On August 4th, Mark and I took a plane from Accra to Nairobi, where we had a 16 hour layover. During our layover, we visited a giraffe sanctuary and explored the city a bit. We ate a fabulous meal at an Ethiopian restaurant that had been recommended to me by a friend. Nairobi doesn’t feel nearly as rough around the edges as Accra---there are sidewalks and parks, and sometimes you feel like you could be in a European city.
Nairobi Giraffe Sanctuary
Ethiopian food, mmm
2 a.m. on August 5th, we arrived in Madagascar. Although I had booked a room at a hotel near the airport, as well as airport pickup, no one was there to meet us. We ended up being overcharged for a taxi to take us 2 km to the hotel, and then banging on the locked gate until someone opened. Thankfully, there was one room left. Evidently there was some confusion about the date of our arrival.
We awoke the next morning in a French speaking country, and realized the communication issues that would thwart us throughout our journey. But for the time being, we enjoyed the benefits of colonialism and ordered a croissant, café, and ‘yaourt’ to start the day.
After breakfast, we took a cab across town to the southern bus station, where we booked our first taxi brousse (bus) ride to Morondava. At this point we really didn’t see any of the capital city, Antananarivo (Tana), except the massive new U.S. Embassy that sits on the edge of town.
first real meal in Madagascar---carrots as street food!
The buses in Madagascar are cramped, converted mini vans, that they pack with no less than 15 people, and often many more. The roofs of the buses are piled with luggage and skillfully tied down. Our bus to Morondava was scheduled to leave at 4pm, but as we would learn well during our trip, that schedule is only a very rough estimate.
rice fields near Tana (Antananarivo)
southern bus station in Tana
The curves heading out of Tana (Antananarivo) were terrible; an endless winding road, and my car sickness was intense. I threw up out the window within the first hour. This would be one of four times that I threw up in buses in Madagascar. In the middle of the night, we stopped at a typical Malagasy hotely (restaurant) and ate rice and broth (Mark also had chicken). 17 hours later, we arrived in Morondava, on the western coast.
Having endured such a long journey, we indulged in pizza (the first of many) and ice cream, and checked into our budget hotel. We asked around town (which is a hard thing to do when we don’t speak French or Malagasy), and discovered/confirmed that there is no public transportation going to the Tsingy de Bemaraha, our first major destination. So, we used an ATM to get wads of cash (the Malagasy Ariary is 2,300:1 US dollar) and booked a 4x4 SUV and driver (!!) to take us to the Tsingy.
The next morning we left early with our 4x4, but first we stopped at the bank because Mark’s Mastercard ATM card required dealing directly with the bank. Strangely, our driver left the engine running for almost an hour while we waited at the bank. This is what we call ‘foreshadowing.’
The road to the Tsingy took us 10 hours and it was very rough---so rough that I had to lie down in the back seat the entire time to lesson my intense motion sickness. We passed many iconic sights along the way, including the famous Avenue of Baobabs, and a massive twisted baobab. There were also two river crossings via ferryboat during which our driver kept the engine running (why?). We arrived at the Tsingy park at dusk, completely exhausted. We quickly set up the tent and sat down in a small, packed restaurant, and due to language restraints we were served a giant plate of beef and plain rice. Grrr. So, Mark indulged in several pounds of meat, and I ate plain rice.
first view of some baobobs
road to the Tsingy
beach in Morondava
the local women paint their faces for beauty purposes
road to the tsingy
first ferry crossing on the road to the Tsingy
scale shot
Avenue of Baobobs
on the road to the Tsingy
final river crossing to the Tsingy
The next morning we went to the parking lot (ready to hike!) to find our driver was unable to get the vehicle started (a surprise to us, but not to him, of course). Thankfully, he was able to have another vehicle pull him around the parking lot to get his car started. This became a familiar pattern. We were assigned a guide and paid our fees, and drove the 17 km to the Grand Tsingy, where we hiked and climbed around the Tsingy for the entire morning. It was spectacular, with caves and hanging bridges; we wore harnesses and clipped into safety ropes. It was great fun and almost made me forget about the 2 days of rough travel it had taken to get there.
