Before leaving, condense all worldly possessions into two suitcases that have heretofore been serving as Sharbaraz’s favorite place to sulk and shed copious amounts of cat hair. Everything that doesn’t fit in the suitcases including most of the tattered rags I have been using as clothes get carried over to Rodrigue’s house and donated to the neighbor family. This is more challenging than one might imagine because my house is 2.5x the size of their house and there are already five people and associated clutter residing in it. Call the taxi-van guy in Ifanadiana and arrange to have a taxi stop and pick up four suitcases, two metal trunks, two gas tanks, and two bicycles from Alison and my house tomorrow morning. Inventory furniture, make Rodrigue sign some documents in English he doesn’t understand. Go to bed, sleep poorly.
Day 1- Wake up at 5:00. Give mattress to Rodrigue and family. Sit on front stoop and cry until the aqua-marine taxi van arrives with Alison. There is too much dried cassava on the roof and there is an issue stowing another bicycle up there. Stand around listlessly as things are re-arranged. Pack into the van for grand departure. Drive two minutes to Ranomafana and stop while the driver unloads the aforementioned cassava and frets about not having enough passengers. Depart for Fianarantsoa. Arrange to have driver shirk the local police and drop us off at the Peace Corps house rather than at the taxi station. Arriving at Peace Corps house, create a spectacular mess unpacking and re-packing everything in the common-room. Inventory and return all Peace Corps property (bicycle, metal trunk, water filter, med-kit etc.) to regional office. Grab the two Galana gas tanks I have been using to heat my food and fetch a taxi-cab. Drive to no less than three Galana gas stations before we find one that will take returned gas bottles. Unfortunately, you bought these bottles in Mananjary which according to the clerk is a different gas agency than Fianarantsoa so you need to take the bottles to Mananjary to collect your deposit. Manajary is 8 hours from Fianarantsoa. Walk the bottles down the street and sell them to a sleazy looking fat man selling “used” cell phones on the sidewalk for $25. Meet up with Alison and get Chinese food for lunch.
Day 2 (Thanksgiving)- Arrive at taxi-brousse station at 6:30. “Forget” plastic bag of old underwear in trunk of city taxi. Leave 30 minutes late because some abhorrently dressed diva has decided she no longer wants to come to Antananarivo and demands to have all of her baggage unloaded. Drive for 8 ½ hours through the central highlands listening to This American Life on my Ipod, reminding myself that I never have to be put through this cruel form of transportation torture ever again. In Tana, taxi to Peace Corps house, shower, change, and transform myself into a respectable human being before going with Alison to Jane’s house for a resplendent thanksgiving feast involving turkey and plenty of box wine.
Days 3-5- Since the office was closed Thursday for Thanksgiving, most staff took Friday off and indulged in a four day weekend. Thus post thanksgiving weekend is spent lying about the Peace Corps house working up the intestinal fortitude to provide two stool samples to the medical unit.
Day 6- Arrive at the Peace Corps office and demand the full attention of senior staff. There is a two page checklist of forms, meetings, and official bureaucratic malarkey that requires the direct assistance of no less than twelve different Peace Corps personnel. Sign pledge that you have paid the electric bill in full (ha), swear on your life that you closed the bank account even though the paperwork got lost in Fianarantsoa, and pay Peace Corps the $30 ‘emergency fund’ that remained secured in an envelope under my trunk for just two months before it was used for a non-emergency.
Day 7- Report to medical unit at 9:30 for de-briefs on post-Peace Corps insurance and C-127 forms. Give three vials of blood and a TB test. Leave post haste to make 10:30 dental appointment across town. The first three 194 busses are full so you are forced to resort to using a little elbow to ensure a place in front of the swarm of pushy commuters. Arrive at Adventist Clinic. Brace yourself for the worst dentistry experience of all time. Over the next 45 minutes, the painfully shy Malagasy assistant will need to adjust the x-ray bite wings no less than four times, fidgeting with the machine many more times than necessary. The dentist is a balding half Chinese half crazy man who seems to think this is your first time to the dentist office. He breaks out the plastic model teeth and oversized brush for an interactive lesson on how to brush your teeth. He goes on to lecture about the importance of flossing, making an analogy between marriage and dental hygiene and then stretching the analogy beyond all believable bounds, including references to scripture. The assistant then introduces a vacuum the size of a fire hose to your mouth while the dentist-person uses a shriekingly high pitched aqua drill to tear plaque off your teeth all the while asking apparently rhetorical questions since the two machines and three hands running amuck in your mouth preclude you from engaging in conversation. When the power goes out, find the battery powered headlamp and keep working. Leave the dentist office feeling somehow violated and make your way through traffic to the medical unit. Stool sample tests are back and they are positive for round worm. Take these pills you’ll be fine.
Day 8- Return to office for more running around. Exit interview with Country Director, invalidate Peace Corps ID, collect passport, and leave the Office an RPCV.
