like a place I could stay at for a while (say the next decade or so).
I had chosen the place I was staying, Vanila Hotel, at as it was next to the dive center and I had lined up a day of diving the next day. The hotel seems very nice… a little too expansive of grounds for someone who has to hobble around, but I’m sure it’s good for me… and I do like that the hotel services guide advises against pedophilia, right between the check out time and the request to conserve water by reusing towels. Anyway, sadly, the next day my body was telling me that diving was not a good idea. I hobbled down the beach to talk to them and ultimately decided not to go. It was disappointing but I would be so mad at myself if I made the recovery worse. So I spent the day laying by the pool, exercising my ankle in the pool and eventually going to the spa where I thought a Jacuzzi would do my ankle good (I’m pretty sure it had no effect) but ended up with a very awkward soak in that I somehow couldn’t keep my body weighted down so I kept floating to the top, followed by a Gommage which is something I’ve never come across before but you lay on a table and the row of shower heads spray hot water over you while a lady (wearing what can only be described as a 1920s bathing costume) scrubs you with salts and a fiber glove… it was actually pretty wonderful although when she went to scrub my underarms I realized I was feeling horribly ticklish and then realizing how silly this was I broke into uncontrollable giggling which then caused her to giggle so 
I spent like 10 minutes of the procedure laughing so hard I was crying with someone who I could not speak to (her no English, me no French), followed by a massage that reminded me of the Indian oil massages I used to get that just bored me. I want deep tissue massage… not just general rubbing.
Anyways the last morning there was wonderful and sunny and just what a beach day should be:)
