We left Kisimony Island and headed to Russian Bay on April 19. As soon as we dropped anchor in the protected bay, a group of us were in the water; it was proving to be another Madagascar hot day. The captain had informed us that there would be a place to buy beers on land, so while the rest of us swam, Amanda headed to shore to procure some beers. We had to buy them in the morning so we could put them in the fridge to cool by evening; ice and electricity are rarities in these parts.
We found a beautiful coral reef about 300 yards offshore, in about 5m of water. It was teeming with life. We saw our first nudibranchs of the trip: a white whimsical looking fairy called an A. electra. Beautiful little creature, and there were quite a few of them. We also saw a juvenile Emperor Angelfish, and a two and a half foot long Map Puffer who was chilling under a big mound of coral. Both creatures were something to see. We also got to see the first of many Madagascar Anemonefish (Clownfish), very cute creatures who closely resemble Nemo and his dad.
The captain had paid the locals to set up a bonfire on the beach for us that evening. So after dinner, Abdou, the first mate, shuttled us over to the beach (with our now cold beers, of course). It was dark at this point, and as the boat cut through the water, like a galactic space cruiser, lighting up phosphorescent water like plasma. Absolutely stunning.
The Beach at Russian Bay at night was something. There were thousands of hermit crabs of all sizes (some were really massive) swarming over the beach. We had a little hermit crab race with them, taking me back to my camp counselor days. I won, though Nick tried to change the rules mid race and claims that he won. Either way, our hermit crabs were the only ones to even get remotely close to the finish line. Go Team Muzia.
We had a lovely bonfire on the beach. We were joined by our “neighbor,” an Austrian man who had sold us the warm beers earlier. He sat down and offered us some of his hospitality. “We Austrians are known for our hospitality,” he began, “We make the best bread, and the best jam.” At this point, we’re all excited for some homemade bread and jam, looking at each other with twinkling eyes in anticipation.
“But tonight,” he continues, “I bring rum.” And so he did. At least I think it was rum. It could have just been gasoline mixed with turpentine and poured into a bottle. The concoction was passed around a few times, but the liquid level stayed suspiciously similar to where we started, especially with thirteen people drinking out of it. Dominique, Nick, and I were the furthest away from the Austrian and, while he wasn’t looking, poured out a little offering into the sand for the ancestors. Our chef, Madame Zackia, had come with, and she ended up being a superhero that night and killed half of the bottle all by herself. She still was able to get up the next morning and cook us all breakfast. Beast.
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