Madagastro: The Breakfast Edition

The things we eat....

For those looking for the more mundane, here is a sampling of the food we eat here.  It is exciting for us that we're able to make such "fancy" dishes, which should give you an idea of how terribly not fancy the food usually is...  So here we are, trying to recreate the things we crave and take advantage of our very nice kitchen.  We'll just give you our favorites.  Or the ones we've remembered to take pictures of.

                                               

*Mexican Brunch*

This is a favorite, a combination of two amazing things.  It is a weekend highlight.  Layered from the bottom up: tortilla, refried beans, French fries, cheese, over-easy egg, lettuce, tomato, sakay be, green onion, hot sauce.  So good.  Special thanks to Robin Cullen and my parents who have all sent us various Mexican necessities from cheese to seasonings to salsa!  Robin's giant box of Mexican was perhaps the best surprise and present I have ever received.  Seriously.

*Pancakes with nutella and bananas*

Again, thank you thank you thank you to Robin who sent us a huge tub of nutella.  We also use it to top some donuts we buy on the street and heat up in the oven while the coffee is brewing, though we don't actually make anything involved in that breakfast so you won't see any pictures.  It is surprisingly cold in Fianarantsoa right now, so these warm and cozy breakfasts make it much easier to wake up in the morning....  To be clear, cold means 50s to 70s, but it makes a big difference when buildings don't have any form of heating.  The cold gets in you and stays in you.  Thank goodness our house has hot water....

We'll try to post more random meals soon (the dinner version is harder to capture on camera because the lighting capabilities are worse at night...).  We'll also try to show you some pictures of our home so you can see a bit more of our life here!

Also I just realized that both meals we've posted have relied on Robin's generosity...  We'll include meals in the next post that use strictly local ingredients....

Madagastro: Sakay!

Before we go any further, I think it's important for you to understand the spices and such that we have available. We can find in the fancy store things like basil—the usual. But one very important part of food for us is hot peppers.

In Madagascar, they have a little something called sakay (emphasis on the second half of the word). I struggle to translate it into English, because it basically means a hot pepper, but it's very different from what we have. You can use the word either to describe actual peppers, or you can use it to describe a sort of hot sauce that is made with the peppers and is available anywhere you get food. Anywhere. It's at every table along with the salt.

Now the sauce itself is NOTHING like our stuff in America. A little bit goes a VERY long way. Every American will make the mistake here of piling a bunch on as if it were salsa or some kind of American hot sauce. And if you accidentally took a bite before testing—well, I'm not sure what would happen, but I really wouldn't want to be you.

It's delicious, to be clear. It's usually mashed up peppers and ginger. So so good. And definitely gives your food zip. In Mahabo, if ever I dipped some kind of street food I bought in it, all the kids would huddle around with wide eyes and see if I died after eating it. Not everyone can handle sakay. I think that's why it was created. Normally, Malagasy food isn't really seasoned. I'm not joking. They use salt. Some use pepper, but most don't. I mean, it's true that they put meat in everything, so I guess you could say that's there favorite flavoring. In any case, the point is you either eat unseasoned food or you eat it super spicey.

Okay so when I write I'll talk about the sakay and I want you to know what I'm talking about, so here is a lovely picture of the three main kinds of sakay that we use. The big green kind is called sakay-be, or big sakay. Makes sense. It is the mildest of the sakay, and I can usually handle this sliced up in small pieces in a salad or something—gives it kick but not too much as long as you don't add too much. It's nice to use when you don't just want to add spice, but you want to add vegetables or substance as well. It's also good when you can't dilute the sakay. In that salad, you couldn't really use a hotter spice because the hot wouldn't be spread throughout a sauce or dish—you'd be eating an actual piece of it. So yeah there you go.

The small sakay are the typical ones—the only kind I actually had in Mahabo. They are very spicey and usually I'll only throw like four or five into an entire dish. Depends on how much the food in the dish absorbs or dilutes the spice. The important thing to note with these guys is that they add kick but not really flavor. When you taste something with them, you feel the heat but don't necessarily notice a flavor. This is probably why ginger is also used when making the sakay sauce—it definitely adds flavor.

