Day 21 - Last Day in Madagascar

We caught a taxi to the Lemur Park, which, for good reason, is the number 1 attraction in Tana. Taking one last ride through the markets was also interesting. The drivers are always careful to ensure that our doors are locked and they don't like me bring in out my camera for pictures. Lemurs are on display from around the island and Wilson, our guide, not the volleyball was excellent. First we were introduced to the cockerels lemur from the east coast named after a French dude so I'm probably spelling this incorrectly. This was a smaller lemur not the least bit shy that would dance along the ground before jumping in a tree. The sifakas we were introduced to were new to us. Nicola says they were some kind of crested sifaka, black or white or something. He showed us a couple of nocturnal lemurs who were both sleeping in a hole with their bums toward us. And of course, there were the ever present brown lemurs scavenging around the outdoor tables where we shared a big beer after enjoying our walk. They were of particular interest to the young daughters of a couple at the other table. A black woman who I believe was with them had no qualms about feeding them even though signs stated it was strictly forbidden.

The return drive to our hotel took about half the time it took going out. Our driver wanted to drive us out to the airport for 40 ariary's  however Nicola was hoping for a car in better condition. The seats in this one had almost no padding and the back axel made a disturbing clunking noise. That said I felt comfortable with the guy’s driving which may be more important than the car’s condition.

Upon our return, we went for coffee at the Colbert Hotel and then went searching for one of the interesting chess sets we'd seen. Instead we found an art gallery featuring local artists who also offered to do portraits. We did find one of people walking away from the artist down a road. Two were women with baskets on their heads, a very common sight in Madagascar making the painting not only a piece of art but a nice keep sake. One of the artists brought a list of prices and when we said we were interested in one, much excitement was generated among the artists at the front. We asked for a tube to transport it and three of the young men quickly became busy with constructing one. Then the artist of the painting appeared and wrote something on a card for us. I asked if I could take his picture to which he readily agreed positioning himself beneath one of his own, larger paintings. A receipt was produced and the transaction completed.

We returned to the Kudeta restaurant for one last, very enjoyable dinner in Tana. Because we had felt somewhat ill at ease walking the block from the restaurant to our hotel the previous night, we took a taxi. Then, we gathered our bags from the hotel and I sent the doorman to get a taxi. He returned with one in even worse condition than the one we'd taken that afternoon. This one’s headlights were difficult to detect not only for us but also for oncoming cars as the driver kept flicking his lights at them to make sure they saw us. After passing a truck and two cars, I asked him to slow down to which he became outraged but the matter was mute. We had arrived at the airport.

Madagascar then played one more trick on me. As we were standing in line, a young man surreptitiously showed me 20 Euros in coins. He said he would exchange these for 60,000 Ariarys which would have been a good exchange rate. He counted the coins in front of me twice which should have given me a clue. I knew that once we were through security, my Ariarys would be worthless and as far as I could see the currency exchange office was closed. So, I agreed to the deal. I gave him the 60,000 and he gave me the coins. We found the priority line for checking in and were through immigration in about half an hour. (There were about five or six people in front of us and one immigration agent who was trained in the fine art of dithering.). Then it was onto the security check which actually included an x-Ray machine a metal detector. It was when I was picking up the coins I'd deposited in the tray that I discovered that none of the two Euro coins he'd shown me in his hand had made the journey to mine. I had to laugh. “You can't trust anyone,” M had told us. He also told us that not trusting anyone was exhausting. According to a Financial Times report, Madagascar is the seventh poorest country in the world. It also has the seventh highest murder rate in the world. Enter at your own risk.

Day 20 - Tamatave and Tana

Nicola and I were really nervous about getting to Tana before our Air France flight so Nicola had looked into the possibility of a bus. K had talked to her walking friends who said we should trust that the flight on the 21st would leave on time. We didn't so I phoned Air Madagascar to see if I could get on the afternoon flight that day. He said that I should go to the airport at about 11:30 for a 1:30 flight. K looked it up on the website and said the plane wasn't leaving until 2:30 so we didn't need to be there until 12:30.
Before leaving we said good-bye to M at the plant. We shook hands and I told him that we would likely see us again that night and then we headed on our way. I was getting very nervous about getting a seat on the flight when my phone rang at 12:50. It was the attendant from Air Madagascar who asked where we were. I said that we were just arriving at the airport. She told me that she could wait a minute but if we didn't arrive right away, she was going to give away our tickets. I couldn't believe it. The guy at Air Madagascar, the same one who'd been yelled at by the Frenchman had reserved us a ticket on that flight. We were going to make it after all. K seemed pretty sad to see us go but we really needed to get on that Air France flight.
The plane was small, 25 seats by Nicola’s count, three to a row, two on one seat, one on the other. As a twin prop we got excellent views of the landscape. Much of the land around Tamatave was forested but became more denuded the close we got to Tana.
The Tana Hotel was modern and the room was nicer than the Colbert however it was missing some of ambience so we made a trip over for some juice in their Café. Then we went out for some more souvenir shopping. Much of the neighbourhood we'd already scoped but new to us were the jewelry stores located right nearby. Nicola had noticed some funky stuff in display cabinets and the Hotel Colbert. These stores featured only high end merchandise heavy with gold and chunky. I did notice a single black pearl on chain and Nicola suggested we enquire. Almost two million ariary or $1400. He told me that the pearl was from Tahiti and very valuable. Why would I want to buy a pearl necklace from Tahiti in Madagascar? When he could see I wasn't interested he came back with a pledge to give us a deal but it could never be enough of a deal.
Dinner was supposed to be at the Kudeta which was obviously French and filled with expats. Standing in the doorway, we were asked if we had reservations. When we said no, they told us we were full. We must have had faces of utter dejection (probably because we had no idea where else we would go) they suggested that we could sit at the bar and they would find us a table. Five minutes later, we were given one in the bar. The food was excellent and the atmosphere excellent as the restaurant is of a quality that would be competitive almost anywhere.
Walking home in the dark made us a bit nervous as there are no street lights and the city is not known for being safe.

Day 19 - Tamatave

We returned to the clinic in the plant where the doctor pronounced Nicola’s wound about healed and complemented her on her healing powers. During the ambulance ride we attempted to convince the paramedic to come work in Canada. She says she likes small towns and civil society.

Lunch at the old yacht club now tennis club although no one was playing tennis. There were some kids in the swimming pool. Nicola did notice some trophies in the clubhouse dating from the 50s. Then it was back to the market to shop for more souvenirs. Nicola spent most of her time comparing the quality of embroidery on table cloths.

At 5:30 I received text from Air Madagascar aka Air Maybe informing us that our plane was cancelled for the next day and was rescheduled for the 21st at 7:30, the same evening our Air France flight was due to leave. Not wanting to risk missing the Air France flight and so all the other flights down the line, we decided to attempt a change the next day.

We treated our generous hosts to dinner that evening at a restaurant built where the railway station once functioned. Of note, was the bar built from a car stopped on the narrow gauge tracks. The following evening they'd advertised a going back to school party complete with a wet t-shirt contest.

Romeo, the driver, finished a long day that started in the morning with M and ended with us at a little after nine.

