Dive Right In!

If you were a girl growing up in America in the early ’90’s, you were probably a fan--if not a fanatic--of Lisa Frank. Lisa was a genius graphic designer who captured the hearts and minds of most females 12-and-under for over a decade. She did this with a hallucinogenic worldview that involved splashing cute and cuddly animals with melty, dreamy, electric colors. Her images were pasted onto every school supply I ever owned. No pen, pencil, or trapper-keeper was exempt from the fantasy.

Having not thought of her for years, I suddenly realized that I was living a Lisa Frank wonderland in Mayotte. On any given day, I swam with sea turtles, frolicked with dolphins, ogled at clown fish, and cuddled with lemurs. It all came clear when a local informed me that the main island, Grande-Terre, is shaped like a seahorse. I kept looking for a “Lisa Was Here!!!” neon pink-purple sea otter tattooed onto a rock or tree.
Of many grand “Lisa Frank Moments” during my time in Mayotte, a highlight was my first dive. We were taken to the far reaches of the lagoon, near a coral formation called “Passe en S.” It is an extensive reef shaped like a--can you believe it--S! All of the master divers jumped in and got underway, but the first-timers waited for one-on-one dives with our guide, Patrick. I somehow got voted to go last, which gave me over an hour to contemplate the concept of breathing underwater, and put me at a point where I quite nearly wet my wetsuit.

Finally Patrick came for me. Because I was so anxiously worked up at that point, I did some panicked breathing and almost drowned. Fortunately Patrick hurled me above the surface, yelled, “Get a grip!” and pushed me back under. I did just fine after that. We had a beautiful tour of the ocean floor: I brushed my hand over the most gluey, dancing, neon red sea anemone (which I named Lisa) and made faces with some really ugly eels.

The rest of the stay floated on, I saw octopuses, sting rays, and even sea turtles laying their eggs on the beach late one night. I was so inspired that I came back and opened my own competitive graphic design company. Nah, just kidding, Ma! But I do think it was all pretty surreal...

Patrick and I after my graduation ceremony

Les Ilots

One of the beautiful things about Mayotte are the small uninhabited islands that surround it. There is the main island, or Grande Terre, where most of the people live. Then there is Petite Terre where the airport and a handful of the population live. A number of tiny picturesque islands dot the waters around these two primary land masses. Local fishermen will occasionally agree to take visitors in and around the lagoon: we were not to be left out!

Two of our days were spent "small island" hopping. The first was to the Ilots du Sud. This included Ilot de Sable which is a breathtaking white sandbar in the south, only present during low tide. As deserted and silent a place as you’ll ever visit, we snorkeled and lounged along the shore. Later in the week, we traveled to the Ilots du Nord, spending hours quietly exploring the small territories of the north. In these places, we had entire aqua beaches to ourselves. Perhaps tourism will one day explode on Mayotte, but these days are quiet and untouched.

Touchdown in Mamoudzou

Austria, Germany, and America headed to Mayotte at the beginning of March for a week of sunny exploration in a forgotten corner of the earth. We spent our days combing the reefs of the Mozambique Canal and swimming with sea turtles in the Indian Ocean. A colorful place, rich with nature, filled with human complexity, as removed from the rest of the world as I have ever felt.

Customs officials really like Germanic blonds, they also consider American passports the collectors editions of border control, so the three of us were able to do pretty much whatever we wanted once we touched down. This included but was not limited to bringing another person's baby into the country. Susanne and I sat next to an overwhelmed mother on the plane who promptly handed off little Abdi here as soon as the seatbelt light turned off. "I'll meet you in the taxi area," she said, as she raced off to hit baggage claim. Susi was goo-goo-ing and ga-ga-ing with the little guy while I promptly began to panic about going to jail for smuggling small children.

My fear was unfounded. The border police were so blinded by Susi's blondness, they didn't even see the baby. And then my passport caused a back up of 10 minutes because everyone in the office needed to come and see, hold, pat, and caress a piece of paper with an American eagle on it. The biggest relief was that Abdi's mother was in fact waiting at the taxi stand when we exited the airport and my half hour as a panicked father (I was playing the role of the logistical stern-faced one), ended.

Because of a mix-up, Austria had arrived a day ahead of Germany and I. At the precise moment where Susi and my parenthood ended, Sophie, our welcoming committee, arrived with customary chains of jasmine that were placed in our hair. It was nice having such a seasoned guide since figuring out the airport is a project. Mayotte is composed of two islands: Petite-Terre, where the airport is located, and the main island, Grande-Terre where most of the population lives. In absolute torrential rain, we managed to crowd into an over crowded taxi, cross Petite Terre, huddle with the masses under a small awning, and board the barge that took us to the heart of the capital, Mamoudzou.