The orange medium one I'm not really sure of the name. Sometimes in our house Paul and I call it the orange sakay. We're very clever. Basically, these have as much kick as the little guys, but they're obviously bigger. I'll often put one—maybe two—into a sauce. Depends on whether or not I'm adding the other kinds of sakay. The great thing about these are that they are very flavorful. I love it. They're great for something like beans or a sauce. If you are shooting for a specific flavor, however, they might not be what you want to go with since they could overwhelm the dish.

So there you go—our peppers. Hopefully this makes things a bit more clear when I describe what we cook up!

Madagastro

Welcome a pilot of a potential new series in this blog: Madagastro. It was largely Paul's idea, so really you should just give him credit.

One of the things we love about our beautiful home (remind me—I'll post pictures of the place some time) is the kitchen. It's huge and well lit. We have an oven and a fridge. While living in Mahabo, my meals were largely based on what I could make and eat before the food spoiled (remember it was super hot there). It's true that I expanded my options when I got my solar oven—pizza, hummus, baba ganush, breads, etc. But still—without a fridge, you buy food from the market for that day only, and you must finish everything you eat before ants decide to help out. The ants hit before the food turns nasty.

Having a fridge allows us to invest in things like condiments. It allows us to buy kilos of food on the weekend, and use it all week. (In Mahabo I bought a small pile of each ingredient I needed.) There are also WAY more food options here in Fianar—both in the market because we're in a more productive region food-wise, and also in the fancy food department because we have a couple shops with a bunch of imported things from the Western world.

The point is, we experiment way more with food, for various reasons. Including the fact that it's easier to cook for two than one, and it's easier to be motivated to make fancy food when you know that someone else will enjoy it.

So... we decided to share our food adventures. Now, it may turn out that you think it is ridiculous. Perhaps the food looks and tastes better to us because we have lived without it since October. But then again, maybe you will like it—either because it makes you appreciate what you have more, or because it gives you ideas for your own cooking that desperation has not yet driven you to discover. We'll give it a go and decide later whether or not there will be a sequel...

I'm going to break this into chunks to make it easier for you. Maybe it's just me but when I see unending text on a blog everything gets fuzzy and I get lazy and decide not to read it. So I'll try to make sure that doesn't happen to you....

a taste of english

As English becomes more and more widespread, Madagascar has joined the parade. Back in the day, Madagascar's president declared three official languages for the island: Malagasy, French, and English. He was determined to turn his people trilingual, and in this quest he demanded buckets of English teachers from the Peace Corps. Working in the highlands it seems as if the journey has been pretty successful. But then of course, everything is more advanced in the highlands. The roads, the teachers, the health structures—it's all better on the highlands. So yes there are teachers here that speak English fluently, and I can imagine surviving here as a tourist speaking only English. But of course it is still concerning for my old village and the surrounding area. They don't even have an English teacher, much less one that is fluent. And so in a way, English has become yet another measurement of disparity between the highlands and the coasts.

But I digress...

I have brought up this subject merely as a consumer. You see, some of the products we buy are covered in the English language. One possible reason is that the island now has import/export relationships with English-speaking nations. But the more probable reason in my opinion (and I think you'll agree) is that producers are translating their products into English in an attempt to gain more business. Madagascar and others are opening up to the English-speaking world. And I love it.

To be clear, finding a product in English does not cure any feelings of homesickness. But it does provide us with a little comedy.

So I thought I'd share some examples. The first (also the first that was humorous enough for us to take note) is not a product, but a hotel. It's called Motel Violette, is located in Ambositra, and the rumor among Americans is that it has the best pizza. We accidentally stayed there when our trip home to Fianar was unexpectedly delayed. And then we accidentally sampled their famous pizza without realizing yet that it was famous—we were simply looking for some kind of vegetarian option for Paul. My opinion: not the best pizza in Madagascar. But it is one of the few places with pizza that has a thicker crust, American-style. I guess if that's what you miss, you'll love this stuff. But I make homemade pizza all the time, and my crust ends up the same, so I just don't think it's a big deal. Though perhaps I'm biased.