Day 18 -Tamatave

The day began with Nicola asking me to examine a red, pussy mark on her stomach. It looked like a boil only it had this big, black head on the end. Having just performed minor surgery in my foot by removing a sliver that was aggravated I thought I'd make a stab at Nicola's problem. Thirty seconds of examination told me that this required intervention beyond my pay scale so the question was, do we have someone look at it here or wait till we get back to Canada. Nicola showed it to K who was concerned it might to a worm which freaked Nicola out so when asked if she would rather see someone later in the afternoon at the clinic or right away in the plant, she chose the plant. This required that the ambulance pick us up from the gate and take us to the clinic. However, when we arrived there was a Ford Explorer and Suzanne and to drive us. The ambulance wasn't available. It took surprisingly long to drive around the compound to the clinic. We passed three huge stacks of coal, sulphur and limestone all involved in the process. We also passed the the railway depot where these supplies are offloaded. We were able to see very little of the plant that it's made up of pipes and five story structure that looks like a building at night. 

Interestingly, the clinic is the least permanent of the buildings composed of a work trailers. After filling out the various forms, Nicola saw a young female doctor from South Africa and received excellent treatment. The wound was lanced and then cleaned. The diagnosis was a spider bite which is what I'd thought was the most likely problem after a cursory internet diagnosis. Our return ride was in the ambulance with another young South African woman who was working as a paramedic. She said that she would never travel Madagascar. Instead, on her holidays, she liked to go to Mauritius. She did not like the dangerous living conditions of her own country and preferred to visit countries where her life was not in danger such as Botswana and Zimbabwe.

Lunch at Ocean 501 where we sat on the beach and watched the locals. Again with the older white dudes and their young Malagasy chicks, one guy in his sixties with a four year old. A couple of young guys competing in the thirty metre dash on the beautiful white sand. A fisherman heading out in his pirogue in the same direction as a tanker anchored off-shore.

We did stopped for chocolates at Roberts centred in Tana. They were truly exceptional. The company had competed in some international competition in France and won a bunch of awards. According to the consensus, it was the freshness of the ingredients that really made then distinctive.

Our final destination was the market where we negotiated in a stall for emeralds. K had obviously scoped this out for us. The owner was a 20 something woman who showed us a couple of groups of stones. One group was larger and not of the same high quality of the other. Nicola picked the largest of the second group with only one small flaw, well minuscule because we were looking at it through a jewellers magnifying glass. K jokingly reprimanded the girl for not having more on hand as she has talked to the husband earlier. That said, Nicola was happy with her selection and with the help of K, we negotiated a price which K said was good and I didn't think possible.

Our final job of the day was to change the reservation for our flight that was to leave at 7 o'clock on the 22nd just a few hours before we are to catch the Air France flight to Amsterdam. Both M and the ambulance attendant said that Air Madagascar flights could not be relied upon. K said that they liked to fill their planes and so will cancel some flights or reroute then to ensure that happens. She and M had recently been rerouted on a flight from Nosy Be. Nicola said that it was referred to as Air Maybe in the travel guide.

The building where their offices are housed has no signs on the outside and the only indication of its identity on the inside was a little Air Madagascar flag on each of the three desks where clerks can attend to their clients. After some wait, we sat in front of a younger man who knew enough English to make communication clear. He was not the least upset about being yelled at by a previous customer. In fact,he had no problem changing our flight to the 21st from the 22nd. The only problem was noticed by K who saw on the print out that there was no confirmation on that flight.

Day 17 – Manda Beach

We met K for breakfast in our hotel as it was considerable nicer than hers as we experienced the night before. Then, we caught a tuk tuk to Manda Beach which we had seen from the point of land the day before. After getting out of the tuk tuk, we were immediately mobbed by a group of guys trying to sell us on their tour of the reef in a pirogue. After we negotiated the price on the tour, the lead guy, short, slim, in his early 20s and wearing large Ray-Bans, immediately proceeded to sell us lunch that would be ready when we returned. Eventually we agreed on a price for lobster that was higher than the better restaurants we'd frequented. The pirogue is a hollowed out log often with one pontoon that can be fitted out with a sail. It is from these boats that the people fish and take tourists out to see the reef. We all sat in row with me at the back. When the water became particularly shallow I would get out however this was not encouraged because there are all sorts of nasties in the water there like sea snakes and spiny sea urchins. We had two guides, one at the front of the boat and one at the back, neither was the dude in the Ray-Bans. Both were in the early 20s and wore long shorts and a t-shirt, one with pants he was constantly tugging to keep up and the other of a more muscular build. . We weren't in the water long before both guides got out and started searching for creatures. They first pulled out a creature “droopy pants” called a serpent which means snake in French but was more likely a sea cucumber because it could suck its “head” back into its body, a lovely sight. Then he showed us a dead piece of coral and then a live piece, both of which he threw back into the water. Then the muscular dude pulled a small fish out from under a rock and plopped it into the boat where it proceeded to flop around until he killed it with the end of his shovel. (To be sold I would guess.). Then there was the sea urchin that sucked itself into the front of the boat only to be tossed off later. And surprisingly, there's very little coral and very few creatures left alive on the reef.

Much to our surprise, lunch was not ready when we returned to the beach. We were given two chaise longs and a bench to sit on under an umbrella and were then inundated with people selling us many different products but mostly food. K is quite adventurous with local cooking so we stopped one of the ladies carrying around a tray of such. She was quickly joined by others. On display was a dark brown stringy cookies sized item which turned out to be baked coconut which was sweet and really delicious. Then there was a honey flavoured cookie with two sides and a filled with some kind of nut. We tried a number of fried, donut style products all with fillings, none of the sugary kind at Tim Hortons however I have no idea what they were. Also for sale were live chickens with their feet tied to a stick being carried around by a man of shorter stature and ragged clothing. I was offered one for purchase however declined. We also declined the coconuts, the inflatable toys, sea shells, and shrimp.

When the lobsters finally arrived, they appeared suspiciously like the jumbo prawns I'd eaten at Vakona Lodge with a more rustic presentation. That said, they tasted fabulous as were the mixed vegetables. The wind and rain picked up just as we finished eating and the guy in charge of the umbrellas tried to use some as a wind break but we were done and it was time to head back to our hotel and then Tamatave but not without one more altercation with the Ray Ban dude who used very excuse to pull more money out of our pockets. This time, he claimed that we'd negotiated a price for the meal higher than the three of us could recall. As we knew the extra funds would go in his pocket and not those who'd been responsible for our culinary delight we held fast and he was left pouting.

Along the road, some ladies were selling more of their local baking very much like that we'd purchased on the beach. We sampled a variety and then drove the rest of the way into town and back.

Day 16 – Foulpoint

 Today, K had planned a trip to the beach. That is, a beach where we could swim because the beach extends for endless miles along the coast. Romeo drove us to the town of Foulpoint past a number villages and compounds. The compounds are bounded by stick fences and occasionally weaved bamboo used in place of where we might use boards. K pointed out that some of the sticks have shoots and leaves growing at the top. Point being, it's very easy to grow things here.

We passed a series of stalls selling baskets and other weaved products. K asked if Nicola wanted to shop, a question which includes one of Nicola's favourite activities and so, of course, we had to stop. And of course, Nicola couldn't find anything because how on earth is she going to get a basket back to Canada without it getting crushed.

Before going to the hotel, we stopped at Manda Fort. This is the only surviving Fort made from eggs and ground coral. These made a paste that could be used to cement the rocks and thereby build the fort. It must have been blinding inside. Unfortunately, UNESCO has not declared it a heritage sight and being in Madagascar everything of value has been removed so that only walls and the outer shells of two of the buildings are left. Fidel, our guide, told us that at one time the walkway around the walls was made of rosewood but it had since all been stolen. Cannon, a gift of the British were still in place along a few of the opening. Fidel showed us where the opening of a tunnel that extended three kilometres to allow for people to escape and soldiers to be resupplied during times of siege. He knocked on the cement overtop and with the hollow sound help reassure us of its existence. He said people couldn't go don it anymore because it was full of snakes and showed us a bunch of snake skins to again assure of the tunnels existence.

