Mora-Mora

Mora-Mora is the local Malagasy word for "Slow Slow" (Would mean Rasberry-Rasberry in Spanish!). This is the motto for there unimaginablly beautiful innocent life here. The village I am staying in is called Mahambo, and thereis no logical reason to travel any further than here. A perfect place for some decompression. It rains for a a few minutes, thensome rainbows, then sunny, then big puffy clouds roll in. This cycle continues day and night. There coast is ladden with crooked spine coconut tress, coral reefs, and white sand beaches. There is NO trash on the beach, which I find amazing. Not because they clean it, but maybe the currents do not bring all of the trash across the ocean. Who knows, but it is refreshing to see. The sand is big and round, and tickles my feet when I run on it in the morning. They sell lychee (those red prickly fruits here) in baskets that they make from palm leaves. NO PLASTIC BAGS THROWN ON THE GROUND! Never have I beenso excited to see litter. Beautiful rotting baskets. I am diligently learning French, but it is not something that comes naturally. The sounds are so delicate, and often I have Portuguese or Spanish floating around between my ears. Not to mention that the language her isMalagasy, and French is not preffered. However, the French culture is infused here. The woman wear bright sarongs, and big wide brimmed sun hats. Their grass and palm woven huts are so ornate, and they paint the doors and windows various colors. They landscape with the rich well of local plants. The food is wildly fantastic as well. Fresh fish and home grown rice, and sauces made from curries, coconut, and fresh picked vanilla beans. The drive from Antanarivo to here was wild. Four different overturned trucks, two dead bodies, and a lot of car sick children. I do not think there was a stretch of highway longer than 100 meters of straightaway. The landscape itself is hard to put in words. So lush and green and the colors seem to vibrate.Madagascar is home to a lot of plants that are found no where else on the planet because of its isolation, and often I felt like I was walking through a Dr.Suess book. There is the cutest little movie theatre in the village which plays movies at 6 in the evning when the generator turns on to provide a bit of electricty. The little kids pile in there and sit on row after row of little wooden benches and watch trashy and often violent American movies. It is no wonder they often beginning to gleefully kick and punch each other on the beach! The one noticable difference between here and Africa, is the affection for children. It seemed in Africa, the women would squeeze out a baby , throw it on her back and head of the farm more corn. Here, the children are held and hugged making them impossibly innocent and gentle. Never have I seen such smiles...including mine!