Okay. So without further ado, the Motel Violette advertisement brochure, word for word (and in some cases, letter for letter—when in doubt, trust that it is not a typo):

Motel Violette: Bungalows / Chambres / Restaurant / Pizzeria

Here, furnitures and boards are in good agreement with an atmospheres sweet and lights where shadows and lights paly a wonderful symphony

For those whom discovery of sites and walking under the open air have exhausted, they can now discover cultural wealth of the region:

--Local working classes (cabinet work, unlaid work, rabans with colours subjects of basket-works)

--Hairdressign and the “lamba arindrano” (the tress has a particular meaning in betsileo tradition)

--The savika (violent sport and dangerous but very popular in the region of Ambositra)

--The Zafindraony canticles

--The Betsileo rija

--The volam-be tohaka.

When you have passed the day for strollin, to rumbling many shops to inquire little souvenirs and after making a halt at the terrace, you will find again with pleasure the calm and the quietness of your hotel, the soft confort and the freshness of your room or in pleasantly, arranged bungalows, bathroom with hot water, the color television and the constant attentions of a dynamic and young servants ready to comply with your least wishes.

To the table of its restaurant, Motel violette will show you the delight of its delicate cooking. The french, malagasy and chinese gastronomy keep close harmoniously on proposed cards. You can take “La saucisse Violeta” the tradesman of our chef. The familial environment and the quality of its cooking have largely contributed to the fame of Motel Violette.

Excellent. I am sure you all now want to visit Madagascar, if for no other reason than to rumble shops in Ambositra.

Our next favorite is a body gel that came with a loofah. I think it was made in China. The brand is ROUSHUN and I'll just dive in.

Front:

Naturals

BODY WASH

Skin Care

EXPERT

SPA FRAGRANCE Ocean Energy

--Cool Moisture--

Gentle for all skin types

Back:

ROUSHUN Naturals BODY WASH

OCEAN ENERGY

*Contains various of vitamins and minerals from ocean. Smoothens and whitens your skin and also improves the dry and rough skin. Prevent the dim skin and makes the skin gentle and tender. It brings youa luxurious feeling of bathing and gives birth to your silken skin. Just enjoy the brand new feelings it brings to you.

DIRECTION

Wet your body and smear some on the whole body, and then make it with rich foams with your hand or bathing cotton. Rinse after a while.

The most chill instructions ever. I assume the bathing cotton is the loofah.

Along similar lines, we'll go ahead and finish your English lesson with shampoo.

Front:

*PLANTS FRUIT ACID*

Eggs

Moisturizing Shampoo Nutrition

Nourish & Repair

DOUBLE PROTECTION

SUPER PLIANCY & WIPE OFF

Plant extracts

NEW

Back:

Habetong

Moisturizing Shampoo Nutrition

Rich eggs contain nutrients, moisture factor, combined with nutritional supplements, deep moisturizing hair, promote hair on the absorption of nutrients, to help re-hair, hair loss protein supplement!

DOUBLE PROTECTION

SUPER PLIANCY & WIPE OFF

Usage: Wet hair, take the appropriate product on the hair, slightly to produce a rich foam, then wash with water, if necessary, Better results can be repeated. Note: if it gets, flush with fresh water.

Is anyone else really worried about that last sentence? It's as if we're being given these really important instructions or a warning, only the key part of the sentence is missing.

In any case, I hope you enjoyed.

And don't worry—I listen to public radio way more than I read shampoo. So hopefully my English skills will still be intact upon my return. Of course only time will tell...

World Malaria Day

As some of you may know, today is World Malaria Day. I was trying to decide how exactly to mark the occasion through my blog. There's a lot of pressure when your job is all about malaria... So much could be said, but where to start?