Fidel told us that he was the seventh generation of individuals connected to the Fort and then proceeded to tell us a story about the slave trade and how the British had ended the trade after they had started to make use of machines. He said that slaves passing by Madagascar would try to escape in order to achieve freedom. He told of a woman on board one of these slave ships had had her chains unlocked by a Chinese man so that they could drink water. When he was not looking she jumped into the water, she swam to shore. (Swimming motions included with the story.) It happened that night that she and other Somali women who'd escaped were asked to entertain some British officers with their dance. The officers were so impressed with their performance that they asked the women to stay behind and seven generations later, he was introduced to the world.

La Cigale (the swan) Hotel was new and very nice however they screwed up K's reservation so that they had only one room and not two available that night. So, being a very considerate hostess, K gave us the remaining room which had a large balcony overlooking the beach and went next door where they had a single room without even a window available for that night.

After lunch, we went for a swim on a beautiful sand beach in front of the hotel which, except for a few young people in the water and few fishermen on shore, was empty. The surf was fairly rough and the shoreline had a bit of an incline so swimming wasn't the easiest. It did, however, make for some very good body surfing. The waves were easy to catch and they'd take you all the way into shore where they would slam you into the sand. By getting up before or after the wave has retreated I could save being twisted in the current. Neither Nicola nor K were enthusiastic body surfers staying closer to shore where body damage would be limited.

After our swim, we walked along the beach past many, many pirogues turned upside down in the beach. A few fishermen, with the help of their wives were untangling fishing nets. The tide was in so we weren't able to walk out the reef but we could see the waves breaking against it about 50 metres out.

There's a point where we could see around bend in the shoreline and from a distance we could see the crowds on Manda Beach. Beach chairs and umbrellas lined the water and K told us that you can rent a chair and someone will keep you supplied with drink and food. The contrast was striking between the emptiness of our beach and the crowds on this one visible from a distance. I thought at the time, it was because our area was exclusive to those inhabiting the local hotels but I was wrong.

We had dinner next door at the hotel where K was staying as ours wasn't serving dinner that night. We were joined by another couple and their early teen boy from the other hotel. The rest of the patrons were older French guys with their much younger Malagasy girlfriends. You see this everywhere here, older white guys, almost always French, with their younger Malagasy wives and, on occasion, with a small child as well. The owner was at the bar chatting it up with a couple of his expat buddies, all in their fifties of early sixties, all very cozy. Judging by the quality of the food and service, he's not that concerned about the tourist trade.

Day 15 – Tamatave

We left out of the back gate of the compound for our walk on the beach. It took quite a bit of back and forth between these guards and the ones at the front gate before we were actually released. Fortunately, it was a cloudy day because, even though it's winter down here the sun is intense. As we leave the compound, we are confronted with miles and miles of beach. The surf is pounding and M says, dangerous. He's only known an experienced Australian surfer to venture out into its waters. Except for three young boys and their dog, we pass no one until we reach a rock jetty where fishermen are throwing their lines.

The jetty hides pipe carrying effluent that M says is mostly alkaline water with a little magnesium which he says is fairly harmless. Later, we will follow the road along the side of the compound where the pipeline extends.

We walk for over an hour on sand beside the surf seeing very little except a few scuttling crabs. Eventually, we arrive at a restaurant located just off the beach. Large umbrella like structures with roofs of rafia and four posts holding them up. Two have collapsed. We sit on the deck of the restaurant and order beers and water from the two boys in charge. K claims that with a little work and advertising, the place could become a going concern. I'm not so sure. Without the possibility of activity in the beach I'm not sure what you would do. Perhaps if there was a very good chef but if these boys are it, that wouldn't be the case. Mind you, the French fries we ordered weren't too bad.

By the time we got home, I felt that I'd had a little too much sun so I felt forced to take a mersandol which pretty much put me out of commission for the rest of the evening.

Day 14 - Mangerivola National Park to Tamatave

We headed to the park fairly early. We stopped first to see the crocodiles which might have been a bit of a mistake as it might have been better to see the Ingris first and then again, it might not have mattered at all. The crocodiles lounged in the water of a large pool, all of them very large and all completely docile as crocodiles tend to be. The only time I've seen otherwise was in Vietnam when the keeper who was cleaning the cage of some youngers only about two meters long, was purposely abusing them by hosing them with water and hitting them with his broom. The large crocs were separated from the smaller ones enclosed in another, smaller pool higher up probably because they'd make a meal of their younger cousins. Our guide fed a Parsons chameleon which is always entertaining and then showed us a fossa. This is an interesting mammal whose body is shaped like a weasel and its head like a cat. They are one of the only enemies of the lemurs and extremely shy except when it comes to chickens and its for this reason that their lives are in danger. It lived in two cages with an underground passage from one area to the other through which it was always passing. 

There was a bit of a drive to the Andasibe National Park where the indri are located. Right off the bat, we saw a bamboo lemur high up in the trees. A little further up the trail we began to hear the call of the indri, a spooky, hollow sound that can carry for up to two kilometres and it seemed to be coming from all aroun. We followed our guide off the path and, sure enough, when we were confronted with the presence of other tourists, we also saw the indri. M, the husband of K who we’re staying with describes their faces as that of yoda from Star Wars, a black faced yoda. Being high up in the trees we barely got a glimpse of them. Besides, their call, what also distinguishes these lemurs from others is their size, they're much larger, about size of a four year old. The trees sway when they jump from one to the other. Our guide got one that was seated in a tree just above our heads to start calling by playing their call on his cell phone and suddenly the forest was just ringing. They should package the sound. It's disturbing but also soothing.

The rest of the day was spent driving the rest of distance to Tamatave. It's disturbing to see the amount of land that's been slashed and burned and the level of poverty that the people are living in. Most live in huts made of wood sticks for the frame, weaved bamboo for the sides and dried rafia for the roof. (Rafia is a plant that grows close to the ground with large leaf like structures fanning from a stem that feels much like hard plastic to the touch.) The size of these houses wouldn't equal that of a small bedroom by western standards. Most stores carry very little in the way of manufactured merchandise (if any) and consist of the same material as the houses except without a fourth wall which is open to the street to display merchandise. A formal store that a person would enter is a rarity here.

We stopped in Brickaville for coffee. Romeo felt he needed one. Little wonder having to dodge pedestrians, pass tanker trucks, many headed to Ambatovy, the refinery that produces nickel on the coast. Ironically, despite it’s location right next to one of the country's biggest docks in Tamatave, all the oil that it uses must be shipped through Tana. I must admit to having been a bit alarmed at driving 80 kilometres or more through towns where people where the road had no shoulder and where it was usually lined with pedestrians and shops opened up no more than a couple of feet from the road’s edge.

While we were in one of the few restaurants we'd passed with the full complement of four walls, a group of boys hoisting cheap trophies and wearing relatively matching uniforms stopped at the front of the restaurant to show off their new hardware. Of course, they wanted some recognition from us of their new prize which K interpreted as free drinks. She bought them three cartons and I took their picture for posterity.

We didn't arrive in Tamatave until after dark which made driving through the towns particularly harrowing. From a distance, I thought that I'd seen the lights of the city but K had corrected me saying those were the lights from the plant. It's lit like many of the refineries we see in Edmonton however out here it provides a stark contrast to the darkness of the city surrounding it. First, we had to stop at the plant to pick up our ID badges. K was able to rouse the guard, a young Malagasy man who was eating his dinner. We were given forms, mostly filled out so all we had to do was sign it and receive our badges. Nicola was guest number 041 and I was 042. Ambatovy is a conglomerate made up of a number of companies of which Sherritt, for whom M works, owns 41%. It started in 2012 and started producing in 2014. M has been here for three years. The process starts here and involves processing in Cuba and Fort Saskatchewan according to the Sherritt website.

