Blogs from Madagascar, Africa - page 20

I have to return to Tana in order to get transport to the last national park of my Madagascar visit and, despite being only ~400km from Fianar on the best road in the country, an eight hour journey time by taxi-brousse is considered exceptionally fast. The problem lies in the winding nature of R7, plus the fact that it's single-lane so slow-moving vehicles create hold-ups. One highly civilised aspect of taxi-brousse travel is that there are frequent loo breaks, often passenger-initiated. Our lunch stop gives me more French confusion - the waitress says they have no legumes but then admits, when prompted, that they do have haricots blancs. My taxi from the taxi-brousse station to the Hotel Niaouly is a 39 year old Renault 4, another awesome vehicle from the streets of 1970s Paris. Tana has ... read more

After my difficulties obtaining transport for the 6.5km between Ranomafana and Ranomafana National Park, it's a relief that it takes only 45 minutes to snare a taxi-brousse for the 30-odd km back to Fianar. During the journey I see many of the handcarts that seem popular here for moving produce - heavy on the uphills, they become luges for the downhills. At one stop I see a kid with a leaf on a stick. Running into the wind, the leaf twirls like a propeller, causing the child to gurgle with delight. Who needs a PS3? I arrive too late in Fianar to catch a further taxi-brousse with a sensible arrival time in Tana, so have to overnight. One feature of Fianar is that much more English is spoken here than in Tana - even the postcard-selling ... read more

I continue south from Fianar through another landscape of rice paddies and terraces, the former reflecting the fleecy clouds in the blue sky above. Ambalavao is only a short distance away and soon I'm settled into the most expensive room yet of my stay in Madagascar ($15), though it's arguably the most comfortable also. Inevitably my arrival pings on the radar of the resident English-speaking guide, but he respects my statement that I'm not looking to take a tour, and is happy to dispense information without expecting anything in return. Ambalavao is a small town of narrow streets, filled with the colonial architecture of balconies and shuttered windows. I've already seen that Madagascar has a good selection of arts and crafts of varying degrees of traditional authenticity, and one of the most famous is made in ... read more

After the chaos of our Tana departure, the trip to Antsirabe is fairly orderly. The road is in excellent condition and it's its constant meanderings around the hills of the Central Highlands that stretch out the journey time. Of course we have a totally unnecessary food break, but it's good to be reminded at times that I'm still in Africa. We pass numerous examples of terracing, as well as the curiously square buildings that speak of Asia rather than the circular affairs I've been used to seeing over the last few months. I spot adverts for Baby Foot, which I guess must be the local expression for foosball. I'm surprised by the number of cyclists on the road, given some of the gradients, but the tarmac's so good that going by bike must be an attractive ... read more

A four hour drive down a dusty and uneven road takes us to a river crossing that's five minutes from our camp. We squeeze nine into the car via the simple expedient of the guide sitting astride the gearstrick. The camp is the focal point of every white person I've seen since leaving Antsirabe, plus a few more. We have an entire afternoon to ourselves, during which I foolishly allow myself to be drawn into a game of poker with the two girls who live on Mayotte. It seems like they've spent many evenings on the island doing precisely this, and I'm cleaned out twice. They cruelly teach me the French phrase "King of Petrol", meaning someone with lots of money. We have a further game after dinner, with exactly the same result. The following morning ... read more