I considered writing a bit about malaria in general. Talking about how it's both preventable and treatable, yet we still haven't beat it. About how pregnant women and children under five are the most at risk. About how historically we keep developing new treatments, and the parasite keeps evolving and developing resistance. But then I decided that none of this can be summed up in a blog post—and others have already said it so much better. In fact, if you are interested, I highly recommend Sonia Shah's The Fever: How Malaria Has Ruled Humankind for 500,000 Years. http://soniashah.com/books/the-fever/ Both interesting and informative.

In any case, after thinking all day I decided not to write anything. I'd rather not have anything terribly serious, since diseases are depressing already. So instead I decided to point you in the direction of a lovely little short by Disney about malaria. It was made back in the '40s (you'll notice when they show a map that we used to have malaria in the States as well). It may not make you super sad thinking about dying children, but it will at least teach you more about malaria--and understanding how malaria is transmitted and can be prevented is a big part of the fight.

So Happy World Malaria Day and enjoy the video!

The Winged Scourge (Disney '43)

a quick video about the history of malaria

For your personal enjoyment and enlightenment:

(Brought to you by Blog About Malaria Month)

Blog About Malaria Month!

It is officially April which means it is officially Blog About Malaria Month (or BAMM). What does this mean, you ask? World Malaria Day is April 25th, and for the occasion, Peace Corps Volunteers all over Africa will be building awareness for the fight against malaria by writing, blogging, and facebook statusing about malaria all month.

So a couple of things:

1. I will try to write more than usual this month about malaria. So get excited about that. We'll see how exactly it plays out. I'll do my best to go beyond statistics about malaria-related mortality, but no promises.

2. You should join the fun! Malaria is often forgotten, perhaps because it's been around forever and is neither new nor necessarily sexy. But it won't be eradicated unless people continue fighting it--and in a coordinated way. So we (me, Peace Corps's Malaria Team, Africans everywhere I assume) would love if you helped build awareness! We even have a logo (above) that you can use to keep you in sync with the BAMMers everywhere. It was created by a PCV and won a competition so you know it's cool.

Get ready for a serious focus on malaria this month!

silky smooth malagasy dancing

Our silk-making tour in Ambalavao finished strong with a little dance rehearsal for our entertainment--and now yours!

it's raining avocados

I love Mexican food. There is no doubt that this is the thing I miss the most when living outside of America. I don't just mean when I'm in Africa. Even in Paris I couldn't find something as simple as hot salsa. What they call salsa is actually tomato sauce.

I do my best to satisfy my cravings by making what I call queso (I'd rather not tell you the recipe—unless, of course, your pity inspires you to send me packages of hot pace picante salsa and meltable cheese). Now that I have an oven, I can also bake my tortillas into some kind of chip. Not the same as regular tortilla chips, but they crunch and they scoop queso and I'm happy.

When I lived in Madagascar before, once I year I would supplement this self-Mexican-medication with guacamole. For a brief period of time, avocados were in season. A certain merchant would get them, and he'd call out to me during my daily market trip—and I would promptly purchase every single avocado he had, which usually meant 4 at most. And then I'd have a few glorious meals of guacamole. Every bite was heaven. This was no fake queso. This was the real thing. Better than most Americans eat. For a few days every year, I had my moment in Mexican sunshine.

I'm about 5 months into my second tour of the island, and needless to say, the Mexican cravings are strong. Here is the general schedule: First 2 weeks fine—you haven't realized yet what you've given up. Weeks 3-7 so so much pain—you never knew you could dream about tacos or that they would feel slightly like nightmares. Weeks 8-10 fine—you appreciate where you are and you know you'll be eating free chips and salsa while waiting for your meal in no time. And then weeks 11 until the end are depressing. You know you love Mexican. You know you can't have Mexican. Even the last handful of weeks are hard—you are so close yet still a half a world away.

Note: If during the course of this reading you at any moment pity me or decide to eat Mexican some time soon—please feel free to send me something as simple as Taco Bell hot sauce packets (I mean, they're free, right?). It's the little things that count. I'm told to just make sure to package them in such a way that if one bursts open the rest don't get messy. No, scratch that—I'm not that picky. A little pre-cleaning will only prolong my possession of those little spicy packets.