From the plant, we turned north toward the beach and drove beside a metal fence topped with razor wire. This is the operations camp for workers who come to work in Madagascar for six weeks and then return home for two. We then drive over a canal that extends along most of the western coast of Madagascar. It was built by the French and used for the transportation of goods. Unfortunately, it's not in a condition to be used to be used to transport heavy goods however It is used for movement by the local people and fishermen.

At the end of the canal is a 12 foot cement wall topped with both electric and razor wire. This is where the residents such as K and M live. It looks just like a prison with lookout towers on all four corners and two large gates, one on either side of the compound. This is the operations camp. This Is for workers who come in for six weeks and return home for two. At the south gate, guards take our badges and scan them in an office. Then Romeo gets out of the truck and removes his luggage leaving it by the guardhouse at the gate. Then, the gate opens and we drive through into the world of “Leave it to Beaver,” with single story bungalows and front lawns and a large park in front. There are no other streets, just one large loop so that it gives the illusion of size most of the bungalows are duplexes however there are a few separate homes for those individuals who have brought their families. Streetlights shine dimly from above.

Their duplex includes a great room that includes kitchen, dining room and living room plus two bedrooms and a four piece bathroom with a washer and drier inside. M was in the kitchen when we arrived. Being late, he'd eaten dinner but suggested that we go to the local bar. So, we dropped our stuff and went out for a walk on the compound. Steel shutters curtained all the windows on the community complex so I assumed the place was closed however M tried the door anyway. We were later to learn that the shutters are always down in the community centre as they are on most of the houses. M shut his when we got back to the house. It reminded me of one of those drug houses you see in the movies except it looks normal, Mayberry like, without the shutters.

We continued on our walk around the park past the school, the swimming pool, tennis courts and all the houses, about 20 in all. When we got back, M heated up some minestrone soup and poured some wine. He explained that security had been improved after a break in where a 54 inch colour television had been stolen among other items. It seems unlikely they could have hauled a device of such size over the wall so the guards were also considered suspect. A new company was hired to provide security and razor wire was added to the electric wire along the top. They have observed very little reticence by the people when it comes to stealing. K told us the night before that the Malagasy believe that sometimes God will leave something you need on the road which is meant to be taken. She says that the people have provided some flexibility to that story by thinking that something could also be behind a wall. M says so he can't really trust any of the Malagasys and adds that it's exhausting.

Day 13 - Tana to Andasibe National Park

We decided to get up early to begin our trip to the rainforest in Andasibe National Park. At 6:45, we met Romeo, the driver and then went to the hotel Café for coffee and croissant or a raisin bun for me and a pain chocolat for Nicola. The pastries at the Hotel Colbert are fantastic if you're ever in Tana.On the way out of city, we saw man fresh vegetables such as carrots and tomatoes for sale along the edge of the road and along the bridge. Nicola and K chatted in the back and I fell asleep. When I awoke everything was green around me. The vegetation was getting more lush and tropical. We'd been driving for a couple of hours when K asked Romeo if we'd passed the chameleon park. He said yes, about 50 kilometres ago, not an insignificant distance with twisty road. Romeo wasn't sure what to do to which K replied, Let’s go back. And we did.

The chameleon park was pretty cool. I believe it's a private venture with different types and chameleons and snakes penned up in different cages. That said, these areas are huge in relation to the sizes of the chameleon. There's a door and we walk in. The largest chameleon we saw was the Parsons chameleon. The guide fed grasshoppers on the a stick to the animals to demonstrate their very quick, long and deadly tongue. (For some reason, the grasshopper just remained on the end of the stick.). It was very entertaining to watch. We also saw, the elephant chameleon which lives up to its name with big, flappy ears and a bit of a snout. The snakes were all smaller constrictor snakes because there are no poisonous ones in Madagascar.

We arrived at Vakona Forest Lodge in Andasibe National National Park at about 3:30. After lunch in a circular restaurant with floor to ceiling windows sitting in the middle of lake, we visited a smaller lemur park attached to the hotel. A number of lemurs were there to be fed, all living on an island accessible by kayak with a push from the guide. The lemurs are afraid of water even if it's only an easy jump away. A white ruffed lemur, about the size of a large cat, greeted us first sitting patiently on a railing close to where we exited from our kayaks. As we approached the diminutive creature, the brown lemurs arrived in a wave. The white ruffed lemur continued to sit patiently on the railing waiting for the pieces of banana he was offered. He also allowed me to pet the fur on his back which was incredibly soft. The brown lemurs, about the same size as the white ruffed mobbed us. They jumped onto our shoulders and head and ate the food offered to them from there. The bamboo lemur was the cutest being about the size of a large hamster with a delicate temperament that allowed it to gently take pieces of fresh bamboo picked from the grass and the size of a long blade. They were very sweet and a big favourite of K.

Following the feeding frenzy, we returned to the canoes, K and the guide In one and Nicola and me in the other. We wended our way down the stream seeing little but hearing some brown lemurs in the trees. Eventually we arrived at a landing where ten of fifteen ring tailed lemurs were there to greet us. They proceeded to climb onto the kayaks and claim the remaining bananas waiting for them.

The rain drizzled during the entire duration of our paddle but as we neared the docking area it really began to come down where we made a mad dash for the hotel.

I had the jumbo prawns that night which were more the size of regular lobster tail. They were delicious and as I was given four, also very filling. After dinner, we were offered the usual rum arranger which is rum that has been soaked in another fruit or spice. I had the pineapple which was very tasty. Nicola had the vanilla which was also good. By this time, we noticed that we had not only been one of the first customers to the restaurant that evening, we were also one of the last. Nevertheless the ladies had to look into the window of the shop upstairs at which point one of the hotel clerks arrived to open it up. Of course, purchases were made and off we went to bed to prepare for another early rise.

Day 12 - Tana

Nicola spent the morning trying to book a flight from Tamave back to Tana to catch our Air France flight back to Paris and then Amsterdam. The Internet in the hotel was patchy and Nicola got really cranky but then it worked and she was better.

We had quite an extensive conversation with Miguel (or whatever his name was) on the drive to our Colbert Hotel. Traffic was extremely heavy so we had lots of time. He told us that Madagascar's best year for tourism was in 2008 when they had 300,000 but after the coup that number dropped off. No wonder we'd seen hardly any foreigners or English speakers. He told us corruption was a real problem which I guess it is in almost all African countries.

Our hotel room was nice but also a bit run down. The television was ancient and the furniture was a bit scuffed up. The bathroom was located right next to the door and the sinks (yes there were two) and bathtub were on the opposite side of the room. I say all this because this is supposed to be the best hotel in the city.

We ventured out onto the streets after dropping off our luggage in search of L'Art Gallery. A problem arose when I couldn't find the address on Google maps. So we wandered the old neighbourhood we'd explore when we first arrived. I noticed in the window that we'd walked by many times before that they sold wood carvings. Hart had mentioned that if we were to bring anything back for him, he would like a wood carving. They had lots which was good. They also had lots of books, al looking very much like the books we'd seen in books shelves back I need the 1980s in communist China. Few had pictures on the covers and many were about topics that may be educational but not so entertaining. One book I picked up was about George Mendel.

