Crying Underpants

 climax  

/ˈklaɪˌmæks/

 

1 

a : the most exciting and important part of a story, play, or movie that occurs usually at or near the end

b : the most interesting and exciting part of something : the high point

2 

: the most intense point of sexual pleasure 

No, you filthy pigs. Not the second one, although I will  admit to a breathless “Oh yeah!” and perhaps even a “Oh, Baobob, you’re so BIG!”

I’m talking about the culmination of my trip - my visit to L’Avenue des Baobobs. As you’ll soon see however, even such an awe-inspiring event is tinged with a Malagasy twist. However, before I descend into my rant, allow me to whet your appetite.

And yes, they really are that big. Supposedly some of these are almost 1000 years old and over 25 metres tall. Take my word for it - they’re fucking HUGE.

But let’s pause for a moment and take a step back while I briefly rave about my journey there. All I knew about getting there was that it would take me about 45 minutes from the hotel. Perhaps I should have been alerted when my hotel lady asked if I had a “good, big 4x4”. Yeah, possible hint there.

In any case, when I turned off the highway about 14 km from town and almost immediately encountered gaping holes and virtual moats, my first thought was “Google Maps, you’re fucking me in the arse again, aren’t you?” I mean, seriously - how could this possibly be the route to one of Madagascar’s major tourist attractions?

See what I mean? And, as always, these aren’t the worst parts. Not possible.

And, to make all my doubts even worse, the only other “vehicles” I encountered were rickshaws and a bush taxi or two. NOT encouraging signs. Amazingly, it actually turned out to be the correct route and eventually (VERY eventually) there I was - shaken not stirred. Fucking Madagascar! 

Luckily for you, I’m not going to describe my return trip - in the dark. Let’s just say all the same characters - people, rickshaws, tuk-tuks - and not a light in sight.

I’m not going to waste your time blathering on about how awe-inspiring the trees were and how there must be a God. Take a look and trust me - they’re absolutely amazing.

There’s one in every crowd.

Ta-da!

So the question is was it worth 2 days of 8 hour drives (plus the 2 days it’s going to take to get back) over sometimes horrific roads? I think so, although my judgement may be slightly skewed by my desperate quest for a “climactic” sight. Tough call, but, as of now, no regrets.

Veni, vidi, vinci.