As I was saying, I've reached the point where Mexican is among the top ten things I think about every day.

And then it hits me. The avocados. They have arrived.

I heard rumors while I was still in Senegal (oh sorry—I'll explain that some other time). But I played it down, not wanting to get my hopes up. And then our first weekend back in Fianarantsoa, we walked to the market.

And there. Row. After row. Pile. After pile. Avocados. Everywhere.

I guess I always knew that a city like Fianarantsoa—large, near the rainy East Coast, the whole shebang--receives a larger variety and larger amounts of food. In Mahabo (my village on the West Coast near Morondava), I had rice, tomatoes, onions, bananas. I'm exaggerating, yes, but only slightly. I left out potatoes and mangoes. My apologies. Oh and beans. Dried beans. But in Fianar? In less than 5 months I've encountered so much more than I did in my 2 years before! Endless pineapples. Passion fruit. Litchis. Pumpkin. Grapes. Apples. Oranges. Green tomatoes. Random things I don't recognize. It's unreal. We eat so well here! Sure, we'd get a token handful over on the hot and dry West Coast. But usually in Morondava, not Mahabo. And usually expensive and already half rotten from the travel. So I've known and appreciated that my taste buds will be infinitely more satisfied now than the first time around.

But I never imagined the impact it would have on avocados. If anything, I was just crossing my fingers I'd get as many as I did before. But seriously—my old tactic of just-buy-them-all could never work in a million years here. I couldn't afford it—and I'd need a semi to transport them.

I can't think of a better scenario—cheap and giant avocados (10 to 20 cents each, depending on size) and an unlimited supply. I can literally eat guacamole until I burst. It's incredible. If I don't appreciate this experience to the maximum, shame on me—I don't deserve Mexico or her cuisine. So I will count my days in avocados and be grateful for every one.

Do I still miss queso? Obviously. Do I continue dreaming of tacos? Absolutely.

But my abundance of avocados makes the wait a little bit easier.

8 mars

I think I have a new favorite holiday: International Women's Day.

Let me back up a few steps here. I want to note that I was actually unaware of this holiday until I joined the Peace Corps in 2007. I'm not sure which is worse—the fact that we only celebrate women for one day of the year or the fact that in America it seems that we can't even pull it together and make a big deal of that one day. Of course, now that I'm aware of the holiday, I notice comments about the day all over. Perhaps I've simply met a more women-celebrating crowd since then.

In any case, so there I was living in my village, Mahabo, when suddenly the 8^th of March rolls around and let me tell you—it was huge.

One important step for this special day is to release all the women from those daily tasks like cooking and taking care of children so that they can go and get hammered with their friends. That's right. Not all of the women, sure, but man—being a daytime drunk is COMPLETELY acceptable if you are female and it is March 8^th.

So the next thing you do is throw a big party for the women. You put all the important people up on the stage in seats of honor—the mayor, the chef district, the provisor, the token white girl (that's right—me). Then let the dancing begin. Not like nightclub dancing (I mean, it's the middle of the day here). What I mean is that each possible grouping of women (from different neighborhoods, from different churches, police wives—you name it) has been preparing a special dance, traditional Malagasy style, which they perform in front of everyone. It lasts several hours. I have video proof.

Then you wrap up the celebrations by giving a big goose to important people (live, obviously—to be killed prior to consumption) and then send everyone on their merry little ways to drink more. Pretty great.

And the men? Where are they in all this? In America, you would assume creeping on the edges, ready to take advantage of the mass drinking and general elation. But no—not in Mahabo. This is WOMEN's Day. Men have no place here.

On a different note, I find this rather amusing. I can't think of another holiday where only the people being celebrated are allowed to partake in festivities. I mean, Americans celebrate Presidents Day even though the majority of us have never been elected President of the United States.

In any case, it was only a matter of time before I realized that Mahabo's celebrations weren't necessarily universal. Here I was, imagining all the ladies of Madagascar getting down in their town square. But it turns out different towns have different variations.