We met K at about 6:30 in the Hotel Colbert and proceeded from there to the Sakamunga Restaurant. When we entered, there was only one other customer in the place, a French dude in his early 20s who proceeded to order a three course meal and a bottle of wine. The expectation at Malagasy restaurants at lunch and supper is that they will sell you an entre, a plat (main course) and a dessert plus drinks. So that's what we did. We each had a three course meal which for me included fois gras which I happily discovered was too rich for my taste. (I feared the goose whose liver he'd given to me was dealt with cruelly prior to his death.). The lapin or rabbit was very good as was the dessert of crème brule which Nicola and I both enjoyed.

K and Nicola were very happy to see one another. They caught up on what they'd been doing through the intervening years as well as their children and husbands. 

Day 11 - Tana

Tulear to AntananarivoWe walked the beach in the morning only to be harassed by a dude trying to sell us a trip on his boat which might have been nice. The problem was that we really had to leave for the airport at noon if we were to catch our plane.

Nicola had commented on hearing the loud roar of surf the previous evening and I had to admit to hearing or as well. This morning we could see it breaking to the west at what I would have to guess was about a kilometer away, less as you moved south. Unique Malagasy boats fished the reef and inside. Young women tried to sell us much, much nicer versions of the shells we were attempting to find along the seashore. Nicola did find couple of sad looking ones she's hoping to revive. We were somewhat sorry to leave this empty, somewhat idyllic resort almost as soon as we arrived.

To our relief, Flavian drove much slowly on the road back to Tulear than he did on the way out. We past sad looking huts behind self contained compounds made with the same sticks as the houses. Except for small parts of Cambodia we have never seen poverty the like.

The airport was an interesting experience. There were birders present at the ready with their binoculars. Stadium seating is new. We had no assigned seating. Security at the airport included a quick search of our bags and questions such as are you carrying any sharp objects. There was no metal detector and no pat down before we got on the plane. Any one of us could have been carrying a small arsenal and no one at that airport would have known.

Nicola was impressed with the Toyota Land cruiser that took us from the airport to the hotel. Our driver was also very nice. The hotel? Well it was okay which would describe pretty well any of the top rated hotels in Madagascar. Roomy with fairly decent furniture, cold and a little run down.

Day 10 - Trip to Tulear and beach

We pass through Ilakaka which is known for sapphire. People were mining for it in the river as we pass In the car. Many, many men were hanging out on the main street. Lots of cars (which is unusual) and gem shops. We're stopped at two check stops on the way out off town. One manned by the army, the other by the police.
We pass through a few towns known for their sapphire with more gem shops and cars. Then we pass a village where they make rum in big barrels from sugar cane grown in the field nearby.
We see our first baobab trees. They're immense. It's too bad the baobab avenue is so difficult to get to. The terrain is very dry as we near the coast and the people are very poor living in only small wooden shacks not more than 10 feet square with grass thatched roofs. Children push canisters of water up the hill and carry bundles of wood just like their parents.
We stopped at the Auberge de la Table for lunch and a tour of their gardens. We learned that baobab tree living in the garden no more than 12 feet tall is over 100 years old and that they can live to be over 1000 years of age. The ones along the road we'd passed our guide tells us must be between 500 and 600 years of age. Like the baobab, many of the plants he shows us have hollow centres in which they can store water. The “elephant trunk” tree is similar in appearance to the baobab except that it grows a little faster and has even fewer branches at th top. Our guide also shows us a mouse lemur that he says he didn't show the Italians because they were too loud and he was afraid they'd frighten this nocturnal creature. He showed very little unrest in us except to open his eyes and look down while Nicola frantically tried to take his picture.
Tulear is located along the coast and is the capital of the region. There was very little to distinguish it from the other towns we passed through except that it seemed poorer. Privately owned public transportation is provided by minibuses and converted trucks with seats and a canvas top attached to the truck bed congregate in one area of town where we watch the passengers get on and off. Where the “shops” in Tana and Antsirabe have solid wooden sides and a tin roof, these are made of sticks with a thatched roof and sell even less than their less than affluent counterparts. Tomatoes, some fruit, second hand clothing, lubricants and other car repair items. The drive along the coast to our hotel was scary with Flavian passing everything in the road. The road is made of sand and he claims that he was afraid of sinking into it but there was only one place that was obviously a danger as another vehicle was stuck there. He didn't bother to stop so that we could help push the poor guys out.
Our hotel has a lovely lobby where we were given fresh fruit drinks as a welcome. The beam supporting the greater structure of the building still retains the essence of the tree trunk and two forking branches. Photos on the way to the washroom show various stages of construction. Our room is attached to the drivers’ and servant quarters and we could hear them like they were in the room with us as only grass separates the top of the wall and pitched roof. They did go to sleep fairly early however we were woken the next day with a taped English lesson that goes through various scenarios such as ordering in a restaurant and the exchange of pleasantries on the street. It was turned off when the lesson on banking began.

Day 9 - Isalo National Park

We began our hike in Isalo National Park with our guide Toussant asking if we could see anything unusual about a bush without leaves. With much searching I do spot two tiny little eyes and a needle thin beak, a stick insect almost perfectly camouflaged in the bush.

Toussant tells us about the Baru people who inhabit the area. He talks again about the cattle stealing requirement for marriage. He says that it can be quite organized with Baru men rustling as many as 80 cattle at a time. With the requisite paper work already prepared, they will load the cattle onto a truck where he says they cannot be interfered with. He says lately guns have been involved whereas in the past it was only spears.
He also tells us about the slash and burn form of agriculture practiced by the people. He says that they believe burning makes the land more fertile because the grass comes in green. There has been a problem with fires spreading into the national park. Without wildfire equipment there is little that can be done when this occurs.
He showed is piles of stones in the side of a cliff. This is where a body has been left. He says that the dead are put in these places right away and then, after the flesh had rotted and only bones remain, they are washed wrapped, placed on a casket and then interned in the side of a cliff higher up where they're likely to be bothered and can thereby act as an intermediary between the living and the higher spirit. He showed us a child's casket painted white for purity and black for the grief his death brought to the family. There was also a set of wheels beside the casket to symbolize the comfort the family wishes the child to experience on the afterlife, the wheels signifying the luxury of owning an automobile.

Not far from here we stopped ring tail lemur. They'd already been bothered by tourists who'd preceeded us and so ran away not long after we arrived. We stopped for a swim at a pool with a little waterfall. They call this area the puisine. Despite the hit dry weather experienced by l in the area the water was cool and refreshing. A few ring tailed lemurs were hanging around Toussant says hoping to pick up food or banana peels left by the tourists. He said that during the dry season there aren't many leaves left for them to eat.

Then it was a long walk over what Toussant called the valley of fire. Fortunately a cool breeze blew in our faces so the trek really did not live up to its name. Heat did become a factor when we entered the canyon of our destination and began the long trek down to the bottom. We caught up to an older couple with their guide. (Everyone has a guide as it's mandatory in the park.) She was suffering from heat exhaustion. I'm not sure how she got down but we did see her husband making the trek up the canyon.

We drank a couple of cokes in the cool of the shade by the stream at the bottom of the canyon. We were entertained by the antics of the brown red fronted lemurs and a white sifaka lemur also called the dancing lemur because can't walk on he l his four legs. He must hop on his hind two which makes him look like he's dancing. This was a solitary male being rejected by the male of a nearby group. He posed very nicely in a tree while a couple of red breastfed lemurs attempted to steal food from people eating lunch right next to us.
The walk up the canyon was quite cool and beautiful and arduous. There were many steps up and down many cut into the rock as the path followed the steam up a pool. Lush green vegetation surrounded the stream and the sun rarely reached the bottom of the canyon.

I stripped down to my underwear for a swim at the end of the trail. A waterfall fed the pool and I'd watched a girl who'd surreptitiously changed into her swim suit don her swim goggle and swim across the pool to tread water under the falls.

