From the sublime to.... After bidding goodbye to the butterflies, I ventured into hot, dry Madagascar -and this --
not one of the prettiest sights of the day.
Much sweeter was a little pure white hedgehog, fast asleep on a rock. A bit hard to see. A faerie version of our good old British hedgehogs but, I was told, absolutely no relation. Funny, that.
And here were baobab trees, straight out of "The Little Prince".
Fat and ungainly. They looked upside down, their roots on top.
Our guide proudly showed off this young chameleon in a fetching shade of pink, "No that's not how we tell she's female". Her mother, said the guide reverently, had recently passed away at the grand old age of five-and-a-half. The chameleon's eyes were mesmerising, swivelling back and forth in their sockets like gobstoppers.
Meanwhile some radiated tortoises where being chauffeured off for their sunlamp treatment.
And I stopped off at the gift shop, which had a very British display.
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