first view of a lemur
the Tsingy used to be under water, so there are lots of coral fossils
nocturnal lemur that sleeps with its eyes open
climbing into the caves at the Tsingy
this is what the walls of the caves looked like
vine strangling a tree
more caves!
tent by the river at the Tsingy
The next morning, our vehicle was once again dragged by another SUV to get it started, and then we were back on the road, 10 hours back to Morondava. Everything was smooth until the second river crossing. Many 4x4s were crossing on different ferries at the same time (four cars to a ferry), and after a long, slow ferry ride we pulled up to the dock, with our vehicle positioned first. Behind us were four other ferries all docked together, 18 cars in all. The boatmen positioned the ramps, and I jumped off and ran into the bushes to ‘free myself’, as they would say in Ghana. Mark followed. We walked back to the dock just as our car and driver were coming down the metal ramp and starting up a very steep incline from the water. The car got halfway up the dirt incline and then slid backward, losing control and slid back onto the metal ramps, and then the back tires fell off into the water. And the engine died. From the shore, Mark and I watched as dozens of European tourists gathered to see what had occurred. Their cars were all stuck behind our car, and our driver and all the boatmen began trying to jack up our 4x4 and get it back on the ramp. Our cameras were still in the vehicle, so we have no photos of this ridiculous occurrence, but every other tourist was snapping hundreds of photos, so I’m certain there are photos of our vehicle somewhere on the internet. An hour later, our car was dragged off the metal ramp and up the incline by a large cargo truck (because, of course, the engine wouldn’t start).
Two more pull-starts later down the road, and we were successfully back in Morondava.
ah, Europeans, and their brilliant ideas!
The next morning we took another bus ride (many stops, unloading, loading, eating, etc.), 17 hours back to Antsirabe, a highland town (it’s winter time!), where we stopped for a night, then woke up and ate a big Petit Dejouner, and got on another bus to Ambositra (another highland town), a few hours south on the main highway. In Ambositra, we bought cheese made by nuns at a local convent.
Vegetables, carrots!! They’re everywhere here! It’s an amazing cornucopia.
Back at the Morondava station
I love the taxis!
road back to the highlands from Morondava
every bus is packed like this
western countryside
Antsirabe
pousse pousse
traveling south through the highlands
we bought cheese from this convent
this was our hotel in Ambositra
After Ambositra, we took another bus further south to Fianar, where we got another bus going to Ranomafana, our next park destination. We camped on a hill overlooking a river next to a beautiful virgin forest filled with lemurs.
Ambositra
our campsite in Ranomafana
hiking in Ranomafana
red fronted brown lemur (?)
me and the lemur
crowds looking for lemurs at Ranomafana
sifika
bamboo forest
mushrooms
giraffe necked weevil
chameleon
The very hard to find Mouse Lemur (we had to go on a night walk and rub banana on the tree to attract it, and still it's impossible to photograph).
the restaurant we ate at showed us this half-alive specimen
Ranomafana
After a day of hiking and lemur watching, we took a bus back to Fianar, and then on to Ambalavao, where we met up with Brad, a Peace Corps volunteer who works with a women’s silk weaving group. He brought us to his amazing village market filled with loads of different vegetables, and then we had a great night eating pizza (again) and drinking local wine.
Ambalavao market
vegetable medley sold by the can-full
it's grasshopper season! Yum, yum?
Brad (in the center) is the Peace Corps volunteer in Ambalavao
women's silk weaving group
processing the silk
silk collective
typical highland architecture
the chickens here look like dinosaurs
The next day we took a short bus ride to Vohitsoaka, and
then caught a lucky ride part-way to Mororano where we met two more Peace Corps
Volunteers, Liz and Jess. Liz
works with Andringitra National Park, and she was very helpful in setting up a
local guide for us. Within
minutes after arrival, we were on the trail headed up a very steep mountain. The trail was almost entirely made of tall stone stair steps, which made the hike very difficult. We were also carrying our tent and
sleeping bags, as well as lots of warm clothing, so it was a tough hike. And I was completely not prepared for
the mountains after spending a year in the flat savannah of Ghana. However, it was extraordinarily
beautiful and well worth the effort.
