Travel reports from Madagascar

You never go out of this life alive

A dog's life

Only the ears sometimes twitch something, like a nervous tick. They hang slack over his face as he lies almost motionless in the grass. Every now and then he stretches, trotting leisurely a little further, and then stretching himself out again. Sometimes, when he sees that there is something to feast on, he gets shaky, with begging eyes he looks at me: Could he please get a bite?

A dream island

Treasure Island

The strong south wind made us lie, and so the ship glided over the waves full of sails. Had we, still lying in the port of Toamasina, bought plenty of provisions, a box full of bananas, another with large pineapples and the like, the supplies would not last long. Yes, there was enough fish in the water, but the rice was already eaten to the last grain.

Ahoy, comrades, ahoy, ahoy!

We were off Madagascar

Orange. They painted the wood of the outer walls in a truly colorful way, garish orange. I stand at the bow and look at the island that is on the horizon in front of me. The sails are set, we glide evenly through the canal of Mozambique. I turn around and see the huge island of Madagascar slowly disappearing in the mist. We drive to Nosy Komba.