Antalaha
At the fifth day we arrive at Antalaha, hurried by Paul, the Australian, who was in rush due to his time delimitations, and here we have some moments for readaptation to what will be to begin the travel.
Vestiges of the colonization that did not stop. The patios where women dedicate themselves to the meticulous work of making handfuls of vanilla pods; the fragant pistils of the plant that makes up the wealth of the Antalaha region and whole island. Or rather, of some of the figures of Madagascar, very few. Long strolls until nightfall, when no longer mango fruits are left and still with breeze blows the desires to take the last beer come. Morning of the departure. Usual delay of the airplane; before boarding the luggage and the passengers have to be weighed. A german-speaking fat girl feels embarrassed before the lack of the presence of convenient dissimulation in the staff's response. Small details.
