On living and working onsite

One hundred years ago, or even in Andavadoaka today, if you wanted to talk to someone or to give them a message, you went to their house. If they were in, you could tell them what you wanted them to know. If they weren't in, you'd either wait until they were, or you'd go away and come back later. Or perhaps you'd write a message out and leave it on their door.
Then came the landline telephone (but not in Andavadoaka). This meant that you could call
someone first to see if they were in. If they didn't answer, you accepted that they weren't in and you called back later. If they were in, they would answer the phone and you could talk to them.
Then came the answerphone (though not in Andavadoaka). This meant that even if they weren't in, you could leave a message which would get recorded and they could play it back later. You started to therefore have different expectations. Now, even if someone wasn't in, you didn't have to wait to tell them your message, you could just leave a recorded message and they picked it up. Of course, there were some people who didn't like to leave a message on a machine. But there will always be luddites.
Then came the mobile phone (though not for most of Andavodoaka. Yet). This meant that even if someone wasn't in (their house), they were 'in' and you could talk to them. Revolution! You never have to wait to get hold of someone again.
Our working environments have also changed in a similar way. We are at work, even when we're not at work thanks to mobile phones, faxes, internet and wireless modems in coffee shops. We're always in touch. We expect immediacy with our contact and we're impatient when we don't get it.
Now, you might think it strange, but living and working in Andavadoaka is somewhat similar. Despite the general laid back pace of life here, despite the fact that there are no mobile phones in use in the immediate vicinity. Despite the fact that I work in a hut 15 metres from the sea (as we speak - cos the tide is up), my colleagues and staff expect the same kind of immediacy. This isn't down to technology, it's simply because our hut is our office and our home and we are always there. Unless we're not. But my point is, when we're there, when we're 'in', people expect us to be IN and available. Whether we are or not. And it's difficult to tell people to go away.
But the fact is, if we were not in the hut when they came round, they would go away and come back later. Or leave a message.
But unless someone needs evacuating, it's very rare that we are actually NEEDED at that immediate time. Likewise, a lot of the Malagasy staff expect their issues to be dealt with as and when and aren't very good at planning ahead. So they'll leave things until the last minute, so that we feel obliged to deal with those things rather than turn them away - at 6.30pm or at 7am or whatever time of day it is that they come.
I now have a laminated sign that says "do not disturb" in three languages. But it won't be enough.
I'm going to have to get used to physically telling people to go away and to come back when I am working. It's going to be hard to do. But if it was a 9 to 5 working environment, then people wouldn't expect me to be at work at all other hours of the day and night.
And though it's not a 9 to 5 environment, and I wouldn't want it to be, I'd rather it wasn't a 5am to 9pm working environment and so people have to get used to the idea that even when I'm in, I might not be 'IN'.

I did my 400th dive this week. I didn't celebrate it in any particular way - by diving naked or wearing a silly bikini. I didn't even go without my wetsuit. But it was a very lovely, very pleasant dive and a nice way to pass that milestone. I've done 60 dives since arriving here in September so there's every chance that I'll also see my 500th dive in Madagascar. Perhaps I'll make an effort for that one.

More wildlife update: big scary spider in our shower on party night. I don't
know what was worse. The fact that it was there when we went to bed in the dark (thank goodness for mosquito nets) or the fact that it wasn't there when we woke up in the morning. We haven't seen it since. I'm resting my hopes on the gecko having eaten it - though the spider is about twice the size of our resident gecko.

I got nominated for tai be this week, for only the second (or possibly
third?) time since arriving in September. Not only did I get nominated once, I actually got nominated 4 times. It had been a particularly discombobulated day admittedly (one of my nominations was for losing a tape measure over the side of the boat), but I still thought that nominating me for having a hairdryer was slightly spurious and it felt a little like I was being ganged up on (although not in any malicious way).
I didn't have much competition (from myself mainly!) and so won the vote (lost?) with quite a majority. So, for the first time since arriving in Andavadoaka, I took my first snorkel test.
As I was already fairly tipsy due to having consumed one rum at Laguna Blu earlier that afternoon and a small glass of shandy (it doesn't take me much), I elected to do the snorkel test with some lemon fanta instead.
Justin and I went back to Laguna Blu the next day on day-off for a lovely lunch. The food was nice, but it was nicer just to be somewhere quiet, without volunteers and with vegetables that weren't boiled out of all recognition. We have booked in for a night at the end of the expedition - which also happens to be valentine's day.