The water was painfully cold. I could barely bring myself to swim as far as the falls. No wonder the girls hubby or boyfriend had only swum a couple of strokes after jumping in.

For the remainder of the afternoon and evening we hung out in our beautiful hotel enjoying the view and the cool of the late afternoon and evening. Later that night we gazed at the most amazing display of stars with the milky way easily visible. We were also able to identify the southern cross. Not exactly a trick as I was pretty sure I could identify it before checking on my phone.

Day 8 – Trip to Ramonira

We were 15 minutes late for our pick up to leave as usual. Got going at 7:45. First passed through Fianarantsoa at 9:30. Grimy small city in the middle of nowhere. There are many, many people on the street. Women in shiny dresses and blouses are on their way to church. At least that's what we assume. Older men also wear their Sunday best, some with dress pants,a jacket and Fedora. The Bara people live here.
Nicola's found the drive quite beautiful with all the terraced fields. The Bara are known for their skill at growing rice. Their favorite method of moving materials is by a cart that has a steering wheel at the back. It's also pushed from the back and has no sides. The people jump on and take a ride when going down hill.
We go over bare hills, pass through a few towns. Even on some of the loneliest stretches of road we see pedestrians walking along the side often carrying something, a shovel, charcoal,or a plastic fiber sack that usually weighs a lot. Women will carry loads on their head and a guy will carry his load on the back of his shoulders.
We stopped at Anja park where we saw the ring tail lemur or cat cat as our guide liked to call them I suppose because of their resemblance to cats. He also pointed out crocodiles in the lake and a couple of chameleons.
We pass more pedestrians. Interestingly we've never seen a hitch hiker. And just after I write that a young man in an Iroquois cut tries to flag us down and Flavian flashes him the peace sign.
The larger two and three room houses with metal roofs give way to one room clay huts with thatched roofs.
We travel through the town of Ihosy which is the capital of the Baru people a name thought to have originated from the African Bantu. Flavian now tells us that they are known for herding cattle. Young men are considered worthy of marriage only after they have stolen a cow. The taxis here have upgraded from the pousse pousse (rickshaws) to tuk tuks.
Over the pass separating west from east, we follow a plateau with miles and miles of grassland. Flavian says that the people plant grass in certain areas for the Zebu and sometimes they'll burn areas to make the grass grow greener. The agricultural potential for grain in the area must be tremendous but in this country, the zebu reigns supreme.
Our hotel is nothing short of amazing. The craftsmanship is of the highest quality. Each of the posts on the main buildings has been intricately carved. The stone work around the outside is set in patterns as is the marble and woodwork on the floor. There's a large compound with buildings forming a half circle around the main building with a large swimming pool and grassed area in the centre. Our room features a sitting area, queen sized bed with mosquito netting (not necessary) and the most modern of bathrooms with double sinks and huge shower area. I say this because it is such an amazing contrast to the poverty through which we've just passed. Honestly, it can't be justified. It's just a given.
We decided on drinks before dinner and ordered the local flavoured rum. To our surprise we received half a tumbler full and were pretty hammered before moving over to the dining room. Dinner equalled the surroundings. Nicola won the selection with a wonderfully marinated wild bore.

Day 7 Ranomafana

Bit of a rough night. We were a bit late getting on the road. Angelo told us that the lemurs were most active in the morning. At the start of the walk, he asked us if we were more interested in plants or lemurs. A no brainer as far as I was concerned. Actually, Nicola didn't put a lot of thought into it either. We followed a number of trails each beginning with a letter and followed by another letter or number. We spent a lot of time on “C”. The trails are very steep and a little hard on the old joints if I don't say so myself. Pretty much a whole bunch of up and down.
Our first sighting was the bamboo lemur. He was very cooperative, quietly eating his banana while tourists swarm around him trying to take his picture. His friend was demurely hiding behind a tree. The other lemurs were not so cooperative and could only be viewed from a fairly long distance. That was the case with the golden bamboo lemur which was first identified in 1989 and the initial ready for the creation of the park. They huddle in the high branches, taking a rest Angelo says. The male would occasionally turn his head to look at us. Our third sighting was the brown, red fronted lemur. He didn't eat the bamboo which I forgot to mention contains cyanide. We were told it either doesn't affect them or they shit it out. The last lemurs were miles up in the tree, all huddled together in a wholly mass. So their name, the wooly lemur.
We called it quits at about 1:00 and started to head back, a short cut which was very steep and another reminder of our age. .
We did a little walk around town after. Some sort of festival was taking place as there was a very primitive looking merry go round that the kids had to be very patient waiting for it to start. Howver when it did het going it really got going. Not quite like the swings on Copenhagen or the ferris wheel in Guatemala but those kids were getting a bit of a thrill.
The thing about these villages or towns (I never know what to call them) is that there is not a single product that has been bought out of the immediate area for resale. Nicola wondered what these chilli pepper looking items were. She was told they were banana seeds and the young woman broke open one for her to try. But attempt to buy a coke or Pepsi and that's not going to happen. People live in very basic accommodation made of bricks made locally with no glass in the windows and rarely a chimney even though most use charcoal to heat with.

Day 6 - Ranomafana

Flavian pointed out some of the factories as we passed, the soap factory, milk factory, tobacco factory and the cement factory to add to the brewery that we passed yesterday.
Favian showed the car as we passed a celebration of the ancestors. Three bodies had been removed from the grave and were being paraded down the street to the accompaniment of music and dancing. We passed a number of these ancestral houses yesterday, all well constructed with brick or cement blocks and all featuring a cross on the top. How they resolve the dissonance between ancestral worship and Christianity I'm not sure.
House are made of brick not wood like the old days. John told us that wood meant life and stone, death so you didn't want your house made of stone. Stone is what's used for the tomb houses. That said almost every house we've seen on this trip has been made odd brick.
We passed a couple of fat where the bones of the ancestors are removed from the grave, rewrapped in a fresh shroud inand returned to the grave. At the same time celebrations take place and depending on the wealth of the family, these festivities can go on for a week.
Plow the fields with zebu and pound out some of the chunks with a sledge hammer.
Flavian tells me that 90% of malagasies cook with charcoal.
Bought a bunch of carvings at Ambrosia. Kind of went crazy. There were a number of tall skinny ones standing together of various heights. Without exaggerating, I must have knocked over about 50. As one tumbled, it knocked over another and so on and so forth.
Except for a lunch stop just after buying the wood carvings we drove straight through to about 4:30. A long time. Lunch featured more folk dancers performing for a bunch of gringos. (Sorry, wrong country.) We traveled through miles and miles of denuded landscape that had one featured virgin forest. Now it's restricted to a few national parks. Our guide for the next day ups us that they had to pay part of our entrance fees to the tribe who would otherwise have engaged in slush and burn if it wasn't there.
We passed through town after town exibiting various levels of extreme poverty. As we were going through one of these villages or nostrils were assaulted with a very sweet smell. Our driver said that the people were burning begonia flowers from which they extract the oil and sell it to the French. We stopped at a small farm where this was taking place and the driver held up some leaves to our noses. Same smell that had accosted us on the road. A huge drum was being used to heat the leaves and petals. I hope the French are paying them a decent price but from the look of their home it doesn't look like.
We met or guide as soon as we arrived in Ranomafana, the location of the national park. His name was something like Angelo but we were nor quite sure. He's quite a short guy with a wife and three kids, the oldest one being 14. Their names were Angela, Angelique and the boy’s name was Angelmo. We were to go on a night tour right away. We drove up the road a ways where there were lots of other "whites" looking into the trees at the side of the road guided by the light of their guide's flashlight beam. Our first sighting was a snub nosed chameleon, just a little longer than your thumb nail and a green that perfectly matched the leaf it lay on. Th we crossed the road to see a mouse lemur, hiding in the trees and darting back and forth as it tried to avoid the flash light beams and the flashes from the cameras. Over the next hour and a half, we would see a O’Shaunnessey’s chameleon, perhaps the one that most resembles our stereotypical perception of what a chameleon should look like. We also saw the sidestriped chameleon, a blue lipped frog and one other frog.
Then, it was back to our hotel where I had the shrimp and Nicola had the duck which in the big picture of things wouldn't matter in the least if I hadn't suffered from food poisoning for the rest of the night. I believe it's called Mally Belly which is more prominent here that any other country since Nepal.

