On first impression landing in Madagascar, is much like India; the first time I stepped foot outside the airplane. The heat is an instant reminder of no longer being at home. It was humid and hot. The flight landed in Antananarivo past midnight. We arrived and walked the tarmac into the airport. The air was filled with humid dew and the runway lights were spattered with varying size bugs. The flood of excitement and unknowingness had me restless and slightly fearful. As a shy person, it is not always easy to let people into my world. However being alone in a foreign country, I had no choice but to brave the experience I had set out before me. My friendly smile opened up a few doors. Before touching down I met two Quebecois who immediately took me under their wings. They kindly offered to have me join them in their taxi, seeing as our hotels were across from one another.
Antananarivo (“Tana”) like most big cities in developing countries has its issues, as a result of political instability the result of corruption and greed, the rate of crime is on the rise and the level of poverty increases. The confliction altered my feelings: my dreamt paradise was becoming more of a nightmare. However having some sense of perspective, I decided that perhaps as a conclusion of a somewhat aristocratic entitlement most travelers (several I met my first days) could not relate to the marginalizing of a country in the middle of great change. Like everywhere else in the world, internet, media and tourism has created an imbalance of the real culture, outward appearance and expectation. What I do know as a result of past travels is that if you are fearful, disturbed, and unhappy in your current placement, experience or environment – you change your locale. This is exactly what I did. The following morning, my Quebecois companions (Guy and Michel) and I set out with our guide Papula (the “pirate”) by mini bus, westwards to Miandavasio, where we spent the night in the pirate’s hotel.
Away from the hectic, scary, rather unwelcoming capital, Madagascar is an amazing place. Travelling through the countryside changes one’s entire understanding and appreciation. We started the day in a full hot, humid sun – but within a couple hours the sky closed down and the torrential rains surrounded us for most of the remaining 8-hour drive. Somehow looking out at the hillsides with cultivated rice paddies, bamboos and of course the spattering of palms reminded me of the typical images of Vietnam; the one I long to see. Yet in Madagascar, added to the splendorous green, is the astonishing red earth, which in its variety seems to offset the greenery in a striking way. The redness (light to dark brick) reminded me of my Cambodian adventure of 2002. As we drove, I felt that this jaunt across oceans and continents was the best thing I could do for myself. As a warm calm washed over me, my fears and insecurities vanished into the hillsides and I remembered why I wanted out of my comfy box at home.
My second night in Tana, I decided on zebu for dinner. I ate grilled zebu in a typical green peppercorn sauce with a side of fries. It was tender and delicious. On my third day I ate zebu twice more, once for lunch and again for dinner. At lunch in a local Malgache truck stop, I had a sort of zebu stew served over rice. Although quite bland with the added chilies, the stew was edible enough. We headed out again on route. We arrived after 8 hours, just as the sun was setting and the rain clouds had lifted, into Miandrivazo. As we drove through the bends in the road, careful not to run over livestock and children meandering on the sides, my mind wandered back to previous travels and a smile streamed out for all to see. We arrived at La Pirogue, in time for dinner. We had a fantastic dinner, out on the veranda under the darkening of the night. My companions enjoyed the taste of Three Horse beer (THB); I indulged in three types of rum. Rum with added spice or fruits is the Malgache specialty. The rum in Madagascar is the type of beverage that quite literally knocks one out of their socks. I started with rum with essence of ginger, then vanilla and finally cinnamon. I waltzed my way back to my room for the night.
That night under the mosquito net I contemplated the voyage ahead. The following morning, we embarked on our boat cruise. Our pirate and his crew drove into the middle of town to pick up some provisions and find our boat. We arrived at the dock, surrounded by locals, some simply curious to see the tourists and others busy with their daily routines. Curiosity is the one word that clearly describes our adventure over the following few days, both from the Malgache standpoint and of ours: the tourists.
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