I´m still so confused as to how I got to France in the middle of the Indian Ocean, somewhere between Madagascar and Mozambique, but not quite the Comoros. Because of some referendum, Mayotte became a part of France in 2011, and thus a part of the EU, but remains the poorest part of France and the outermost region of the EU. There is a large influx of ex-patriots and metropolitans from France, but the local people identify as Maore, speak a language similar to other Comorian dialects, and are almost 100% Muslim. There is a history of Arab invasion and Malagasy pillaging, and the mix of African and Asian features under their colourful clothes takes you worlds away from anywhere European.
I couchsurfed in Mayotte and two of the Comorian islands – Anjouan and Grand Comore. There were only one or two active couchsurfers in each place, and somehow my dates were perfect, but little travel information or tourism appeal made me totally underbudget my time on these islands. I thought 3 days would be enough, on islands only a few hundred square kilometers. But, despite having small populations, centered mostly on villages around the coast, there was endless ecotourism possibilities – volcano and crater lake hikes, beaches only reachable by pirogue, mountain peaks to summit thru the jungle, and wildlife viewing on the way to boot.
In Mayotte, I visited the Dziani Crater lake, walked around it, and dropped down to the Moya beaches (theres Moya beach 1, 2 nd 3 I think) on Petite Terre. In flipflops I summited the second largest peak in Mayotte, Mont Choungui, 594m. The French guy who I was hiking with did the same, but one of his flipflops broke on the way down, which actually proved its easiest to do it barefoot, slowly. The beaches aren´t that beautiful around Mayotte, but Sakouli beach is a black-sand beach with an inviting beach bar under a huge baobab tree.
In Anjouan, the capital city Mutsamudu has a quaint bazaar/central market and an old medina with a few salvaged mosques and old hand-carved, wooden doors. The citadel, who´s walls overlooking the city double as some sort of public toilet, has a beautiful view over the city and port, and consequently the garbage dump that piles up beside it, always in a steady, smoky, burn. I spent one day hiking to a sacred lake near Dindri, which lay somewhere on the edge between mountains and valleys, and earth and sky.
Domoni was slightly smaller and cleaner, with a medina winding around beside the sea, between 4 mosque towers. Anjouan also has its own Moya beach, with one hotel and restaurant on the cliffs behind the yellow-sand beach where you can pre-order a lobster lunch or dinner overlooking the sea. Just be prepared to be the only one there, unless you brought some friends.
In Grand Comore, I couchsurfed with and Indian guy, who was born in Madagascar, raised in the Comoros, educated in Paris, and then somehow spoke Swahili but I think he never lived in Tanzania… but I’m not sure. He thought French cheek to cheek kiss greetings were disgusting and probably had a mild case of germophobia, but he was one of the most hospitable couchsurf hosts I´ve ever had.
With a group of his friends, we piled on to the back of his flatbed truck and drove to the southern tip of the island. There, we rented a boat and a driver, put his engine on it, along with some fish and beer, and drove out to an isolated beach which we were promised to have all to ourselves. When two other people showed up from nowhere (landside), we just laughed and carried on acting as if we were castaways in an episode of Survivor.
On Grand Comore, there were beautiful beaches, and a lot of hiking that I missed out on. I did visit one crater and hiked around the brim, but only made it half way when I met a crazy farmer who must have been in love with his bull zebu. He kept stroking it and smiling at us when he spoke about him, and then showed us how to arouse a Zebu erection. I wished I had stayed the whole 10 days just in Grand Comore, especially since the supposed 3 hour ferries between islands actually take 12 with delays and waits (don’t trust a word the SGTM Ferry says and give yourself lots of time to travel with them!).