Day 5 - Antsirabe

Nicola had a bit of a rough night. She thinks it was something she ate but I'm not so sure. The soap I was using in the shower was shaped like madagascar which reminded me of something John told us about the poinsettia. He said it represented his country because if you fold it in half it resembles the shape and it has all the colors, red, green, and white.

The landscape is brown and terraced as we head toward Lake Tritriva. Fabian tells us that in summer, everything is green with rice and maize Trivinia other stuff. We see carts with wooden spokes and metal wrapped around the top of the wheel circa 1850s. It's strange to see the contrast with motor vehicles. Almost no one in this rural area owns shoes. Everyone goes barefoot or has rubber flip flops.

It was a continual climb to Lake Tritriva which we were to learn is created by springs from a dormant volcano. Impossible to exploit for agricultural purposes, the sides are covered with pines and have the appearance of a natural park. We were immediately accosted by local children upon leaving the security of the van. They had rocks and petrified mollusks for sale. They followed us down and part of the distance up before really letting us know what they want. We had to pay 10000 airiaries to each of them for a stone from their basket. That would be 5 from Nicola abs three from me. The problem was that we just didn't need that many rocks and so the drama began. We decided never to purchase from locals on the street again.

That said, one of the younger girls I'm guessing about 10, had very good English as well as being able to speak French and Malagasy. She pointed or a rock where the people make sacrifices and also a place on the cliff where the Norwegians jumped into the lake about 20 meters up. In lit younger days I would have been very tempted.
We made a little walk into the downtown area after our driver dropped up off. The second floor of the café where we enjoyed a large 3 horse bet 2 afforded an excellent of people on the street where we watched lots of pousse pousse guts running by with their passengers. Nicola wondered if they ever had problems with their feet.

A group of 14 french tourists shared the dining room in the hotel with us tonight. Being elderly Nicola thought them a little different from their North American counter parts considering some of the difficult conditions that must be endured in this country.

Day 4 - Antsirabe

Constant movement of people. Two lane roads with barely enough room for cats b let alone the constant stream of people. The driver, Flavian locks the doors. Butchers, cell phone time, bicycle repair, maintenance crews, bakery, cheese store, coffee counter, fruit store, biscuit shop, lubricant store, car repair, car seat repair.
Passed many houses that appeared to have been made with red clay. Rice fields. Fields of strawberries. . Nicola bought a basket of sisal from a road side stall. She paid 5000 ariary or about two dollars Canadian.

Stopped at a recycling aluminum factory that uses dirt molds to make pots and tourist souvenir items. Don't know how the men don't get burned swinging around red hot pots full of molten aluminum. My camera covered in silver dust when we left.

Passed grave sites which or driver called family home. Doesn't take much looking to see that family homes are everywhere.

Passed stands with instruments like the drum, banjo, violin that he says are used for celebrations such as circumcision which every male Malagasy must go through from the ages 3 to 5. The grandfather must eat the fore skin.

Passed some stands selling wooden toy trucks. Quite realistic looking and beautifully painted
As we climb higher we pas landscape that is densely terraced.

Granite rocks have been pulled from the river for decoration in the garden. In between rice crops they grow carrots and potatoes, cabbage and lettuce which were all beautifully put on display at the side of the road.
Pine and eucalyptus have been planted for the purposes of reforestation. Nicola says that some of the people had cut into the pines and collecting the sap at the base of the tree.

Through the morning we kept climbing higher and with the climb an ever increasing density of pine.
Passed children filling portholes with red clay, one with cap in hand expecting a tip in return for their hard work. Our driver didn't oblige. The portholes began appearing with ever increasing seriousness and frequency.
Many cars were stopped along the road by the police and army but never us. Our driver said they were looking for papers.

Hotel has a courtyard with a pool and garden. It's a great sanctuary from the hustle and bustle and harassment of the city.

Flavian took us to a place that sold precious and semi precious stones. Nicola would like to replace the stone in her engagement ring but this was not the place to do it. We eventually bought a couple of gifts for the girls.
Fabian dropped us of on Independence Avenue next to the statue in commemoration of the 18 tribes. We were immediate assaulted by young women with babies asking for money to feed them. It was so overpowering that we made a retreat into the most modern looking grocery store we've yet seen in this country. Nicola says that it's part of a South African chain. Inside we searched out flavored rums for which this country is supposed to be known for. We eventually bought a sofa drink and ventured back into the unknowns.

Eventually the young women left us alone and we were able to do some souvenir shipping and go for a beer in a cafe recommended by the book. It was completely empty. In fact we only see fellow tourists and travellers in the hotels and high end restaurants which is where we saw them again tonight at the coulour café. However not a single other English speaker.

Nicola was as sick as a dog and ordered only the soup which I ate instead If my salad because, watching her brought back recollections of the big salad in Nepal that gave me dysentery.

She had a terrible night.

Day 3 Tana

This morning began with the cheese omelet and then it was off for our day tour of Tana. Our guide called himself John and the driver was Des, neither was their real name. Throughout the day, Des would have to navigate his way through traffic and pedestrians and around potholes. Our first stop was the railway station which is no longer used for passengers but nicely restored to sell handicrafts. We looked at some hats and soap but did not buy.

John tells us that there are 2.5 million people living in the city and 2 million just outside. Flavian, the driver for the following day would say it's one million in Tana and one million surrounding. Suffice it to say, it's a lot of people.
The Blue Hill was the residence for the great king who united madagascar. This was not so long ago back in 1808. Then there was his son King Radama 1, then queen ranabalona who killed a bunch of Christians some by throwing them off a cliff. She had some french dude as her consort who brought some western stuff to madagascar like a huge industrial complex that used slave labor to produce guns, bricks, tiles, pottery, glass, silk, and soap. He was so successful that the queen kicked out all the foreigners and then she kicked or him. Then there were three queens who married the same guy, one after the other. He was prime minister all through their reign and carried the real power. His body isn't up there but the rest are.

We first had to climb a hill to get up to it so that we could see a couple of the 14 gates that lead up to the castle/palace/residence. There might have been a wall but none was visible. The gate is a crude arch made of stone with a giant round stone that is rolled in front to prevent entrance.

The kings house John described as an upside down boat to symbolize the boats his people are believed to have arrived on. (Nicola is sceptcle of the truth of this.) First we had to enter the residence right foot first. The structure is very basic with one platform for the kings bed, four granite stools around what's supposed to be a fire pit and a platform about 10 feet above the ground well below a peeked roof that must have been about 20 feet high.
Each of the corners was supposed to represent the different elements but I can't remember which is which. There's air in the southeast because that's the prevailing wind, fire where the fire pit is located I believe in the northwest where the window was located, water and earth. About the second two we're not sure. 

While the queen would entertain guests around the communal fire, the king would listen from the rafters to the conversation. If he felt the guests were worthy of more of his attention, he would throw pebbles down at the queen.

