Oh lord has it been a long time since I have updated this blog, and I blame it all on Joe. My brother came to visit me for the month of May and it was an absolutely fabulous time, it just kept me busier than I usually am most months so I haven't had the time to write up any stories of my many blunders to amuse you all.

Joe arrived in country on April 28th at 10pm, I was at the airport waiting for him by 9 as I was able to get a free ride with a friend of mine who was returning to the United States for vacation. The plane landed and I was there with my face pressed against the window waiting for my brother, and I waited and waited and waited and waited and while all kinds of French tourists poured of the plane Joe was no where to be seen. Finally I saw that schock of redish brown hair that I recognized as my brother, as I ran to greet him I was stopped in my tracks when I noticed that he was being escorted by a police officer. What had Joe done? He had not even officially entered Malagasy soil and he was in trouble. Luckily it was an easily solvable problem- he didn't know my address and they wouldn't let him through costumes unless he had the address of where he was staying. Over three hours after Joe arrived on Malagasy soil we were finally on our way to the hotel. We stayed up to the wee hours of the morning chatting and I took the opportunity to take a hot bath. I dragged Joe out of bed at 7:30 am the next morning, it was time to go shopping. I was determined that we needed to buy a duck or chicken for Joe to bring to my in-laws, I wanted to impress them with my knowledge of Malagasy culture. In Madagascar when a visitor comes to stay with someone they need to bring a gift, and the best gift is some type of fowl. I personally had a great time buying a duck and brining it back to Anivorano, but I think that in the end it was just something that was expected of me and we didn't impress anyone just managed to carry a squawking duck halfway across the country and create a little bit of additional stress on Joe's part. By 11 we were at the taxi brousse station waiting for our brousse to Brickaville. I think it is safe to say that the brousse station and the amount of time we spent waiting disgusted Joe. We were only two hours behinde so really we were on time by Gasy standards. We stopped in a small village on the road for lunch and Joe had his first experience with Malgasy portions, a mountain of rice and a spoonful of beans.

After the lunch break it was back in the brousse, the duck pecked at our feet and the sun shown threw the window while we whipped around the death pin turns of RN2. I am always impressed with my ability to keep my lunch in my stomach in these types of situations, especially when the lady in the back seat is throwing up hers. I used to consider my self a sympathetic vomiter, but no longer, Madagascar and a large dose of motion sickness medicine has cured me of that tendency. After many "it's not much further"s from me and growing frusteration on Joe's part we arrived in Brickaville around 7pm. Once we arrived we walked to Tahiry's (my sister in law) and had dinner and waited for the train to arrive, after much waiting, again, we finally arrived at our destination at 2am. Joe's introduction to my village involved stumbling threw the dark and stubbing his toes on the uneven roads (or maybe that was me that did all the stumbling and toe stubbing).

Once we arrived in Anivorano Joe had a couple of days to acclimate a little bit before he was required to start performing and running around the country, but those are stories for the next post.