THE KIDS OF ILE STE MARIE

While riding a rented motorbike around the rocky roads of Ile St. Marie, a hilly strip of land 30 miles off Madagascar's east coast, we came across a sign for "Orphelinat Zazakely." 

We weren't sure what the words meant, but the sign was colorfully painted and featured what looked like happy kids and a tiny school house. Considering we didn't have a destination (or a map), and the Orphelinat was just 6 km away, we figured we'd go take a look.  


Diversions like these don't always pay off for us, to say the least. But this one certainly did. 

After six kilometers of some of the roughest roads we've ridden on the trip, we spotted another sign that looked like the one from half an hour before. We pulled to a stop and heard the unmistakable sound of children playing. 

Seconds later, a Malagasy woman smiled and waved us up the dirt track. After determining that we weren't lost or in need of directions, the woman explained in her limited English that the Orphelinat was in fact the island's only orphanage, established 10 years ago by a French woman to house and educate local children. As she talked, she gave us a brief tour of the facility, introducing us to gaggles of giggling children along the way. Before we could finish the tour a group of six girls dragged us into an intense game of jump rope. Luckily, we were able to overcome our clueless-ness with height, and we would've won but Kip tripped trying to imitate a double-rope jump one of the six-yr-olds pulled on us. 

Although we like to think the kids had a good time playing with us, our shiny red motorcycle helmets stole the show. The kids passed them both around so everyone got a turn to wear one.

We were also fortunate to meet a family from Belgium, living at the orphanage and volunteering with the kids for several weeks (the organization welcome long- and short-term volunteers). Thankfully, the Belgians spoke English and gave us some background on where the children came from. Although the organization is an orphanage, not all of the children are orphans. Many are without mothers, we were told, and their fathers were unable to care for the children, so they were brought to the orphanage. We also learned the children at Zazakely feel a very strong sense of family and community, with many of the older children who were raised in the orphanage returning frequently to visit their Zazakely brothers and sisters. 

Photo #1 from the future
Ansel Adams.

We had such a fun time playing with the kids, we went back the next day for more. Our motorbike helmets were already old news, but one precocious kid was adamant on using the camera. Kip was only too happy to show him how the camera worked, and after a brief photography lesson, off he went filling up a memory card with photos of everything in the area. And we mean everything.  

From rocks, to rooftops, to lots of photos of the ground, he covered it all. As his benevolent instructor, Kip thought he did a great job, considering he'd never used a camera.

Another photo from the budding photographer. Interesting composition.

Who is this bearded volunteer in the bead necklaces (designed and sold by village women to help fund the orphanage)?

Liz's favorite, little Francia.

For more information, or to support this organization, information is on their website (in French): http://www.zazakely.org/parrainage.html

PHOTOS: ANNAPURNA SANCTUARY

Words don't do justice to the stunning beauty and random hilarity delivered by a hike through the Annapurna Sanctuary. For your viewing enjoyment, below are a few photos from the trek:

Some sheep Kip befriended on the trail.

View of the Annapurna peaks from Annapurna Base Camp at 13,549 feet. The strange lines of clouds high above the peaks are caused by high winds, we're told.

Liz with her soul sisters Nada and Sim at Annapurna Base Camp.

Some very camera shy Nepalese girls. They had a great time telling Kip all the English words they knew.

No chicken, pork, or buffalo meat beyond this point of the trail. Not a high point for us non-vegetarians.

Safety first? Not in this hot water shower, powered by a propane bottle and clear plastic tube that remain in the bathroom as you shower. Shockingly, we decided to pass on the gas.

Looking forward to buying some holes at this "hole sale" provision shop.

Considering there are only four lodges in Chhomrong, this sign seems a bit dated.

A herd of goats blocks the road on our ride back to Pokhara. Their horns are painted blue to identify them to their owners. On the dashboard of our car spins a solar-powered prayer wheel. 

STARES, SMILES, AND BYE BYE BURMA

Stares and smiles greet us at a train station in rural Myanmar. 