We camped on the mountain, and our guide made us a delicious
dinner (over an open fire) of rice with instant noodles and vegetables on
top. We had bought carrots,
cabbage, eggplants, and onions in the market in Ambalavao because we knew that
we’d have to cook our own food while in Andringitra park.
The next day, the weather was quite bad, so our big hike into the mountains was cut short by fog and rain. We retreated down the mountain, ate another great meal at our campsite, and then walked back down the endless stairstep mountain path back to Liz's village in the valley. With our leftover food supplies we had a great evening with Liz and Jess, making a large pot of cabbage and potato soup, and sitting on her balcony, talking about life as Peace Corps volunteers.
The next day, the weather was quite bad, so our big hike into the mountains was cut short by fog and rain. We retreated down the mountain, ate another great meal at our campsite, and then walked back down the endless stairstep mountain path back to Liz's village in the valley. With our leftover food supplies we had a great evening with Liz and Jess, making a large pot of cabbage and potato soup, and sitting on her balcony, talking about life as Peace Corps volunteers.
on the way to Andringitra Park
the road to Andringitra
heading up the mountain
our guide walking up the moutain
our campsite
cooking hut at the campsite
high altitude plants
The weather was bad, so we cut short our hike; it was really cold, raining, and foggy.
coming down the mountain
looking down into the valley
We spent a night in our tent in Liz’s backyard, and in the
middle of the night I awoke with a terrible, throbbing headache. I took ibuprofen and was eventually
able to sleep again, but in the morning I still had a bad headache, and it felt
like there was a baseball lodged behind my nose. When I bent over, the headache surged even stronger. I’ve decided it was some sort of sinus
infection, although I’ve never had one before. The winds were really strong while we were in Andringitra,
and I think something in the air bothered my sinuses. Still, we made the 15 km walk back to Vohitsoaka (okay, I admit we got a ride for the last several kilometers), and then took another bus to Ambalavao. Back
in Ambalavao, we talked with Brad who gets terrible sinus infections, and he
gave me the meds that PC had given him, and I was cured within a few days.
street food in Ambalavao
our new friends, Liz and Jess
me and Brad
The next morning we were off headed south again to Isalo National Park. It was a beautiful park, but the guide system is really obnoxious. Just as we entered the town, a man jumped into our bus and told us that he really wanted to be our guide. Turned off by his aggressive approach, we shrugged him off, and waited until the next morning when we approached the park office to pay our fees. At the office, they told us that we should already have a guide before coming to the office. Also, the guides were very lazy, and many didn’t want to walk the extra kilometers into the park. They are accustomed to tourists who have their own private vehicles and get driven into the park. Most guides refused to walk to the more remote attractions/trails, and we had to settle for a French speaking guide who complained about us the entire time in French and Malagasy to everyone we passed.
chameleon
our hut near Isalo park
walking out to Isalo National Park
Isalo
this is actually an insect (?) on a branch; it looks exactly like the branch
natural pool at Isalo
ring tailed lemur
another natural pool at Isalo
Mark swam while I gazed
drying laundry near Isalo
After our day in Isalo, we took a bus to Tulear, on the
southwestern coast. There is no
beach there (it’s all mud, and we’re not allowed near the water because of
pickpocketers), but there was a spectacular restaurant, Etoile de Mer, where we
got the best pizzas I’ve eaten in a long time, maybe ever. And wifi!
Actually, we ate their pizzas twice, once on the way in, and once on the
way out. We ate dinner at a
strange place called La Beuf, which was the main hangout spot for
every retired Frenchman in Tulear.
There were a dozen four wheelers parked out front (evidently the vehicle
of choice among the expats), and a handful of very thin, very young Malagasy women
(prostitutes?) strutting around and entertaining the Frenchmen while they
played bocce ball in the parking lot.
Very odd experience.
ornamentation for tombs
street in Tulear
Our cute hotel in Tulear; I imagined converting it into artists' lofts.
The next day we rode 27 km north to Ifaty in a converted pickup truck with bench
seats in the back. Ifaty has a
better beach and is a real tourist destination, but the ocean is rocky, and the
hawkers selling trinkets are overwhelming and relentless. We ended up paying to use the fancy pool
at a nice hotel just to escape the hassle of the beach.
