A beach in Nosy Komba, Madagascar
My French came back to me with remarkable clarity as I staggered out of the ocean clutching my stinging ankle.
“Je suis blessé,” I wailed, then proved I was injured by tumbling over as my ungainly flippers snagged on the volcanic rocks peppering the beach. Something that felt suspiciously like a crown of thorns had gripped my ankle as I’d waded through the murky water. Now my ankle was punctured …