I expected Morondava to have wild celebrations. I mean, they were only 40k from us, but bigger and by the beach. Surely they know how to party. I was imagining punch coco and dancing into the sunset. But when I asked about the 8^th, I was a given a what's-so-great-about-Women's-Day grimace—half confused, half disapproving.

Apparently, in Movondava, International Women's Day? Not so great. It just means that all the women have to go out and sweep the streets. You know—celebrating women by making them clean. It sounds more like what International Men's Day might consist of.

In the end, I assumed that perhaps Mahabo was the diamond in the rough—truly celebrating women, perhaps by force thanks to our female mayor.

Oh but I was wrong.

Two years later I re-discovered International Women's Day with more delight than ever.

In Fianarantsoa, the 8^th of March is amazing. Imagine this: I had completely forgotten about the holiday. And then I show up to work. And then I discover: women don't work on International Women's Day. That's right. Men? Oh yes. 9 to 5 as per usual. But women? Free vacation day. It would seem that—even more so than in Mahabo—women and women only celebrate their day. I don't know about you, but it's pretty great to wake up early, head in to work, and find out you can go home and bum around all day instead. Especially when you know that not everyone is given that privilege.

Were there celebrations? Dancing? Drinking? Perhaps. I really wouldn't know, because I chose to celebrate being born female by reading a murder mystery on the couch all day.

So happy (belated) International Women's Day to the feminine half of the world! A whole holiday celebrates the fact that you are capable of doing anything, so celebrate by doing whatever you want.

Even if that means doing absolutely nothing at all.

grass is always green

Though I've returned to Madagascar, it often feels as if I live in a new world. There are obvious differences between now and then, of course. I was 22 when I first stepped onto the island, and it's amazing how the 4 or 5 following years can change a person's perspective. Then there's my job. I was a teacher then but am now working to fight malaria. Those differences can and probably will take up another day and another conversation.

But the new world I refer to is my physical location. It's the same island, sure, and they (sort of) speak the same language. But I spent 2 years in a village on the west coast, and am now in a city in the highlands—and the move from Mahabo to Fianarantsoa is striking.

It seems that everyone—whether American or Malagasy—wants to know: “Which is better, Mahabo or Fianarantsoa?”

The question is harder to answer than one might think. My gut instinct is to shout out Mahabo with pride. It's like my Malagasy hometown. But then I ask myself—if given the choice, would I leave Fianar and move back to Mahabo? The answer is a reluctant but firm no.

Which got me thinking.

There are things I love and miss about all the places I've passed through. So how do you define the best place? The ideal home? I decided to compare those things that I love and miss—the things I appreciate and value from each temporary home.

Through lists, obviously.

America. After being stateside for 2 years and change, I was pretty eager to leave again. Yet there are so many things I miss and swear I'll appreciate more when I move back.

1. Mexican food.

For anyone who knows me, this should come as no surprise. And to be clear, I'm not picky about my Mexican food. I realize we've Americanized it like crazy, but that doesn't make it any less delicious. And I realize I can make a lot of the different things I love here. But it's just not the same as going into a restaurant, ordering a margarita or corona (with lime, obviously), and eating a million chips with salsa. With good friends. And no preparation work before taking a bite. I promise myself that I will eat Mexican food once a week minimally when I return to Americaland.

2. Parks and reserves and things of nature's nature.

Yes I do realize that we have lots of national parks here in Madagascar, and that the things you can find in them are quite unique. Trust me, I appreciate lemurs and fosa and all the rest. But I have to say—I miss parks that don't necessarily contain anything special. Just some green grass and cleanliness. I miss biking down the Mississippi to have a BBQ at a park. Or walking around Lake Calhoun then lying on a blanket in the grass watching a movie projected on a big screen outside. Just enjoying regular nature with others who live in your city. Anonymous but also the same as everyone around you. It's pretty great. You should all go outside and take a walk as soon as you finish reading.

