I could write lots about Morondava, the town I drove down to last week to spend a few days, but the Internet is dead and Google is your best friend (should you actually want the skinny on the town itself.)

I had booked in to a place at the end of hotel avenue (which, unlike regular avenues is not flanked by trees but by a myriad of hotels, restaurants and “massage” places) but the room they gave me was pokey and smelled mouldy. So, then and there, at 8pm, my trusty sidekick and I went in search of better digs. Most were too expensive or mouldy too (apparently a common problem because of the humid coastal air and the town’s particular building methods.) Eventually, though, we found a Malagasy hotel (rather than one aimed at foreign tourists) that was within my budget and had a zero mould index.

From here I launched many an adventure to the beach, to a local restaurant for pots and pots of hot chocolate and the “Allée de Baobabs” a couple of times. It was pretty rudimentary, with only cold water and a homemade bed, which I fell through the first time I sat on it. But it was clean. And cool.

On the first evening I found it a bit disconcerting listening to the wood worms gnawing away at my bathroom door frame, but for the rest of my time here I kept myself entertained just before bed by sticking my ear to the wood, finding one of the monsters, and then impaling it with my multi-tool knife through the wood. Finally, a few nights ago, with the doorframe pockmarked, and with all the critters eradicated (either that or they were so terrified of me that they stopped their chewing) I could go to bed content. That was until I discovered chewing coming from both the window frame and bed frame. I gave up and left them for the next guest to deal with …

I was promised unlimited Internet when I checked in, but managed to break that too. Apparently they consider 5Gb unlimited. After watching one rugby match, half a cricket match and perusing a few too many photography websites, I’d exceeded killed it within 4 days. So, here I sit writing this blog while perched on the corner of the roof, using one of the other hotel’s bandwidth.

Morondava beach is beautiful. But, sadly, it’s also filthy and used by the locals as a toilet. Apparently they believe that it brings good luck to defecate on the beach – that it’s all about getting rid of bad juju, mojo or spirits. Too often I would line up my lens to shoot a beautiful scene, only to find someone squatting in the foreground. Of course, one loses the joy of feeling the cool, white sand between one’s toes when one thinks about … Oh, you get the picture, I’m sure.

I could write about some of the irritations and funny moments – children begging for “bon bons” and “cadeaux” and how I was propositioned every evening while walking home, but I’m sure all you want is to look at some pictures. Without further ado then, here they are.

High and dry

Boats on the canal

Simple

“Danger, don’t swim here” (Exactly where everyone was swimming.)

Give us sweets. Give us presents…

Pulling in the nets

Beach soccer

Pulling in the nets

Weird, scary-looking catch

Sun shade

Mud hairdo

Another mud(dy) hairdo

Pansy shell in the sunset