Ifaty
me at Ifaty beach
our bungalow at Ifaty
in the Reniala spiny forest in Ifaty
tortoise
bottle baobob
the roots of a baobob tree (on the left) go straight down like a carrot, whereas the roots of other trees (right) spread out.
this one is over 1000 years old
weaver bird nest
these baobobs are 7 years old----they are very slow growing trees
this baobob is 24 years old
Tortoise sanctuary
Madagascar tortoises are endangered because the locals eat them.
A little restaurant in Ifaty
I ate this same 'soupe chinoise' probably 12 times or more in Madagascar.
Ifaty
fancy pool we paid to swim in
I'm happy to say I was not aboard this bus.
pousse pousse (rickshaw) ride
Back in Tulear, we booked a bus back to the capital. Our bus was two hours late leaving because they had to load this crate of chickens, plus another basket of chickens, two turkeys, and a goat. All the chickens and turkeys were later unloaded in the middle of the night, on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere at a police checkpoint. Evidently the owner of the chickens didn't have to proper paperwork to transport that many birds. We left her and the birds on the side of the road and kept moving. A 19 hour bus ride to Tana.
another bus being loaded
the turkeys
Tulear bus station madness
Tana
Tana
Tana
We quickly left Tana for the Island of Sainte Marie to give me an extra special 30th birthday celebration. For those with money, this is a quick flight from Tana. For us, this meant another terrible winding road to Tamatave (threw up again) (8 hour ride). And then another 4 hours to S. Ivongo, where we boarded a ferry going to Sainte Marie.
pretty good lunch in S. Ivongo
S. Ivongo, the launch point for boats to Ile Sainte Marie. We got stuck here for a night because our shuttle bus left us behind in Tamatave, and we consequently missed the boat because we had to take three local buses to get to this town. Our spirits were rather low on this afternoon/evening because we really wanted to be on the island.
very budget accommodations near the dock
finally on the boat to Ile Sainte Marie
Ile Sainte Marie
this is where we stayed the first night on Ile Sainte Marie
really enjoying myself
hotel dog (from The Neverending Story?)
kids digging for clams, crabs, etc.
We stayed for a night at Princesse Bora hotel to celebrate my birthday---it was total heaven. I cried when I left. For 24 hours, I was a part of an exclusive club, and it was awesome. This (above) is the most glorious swimming pool; completely empty, the perfect temperature. I stayed in this pool most of the day.
mmm, Princesse Bora lunch
the villas
our 'villa' at Princesse Bora
heaven
heaven
Princesse Bora hotel
paradise
the Princesse Bora hotel dog; his collar reads 'Do not feed me'
sea urchins (the black things)
us and the hotel dog
We went whale watching with CetaMada, a research organization that is based at Princesse Bora. They encourage and practice ethical whale watching.
me
very old church on Ile Sainte Marie
boat ride to the pirate cemetery on Ile Sainte Marie
pirate cemetery on Ile Sainte Marie
notice the skull and crossbones
our ferry to and from Ile Sainte Marie
ferry ride back to mainland Madagascar
Tana used clothing market---so much fun
There's a lake in Tana that looks great when you're driving by in a taxi, but when you walk around it it smells like urine, and is fairly disgusting.
Tana
Tana
Tana
Tana
Tana
Sakamanga hotel, Tana
For our last nights in Madagascar, we stayed in a french-owned boutique hotel called Sakamanga. It is really charming, and has great artifacts in all the rooms and hallways.
Sakamanga hotel
Sakamanga hotel
Sakamanga hotel
Sakamanga hotel
Sakamanga hotel
Sakamanga hotel
Sakamanga hotel
our hotel room at Sakamanga in Tana
street scene in Tana
our flight home
On our plane flight to Nairobi, we met an American who has been living in Kenya for 7 years and who works for a US aid organization. We had a great time talking to her about her work and travels, and she invited us to spend our 16 hour layover with her at her apartment in Nairobi. It was a fabulous evening (we did get stuck in a 2 hour traffic jam, but all that is forgotten); we ate a huge dinner at a Japanese/Lebanese restaurant, and then slept a wonderful night in her beautiful home before returning to the airport at 6:30 am for our final flight back to Accra.
What a great way to celebrate the end of my 20s and the beginning of my 30s!