3. Central heating.

Cold is oh so very much colder when you are not in America. You never warm up. It's easy to forget how cold cold is when you can break it up by entering toasty warm buildings. But when there is no such thing as heating (unless you have a fireplace, I suppose), the cold gets into your bones and you feel every degree as it drops. We are months away from Madagascar's winter, but I am already terrified.

4. Snow.

I realize how silly this sounds after what you just read, but it's true. Especially when you are nice and warm inside looking out. Who doesn't love the first snow? Walking around in a giant snow globe—everyone you meet can't help but smile. There is something cozy about a winter with snow. Or maybe I just miss wearing cute boots and hats. Actually, it's highly possible that's the only reason I like the snow: because it's a cute outfit enabler. Which brings me to...

5. Cute shoes. Cute clothes. Shopping. Dressing up. You know--all those things.

It's true that there's something liberating about owning only a handful of clothing items and living simply. But I have to say—I'm over it. I miss the creativity involved in getting ready for the day when your closets are full. It's like playing dress-up. Fake animal print. Sparkles. Little skirts. A different pair of shoes every day. I miss it all. I'd promise myself to shop and appreciate all of this more when I get back, but I have to say—I think I did a pretty job before.

I could probably give you more—and most would probably be related to food—but let's keep things simple. Those are the first things that come to mind for right now. Let's move on to the next.

Mahabo. I spent 2 years living in this village near Morondava. In many ways, it's the standard by which I measure all things Malagasy.

1. Brochettes and beers with my proviseur.

This may sound familiar to those who read my old blog. I have to say, there is nothing better. Walking slowly into town while the sun is setting. Sitting down at a table in the sand, underneath the coconut and banana trees. Watching all the people walk by in the evening, when it's finally somewhat cool out. Drinking giant bottles of beer and munching on brochettes dipped in super hot sauce. Chatting with a good friend under the stars. My weekly routine. My main social outlet. It was always the highlight of my week, and when I miss Mahabo, this is what I miss most. Mahabo will always be precious because of the people.

2. Sunshine.

Why is it that the heat is always easier to handle when it is overpowering? It's like you have no choice but to give in and embrace it. You will be covered in a layer of salt and sweat at all times, and you might as well sink into it. You don't notice the heat, because there's never anything else. I loved Mahabo and the constant sunshine. It becomes a part of you. Of course my skin is probably way healthier being away from it. But it's silly—in Fianar it's either raining and I'm freezing cold, or it's not raining and the sun beats down on you. And no—the non-rainy hot part of the weather could never compete with Mahabo. But if I leave for work freezing and then sweat on my walk home? I am one cranky creature. Weather is more enjoyable when it's consistent. And Mahabo handed it to me on a shiny silver sunshine platter.

3. Weekends at the beach.

Seriously, can you get better than living 2 hours from the beach? In my new home it would take much longer to make it to the shore—and then there are sharks once you're there, and you're apparently not supposed to swim. Apparently I was spoiled in Mahabo. Spoiled by pure white sand.

4. My students.

The cool thing about being an English teacher is that all the children in your village know your name. All of them. And they call you Mademoiselle and they treat you with respect and give you drawings. The students of Mahabo were silly and sweet and mine. When you are a nameless white face, you don't quite have the same relationship with the kids who live around town. They mostly just ask you for money and candy.

5. Relaxing in my home.

For those who don't remember or don't know, I had a pretty great house. It was a giant, one-roomed cement block, sure—but it was great. Four giant windows and two doors ensured constant breeze. Plus painted trees and sky everywhere (inside and out) made the view great. Add a little music, a hammock and a swing—what more could you want? The picture of simplicity. Sitting on the back stoop doing laundry, cooking with my solar oven and limited resources, writing letters to friends while sitting at my desk and staring out the front windows—these things I miss. Though the quiet and solitude would drive me crazy if I did it a second time around, I will always cherish the chapter of my life that revolved around acceptance of Mahabo's brand of slow.

Okay. Now on to the pleasures of my latest move.

Fianarantsoa. It is my new Malagasy home. Technically the second-largest city in Madagascar, it is a manageable city, with one main stretch of road where you can find anything you might need. That usually means ice cream or cheese.