Next to the house were two tiny houses where the kings and queens were buried,"seven feet under ground" John told us. From there we walked up to the to which afforded us terrific views of the valley and the many many hills beyond. John pointed out a few of the sacred 12 which excited him but meant nothing to us.

Then we enjoyed a barely edible lunch along with some folk dancing which was entertaining and interesting. Two men and four women who sounded much like the South Africans from the Paul Simons album.

the drive back into the city was as slow and laborious as the way out. Again we saw everything for sale at the side of the road and tons of traffic plus the many pedestrians.

The queen's palace is located on a hill overlook the city. Unfortunately it burned down in 1995. Nothing is left except the outer structure which UNESCO gave them 25 million to rebuild and then promptly took away after the coup of 2009. John told us that the houses built close by made up their Pentagon because they're all owned by generals.

For supper we went to Kudeta where I had duck with foie gras which I'm ashamed to say was amazing considering the animal cruelty that goes onto making it.

Day 2 Antanrivo or Tana for short (the capital)

We had some difficulty getting up this morning. I was particularly overtired. Breakfast was good, omelet, freshly squeezed juice, coffee, and French bread. Then it was out onto the streets of Tana which was kind of scary I gotta say. Young men just standing on the side of the road with seemingly nothing to do, and many, many people. Our neighborhood is actually good but in the big picture, not so much. Like I said, to many young men standing around with nothing to do. The buildings, except for a few are generally run down. The difference being that they are buildings. In much of Tana there are just shacks like the ones we saw on the way in from the airport. Only 24% of homes have running water. Most people carry their water in big yellow and orange containers from public taps they pay to use. Nicola found most depressing the people selling used clothing, stuff people in Canada wouldn't dream of wearing.

Our first job was to find an ATM. The girl at the desk told us to turn left and walk for 80 metres which we did. After backtracking once we decided that her idea of 80 meters was different from ours. More like half a kilometer. The streets were narrow with cars lined on both sides leaving less than a body width of room for pedestrian travel and a mish mash of stores. Nevertheless, perseverance won out and with the gods acting in our favour the ATM we found took our Alberta treasury branch card.

Then it was off exploring. We thought we would do the guide book's tour which suggests we start at the Select Hotel. It is a hole with outdated and run down 70s style architecture. But across the street was a cute little shop that sold objects made out of recycled aluminum. I not bought a bicycle and we bought a cute little gift for Elizabeth.

We took the stairway up to the gardens. It is wide and made of brick and cement and market. At the bottom of the stairs were the rubber stamp sellers. Nicola was curious and raised the hope of a couple of salesmen. She thought it might be cute to stamp a lemur on gifts and cards at Christmas. There were also tables with sun glasses and regular glasses for sale, and second hand clothing among other stuff with each type of product grouped with others of the same not unlike western does would do in a city.
We confirmed the location of the gardens with its proximity to the information office. Otherwise I would have mistaken it for a very modest looking park, about 50 metres squared with grass and a few trees. Here we managed a few stares but we're generally left alone.

From here, we retreated to the pastry and coffee shop in the Colbert Hotel by the presidential palace. The only other customers were expats on business or part of an embassy. In fact, this is the first country we've been to for a while where the colour of your skin will grant you entry into exclusive hotels. A few years ago with the kids, we'd tried to have a drink in the Oriental Hotel in Bangkok and been turned away at the gate because we'd been identified as back packers. Not so here and a good thing because nor only had we escaped the crowds but the chocolate mousse and fruit tart were amazing, particularly the chocolate mousse. The coffee was definitely the stuff to keep you awake.

Nicola had a guard blow his whistle at her when she attempted to cross the parking lot for a better picture of the palace. In fact there were very few people in this block where the national bank was located and a number of ministry buildings.

The crowds reappeared as soon as we left the area but as we approached the area of our hotel we discovered what had intimidated us earlier was the most upscale area of the city.

Dinner was wonderful at Chez Sucette. Included with the expats as customers in this restaurant were back packers and tourists. Here we were served some excellent french cuisine, just what you'd expect in Madagascar

Flight to Antananarivo

We discovered, after checking in in Amsterdam, that we were priority customers. As a result, it took about 20 minutes to check our luggage and get through security at Schipol Airport and considerably longer at Charles de Gaulle because, after all, the French will be French. Then, it was onto a big wide body Airbus jet to Antananarivo, or Tana for short. We were in the section behind first class and in front of economy.  There was a curtain behind us.  We were in economy premium which has two fewer seats per row, large televisions on the back of each seat, foot rests, cloth pillows without the shitty paper cover and noise reduction headphones. Oh yes, we also had a window seat with excellent views of the Aegean coast line and Sahara Desert.

And then, at 11:10 p.m., we arrived. Of course, we were among the first off the plane and squeezed onto the one bus available to take us to the gate. The immigration area included four booths for the officers, three of them filled.  The lady who took the entrance paper I'd filled out barely looked at my passport.  In fact, not long enough to tell me that I needed a visa. We followed the throng to another larger booth filled with three visa officers.  A fourth sat on a counter just outside the booth.  Our passports were taken, scanned into a computer stamped with writing that covered an entire page and signed by the guy sitting on the counter.

We picked up our luggage off an old style conveyer belt, the kind that most people won't ever have seen.  The belt comes in from the outside, proceeds along a wall and then turns back behind the wall.  Obviously, they get very little traffic through this airport in a day.  And yes, For the first time in three trips, my bag did not get lost, perhaps because it was given a priority sticker.

A youngish woman was selling phones and SIM cards just inside the immigration area. I was given a price of 30 euros for 5 gigs of data and then another 20 for an hour of calling time anywhere in the world.  Not wanting to complicate matters, we took what she suggested.  When she went to change the SIM card in my phone, we discovered that it needed a number to  unlock it.  Now where had I put that?  Not in the notebook I'd purchased for the trip.  I was pretty sure telus had emailed me the number so I had to change back to the old SIM card to access the phone.  Then I discovered it wasn't in with the emails.  After considerable consternation on my part and concern on Nicola's, I remembered that I'd been texted the number. Out with the old card, in with the new and voila, it worked.  Now, it was 12:50.

We passed through the doors that separate us from the rest of Tana and were greeted by hundreds of dark faces, looking at us beseechingly, like we might require some service of them that would involve payment.  Lucky for a few, we did, because among the 20 or so signs held up to us, not one had Nicola or Ramsey on it.  A particularly aggressive young man in a yellow vest insisted on taking my cart which I allowed him to do with the proviso that he would direct us to an ATM. The first was just for VISA, the second would only take Nicola's Royal Bank card.  We decided to phone the hotel because, after all, we had a working phone.  The lady seemed to indicate that getting a driver to us would be very difficult so I suggested we take a taxi.  She seemed quite excited about this so I asked her how much it would cost.  She said between 50 and 60,000, Aviarys, 23 Canadian. Amongst our entourage was a middle aged guy wearing a red vest with taxi emblazoned across it.  He only needed to hear the mention of a taxi and he was all over that.  "60,000," he said.  "Alright," I replied. With that we left the airport to a very empty parking lot and four small taxis parked close by.  We squeezed into the back and were off.

One street light greeted us on our departure and that was about it.  We drove through darkness past tin shelters, some with signs painted on the outside, none with as light on and not a soul in sight.  It was really pretty spooky. We passed a larger building with a neon sign advertising construction and then a bar with a few patrons.  When our taxi started climb a hill, we knew we were almost there.

Our hotel is a converted, many storied colonial style home.  We're on the lower level with a patio, two chairs, and a divan.  Very nice.