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Published: June 13th 2008
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Taxi rank
Ever wondered where Europe's old cars go when their owners are finished with them Antananarivo 16 - 20 June 2008
Bang! I was wrenched from a blissful sleep by a sudden pain in my knee, which had slumped into the aisle and copped the full force of the air hostesses drinks cart. ‘So sorry!’ she exclaimed, blinking a hefty set of eyelashes at me. It could be worse, I thought. I could be working, rather than on a plane to Madagascar for 3 weeks. ‘Its okay,’ I squeaked.
I should have known it would be a challenging day when it took two hours to check in at Joburg airport, thanks to a downed computer system. We finally got through after changing check-in counters 8 times, and the plane left more or less on time, but the time we’d hoped to use for breakfast had been swallowed and the aircraft’s light refreshments did not compensate.
Touching down brought with it all the usual dramas, and though more than 6 months of travelling has taught us patience and to expect the unexpected, it does not ease the frustration on feels. Upon taking one step into the arrivals lounge we were met with a sign directing us to a desk where we should hand over US$90
for a visa (WTF?!). Grumbling, we joined the que and reached into our emergency stash (thank god for that), which left us with only $5 remaining. Feeling like we’d been upended and shaken as a welcoming present, we proceeded to the customs office, where no less than 6 people, all crammed into a two-man booth, checked our passports. Once Julie bluffed them about or departure ticket that we were ‘just about to pick up in town’, they issued us with permission to enter the country and let us go.
Next was a taxi into town. A guy with the nicest smile and smoothest tongue around convinced Julie that the ‘official’ price was 50,000 Ariary (AU$35) using his impressive laminated card, and we fell for it hook, line and sinker. He lead us to a taxi with a driver already in, and the two of them drove us into Tana centre ville, obviously planning to split the bill, which turned out to be double the going rate. So there we were, weighed down by our packs but feeling a lot lighter in the pockets, in the middle of the main street of the capital of Madagascar. First impressions of this
country: not good. And then it began. Ceaseless begging, hassling, jeering, staring. Nearing the end of the tourist industry’s ‘off-season’, desperation was driving the hacks, touts and street urchins to extreme measures. With no guide book in hand, we were sitting ducks. Within 50m I’d had my pockets searched by small, light hands (luckily they were already empty), and was ready to pack it in (or teach them a lesson) when we came across a bookshop and, for a small fortune, got ourselves the latest guidebook. The book told us all about the airport taxi scam and the beggars/pickpockets, and lead us to a good, cheap restaurant and finally a cheap hotel. Little did we realise, but our hotel doubled as a brothel, and we spent the night in what felt like the scene of a dodgy porn movie. Needless to say, our trusty silk bed liner was put to good use that night!
On our second day in Tana, we made a fresh start with breakfast in a boulangerie (awesome local coffee), followed by a stroll up the hill to the ‘haut ville’ overlooking the centre of town. Maybe it was just the effects of a restful night
and a nice breakfast, but the air was sweeter up there and the stresses of the previous day vanished, replaced by images of France from a bygone era. Cobblestone roads, ‘Dodoches’ taxis, terrace cafes and Gendarme police with flat-top caps. It was like a picture of Paris from the 60s, and we decided then and there to stay a few more days in the town.
The room we found was about twice our intended budget, but I couldn’t argue with Julie when she asked me what I thought with a look on her face that said ‘say yes or else!’. On the top floor of the Tana-Jacaranda Guesthouse, our room overlooked lower inner-city suburbs stretching to the hillside of the Royal Palace, which catches amazing late afternoon sunlight. We had an adjacent shared dining room and balcony and free wireless internet. Sweet.
With a comfortable place to base ourselves, we were free to spend a few days getting to know the city. We spend a morning at the fascinating zoological park, which contains not only Madagascars unique animals, but an amazing collection of endemic plants, particularly cactuses, palms and baobabs. You’d be forgiven for thinking you’re on another
Downtown Tana
Trains don't come through here much planet wandering the gardens of that place. Another interesting exhibit is the group of traditional huts, showcasing styles from different parts of the island, together with examples of traditional tombs and burial methods, each unique to a particular ethnic group.
This visit was followed by a trip to the city’s main marketplace. To get there we took an old ‘4L’ taxi and came to appreciate the pressure that high petrol prices are placing on drivers. Our driver would cut the engine at every opportunity, not only while stationary, but while going down-hill as well. The city’s most peaceful houses must surely be those on one-way roads going down hill. The market was crazy. There was barely room to squeeze between stalls. An army of hopeful security men greeted our taxi, hoping to win our business, but we waved them away and tightened our grip on our bags. I found a great straw hat for only $8, only to find out later that you can pick them up for less than $1. For lunch I tried a local specialty: Zebu tongue & vegie soup. The zebu is Madagascar’s equivalent of a cow, identified by an impressive set of horns and
Boy on the train lines
Slums have appeared where a transport system once ran a fatty lump between it’s shoulders. The meat itself was pleasantly flavoursome, but feeling the animals tastebuds against mine, well…I’ll leave it to your imagination.
This was, I must note, a poor introduction to Madagascan cuisine. Simple though it is compared to other countries on the Indian Ocean, it makes for some interesting dining experiences, and the high town area of Tana was a great place to experience it.
The only thing stopping us from leaving is trying to decide which direction. It all looks great, but you just can't do everything so south it is, on the one and only RN7. There's a story for tomorrow.
Dreaming of an adventure like ours? Find out how we did it at
JulieAndDariansWorldTourGuide.com
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