As a foreigner traveling in Myanmar, you tend to get a lot of stares, particularly in the more rural areas where few tourists visit. It's an odd feeling at first, when a farmer stops his oxen team to wave or a group of kids halts a pick-up soccer game to point at the strangers strolling past. 

Perhaps it's somewhat akin to what it feels like to be a celebrity, but without the money, agents, or paparazzi.  

Eventually, you get used to it, even looking forward to it after a long day sitting on a bus or train. You soon learn that, with a quick wave and a smile, the uncomfortable stares morph into some of the warmest faces and most sincere greetings on the planet.

It's what we'll miss the most about Burma--the people.

More smiles from the train.

We'll remember Myanmar's citizens much more fondly than we will the country's two largest cities, Mandalay and Yangon (Rangoon), both of which, thanks to traffic, smog, dust, trash, noise, and a lack of much to see or do, we weren't huge fans of. 

We also won't get nostalgic for the buses, the over-priced hotels, the government limits on where visitors can go, or especially the country's cuisine, which is infamously underwhelming, despite being surrounded by the culinary-capitals of Thailand, China, and India. For example, Myanmar's most widely-used food product is a putrid-smelling paste called "ngapi" made from fermented fish or shrimp.

Despite the aforementioned drawbacks, Myanmar is not a bad place to visit--especially because of the people met along the way, like the U Paw Sans in Inle Lake and the giggling children everywhere we went--they made the trip complete. 

So here's hoping, with the continuing increase in tourism and growing foreign investment (rumors abound of the country's first McDonalds and Starbucks opening soon...), the lives of those in Myanmar improve dramatically while their openness and friendliness remain as they are today.

As a farewell to Myanmar, below are a few parting shots as we head to Nepal...

MORE ON THE TRAIN TRIP TO NAY PYI TAW

The 12-hour ride from Bagan to the capital, while not exactly comfortable, was as scenic a ride as we had in Myanmar. 

While one railway car does not a train make, it was still a fun ride, thanks to the kids...and the stowaway below.

A lady delivers grass to cows across the tracks.

A cute, stowaway joined us on the trip.

NAY PYI TAW--MYANMAR'S STRANGE CAPITAL

Myanmar's government relocated the country's capital seven years ago from Yangon (Rangoon) to a rural rice-paddy five hours north. After spending some $4 billion, a new city was born. 

Liz lies down on the deserted 20-lane highway in front of Myanmar's multi-million dollar capitol.

Despite the money, the massive highways and some gargantuan government buildings, the place remains pretty much deserted. A person could sleep safely in the middle of the 20-lane road in front of the capitol building. 

Embassies, NGO's and international workers have refused to leave Yangon, while the government has attempted unsuccessfully to force its own workers to relocate full time. They even built housing compounds for staff, complete with color-coded roofs, corresponding with the department in which you work. We can't imagine that would go over well back home--it would be hard to live next door to your co-workers and/or boss. But then, having a white elephant as a neighbor might help.

The government imported a sacred white elephant to live in the city. Liz loved the blond hairdo. 

It has been an impressive 28 days (the maximum stay allowed for foreigners) but we are excited to move on towards our next destination.  That said, we will certainly miss the Burmese hospitality, which Kip took full advantage of our last day in the country. 

A hotel worker insisted on giving Kip some shade.

PHOTO FRIDAY: TRAIN TRAVEL WITH KIDS

Train travel in Burma is said to be an adventure. And it is. 

We spent 12-hours rocking along on the rails of what was supposed to be a six-hour trip between Bagan and the new and strange capital of Nay-Pyi-Taw. The train was actually a single car/engine combo--an engine built into one passenger coach car with room for around 40 (or 80, if you're not counting closely) on old wooden bench seats.  

The best part was the scenery and the breeze from the open windows, and of course, the other passengers, who included the two kids above. They couldn't stop laughing and smiling the entire ride. So glad they were contagious, or it would have been one looooong, uncomfortable train trip.