1. Our apartment.

Two stories. Refrigerator. Hot water. Bath tub. Courtyard. Guard. Need I say more? Oh and did I mention there's a toilet? Meaning not a bucket and not a hole in the ground to squat over. This is the life! It may not have murals or excessive sunshine and breeze, but Paul and I did get a dart board. Best investment ever. And we got a set of boules for petanque in the courtyard. Oh and there's a balcony where we can climb up to to hang our laundry. No big deal. All I'm saying is that this place is arguably better than our apartment in St. Paul.

2. Accessibility.

I know you wouldn't believe it considering my current blog activity, but I have internet every day at work and a Peace Corps house nearby with wireless. Even when I'm on trips into rural communes, I have an internet stick I bring with so I can check my email. It's amazing. In many ways, I'm able to keep up to date even more than I did in my last job. And considering the electoral drama we've been experiencing for the last several months, it's a good thing! It also makes life feel faster than it did in Mahabo. And, of course, my mother will appreciate the difference whenever cyclones pass through. So there's that.

3. Edible possibilities.

There are three aspects to my new life in Fianar that have dramatically widened the range of meals I eat compared to Mahabo. One, a fridge. Leftovers? Yes. Cheese that can't survive heat? Yes. Ice cubes? Oh yes. Want to buy that giant pumpkin you'll never be able to finish? Why not—you can freeze it and use it all year. Two, Paul. He makes me things like brunch, a spicy tomato soup, and lentil burgers. It's great. I wouldn't have done it on my own. His culinary creativity is more ambitious than mine. And three, I live in a city. Here are things we've been able to buy that I never bought in Mahabo: fancy cheese, white wine, orange juice, oatmeal, and so much more! Turns out cities with white people have fancier foods in stock than do small villages in the middle of nowhere. Who knew? Needless to say, I don't have to worry about being underweight again in my new home.

4. The hills are alive.

Fianar is FULL of mountains and valleys and hills. This may annoy me at noon when I am starving and it's hot out and I have to walk uphill all the way home, true. But it really is beautiful. I'll post pictures sometime. Mahabo was flat as could be, and full of sand with some palm trees, which was also great. But Fianar has a different kind of beauty, full of colors and layers.

5. My job!

I love it. I work 40 hours a week and am therefore nice and busy. My project is working to strengthen Madagascars health systems so that more people have access to quality care--especially those in rural, hard to reach areas. And what I do on any given day varies from data analysis to visits in the field to community health workers living tucked away behind hills and rice paddies. Plus I get to focus on malaria, which is pretty cool. I love what I do, who I do it for and with, and what our goals are. Pretty great. I couldn't have asked for a better fit.

Anyway, this ended up getting long, but I guess my point is this:

I think sayings like “there's no place like home” and “the grass is always greener on the other side” just don't add up. Everywhere you stay leaves its print on you and is in some way a home to you. And you can always find something green about the grass you happen to be lying on.

there and back again

As many of you know, I was evacuated from Madagascar and the Peace Corps after 2 years of service in March 2009. I returned to Madagascar in October 2011. Though it's been a while and I'm completely out of practice, I decided to update you on occasion through a new blog. No promises on how often or entertaining, but I'll do what I can...

A few words on what I'm doing:

I am here as a Peace Corps Response Volunteer (formerly known as Crisis Corps). Basically, people who have successfully completed a term in the Peace Corps are able to use their professional experience to address specific needs through short-term assignments. I'll be in Madagascar for a year working as a Malaria Technical Officer with USAID/Santenet2 implemented by RTI International. I'm be focusing largely on community-based interventions, community health worker performance, and rapid diagnostic test and artemisinin-based combination therapy use. Madagascar is one of the countries selected by the President's Malaria Initiative, and PMI's partnership with the Peace Corps is the reason my job was created!

I can give you more details later, but for now I just wanted to kick this off. I'll provide links for those of you who want to read more than the random and often irrelevant snippets I'll end up writing about. Now that I have better internet access, I may even post pictures. No promises.

So there you have it.