Day 9- Wake up early and go for nostalgic run through the rice paddies. Have TB test read by doctor when he arrives. Pack. Leave for airport with Alison and massive suitcase in tow. Because you’re Dutch, take mass transit instead of getting a taxi. Arrive at airport to discover the check-in line wrapped around the entire length of the airport. Bribe airport worker $4 to cut in line. Waste the remainder of my Malagasy currency on overpriced beer at the airport commissary. Cry leaving Alison and pass through passport control. Dry your tears quickly because customs has your cat-hair check-baggage out in the waiting area and calls you over to explain its contents. When they consider removing some of your purchases on less than legal merits, threaten the wrath of the U.S. Embassy and begin calling Jane. When they back off, collect your things and board the plane. Find seat next to sweet elderly French couple and chat them up. During take-off pop the three benadryl that you ferreted away from the medical unit on Tuesday and pass out.
Day 10- Wake up somewhere over the Mediterranean. It is still technically Day 9 in Paris but from here on out what day it is gets a little blurry because you dosed yourself on sleeping medication at noon and have been dead to the world for the past nine hours. Land at Orly airport south of Paris at 10:45pm. Proceed effortlessly through immigration and collect luggage. Your connecting flight is from Charles De Gaulle at 7:15am and you have arranged no ground transportation save looking up a bus schedule. Inquire at the information desk three times and receive three conflicting reports about available transportation and where it leaves from. The flight from Tana is the last scheduled for the day and the airport is closing. You have only 22.15 euros, all in small coins that you bought off of beggars squatting by the banks in Fianarantsoa, not enough for a taxi. While investigating the third lead on buses through the deserted airport, find a sign for a bus listed in the bus schedule you printed off the internet. Follow this sign out of the airport, through a parking lot, around a construction zone, past a hotel to a small metal bench with space for three people covered by a small three-sided glass shelter. It is 45 degrees and it is drizzling. It is now 11:40pm. The bus comes at 1:04am. Fortify yourself behind your luggage and listen to more This American Life while casting suspecting glances at the occasional pedestrian that happens by. The bus arrives as promised. Obnoxiously drag the cat bag up the stairs and hand the driver a heaping handful of coins that totals 6 euros 30. Driving through Paris, marvel at all the smooth roads and pretty lights of night in Paris. Pass a massive Christmas tree at Place d’Italie, Cross the Seine, catch a peek at Notre Dame, and circle Bastille before getting dumped at Gare de l’Est in central Paris at 1:49am. Stand around looking lost until someone asks you where you are going, reply that Charles De Gaulle is your destination and he will usher you to another bus and shove your luggage into the undercarriage. Pay the driver 7 euros all in coins no larger than .20 euro cents. Fall asleep for about ten minutes. The Airport is the last stop on this line and you arrive at 3:48am. Convince the security guard to allow you indoors. Locate a mildly comfortable chair and unpack all three pieces of luggage onto the terminal floor. Re-pack everything so that you meet the new airline’s arcane weight requirements. Try to use the bathroom but discover they are closed. Wait patiently while a KLM employee sets up an elaborate line maze in front of the check-in counter. At 5:45 walk through line maze and check in for flight. Unpack contents of carry-on luggage an additional time for Paris security. On the 70 min flight to Amsterdam, partake in a croissant and coffee as the first bit of food you have eaten since the stewardess revived you somewhere over Kenya and fed you some fishy pasta yesterday afternoon. Arrive in Amsterdam as the sun rises. Schippol airport is decorated in a tasteful holiday cheer. You are so distracted by the shiny lights and pretty things in the shops that you miss your concourse and are late arriving to your gate. There is a long line. Every passenger is being subjected to a 30 second interview before they are allowed to board. Your interview takes 15 minutes. The security agent needs to consult with his managing officer twice over your lack of complete travel documentation from Madagascar, the fact that you hold two valid American passports, and that you had been to Niger two years ago. He also is extremely inquisitive about the fictitious trip to Switzerland that I made up to explain your return ticket to Paris in April. Thankfully you are allowed to board. You do not sleep on this flight. Inform the stewardess about your roundworm condition as a ploy to get more pretzels, crackers, and tomato juice. The retired pastor seated next to you eyes you sympathetically and hands you his roll. Ask to be served both coffee and red wine before landing. Landing in Detroit, become one of those obnoxious passengers that speed walks though the concourse to customs. Get flagged for extra screening because you “were in close contact with livestock” and “visited agricultural areas” during my trip. Meet friendly neighbor Mr. Hedges in the waiting area. Drive directly to Grand Rapids. Meet brother and his significant other for the first time in two years and go to Chipotle for a burrito with all the fixings. Shower at brother’s girlfriend’s house and proceed to my cousin’s wedding. Drink serious amounts of coffee at wedding reception to say conscious for dinner. Meet new family member. Take family Christmas photo. Drive back to Holland. Arrive Home. Mission accomplished.
