It was time to return to Antananarivo. The drive back was just as beautiful as the drive there. I learned more about the people and the land. As we drove, large sacks lined the road with grass coming out the top. The grass was so the homemade charcoal wouldn’t get wet (called Charbon). This is one of the main sources of fuel for cooking. He returned to the topic of how expensive energy was. He told me almost everyone uses it and how much cheaper it is in the country. I hoped he would tell me if he needed or wanted to stop and get some. In French I told him we could stop but I am not sure it was communicated well.
We also talked about police corruption and the torn up roads which are repeatedly worsened by the over regulation weight trucks transporting goods back to Tana. We passed at least 5 broken down that were bursting at the seems full of wood and other goods.
Beside us for most of the journey were train tracks. He scoffed at this when I asked telling me the train only runs twice a week for passengers and even less frequently it seems for goods transport (it depends on the company). Train stations once thriving were mostly abandoned and a product of the corrupt government.
After arriving to Tana he first took me to the ATM to withdraw money to pay him. This was almost uneventful and would have been if I hadn't gotten trapped in with the ATM. The door got stuck. It took me about 90 secs to get out which for the record feels like an eternity when no one is paying attention.
He then took me shopping for post cards. This was the first shopping I had done on this trip. He wasn't excited about this because of the traffic. I soon understood why. The roads were packed. It was pay day. We were crawling. Arriving at our destination, I quickly picked my post cards and hopped back in the car.
After this we headed to the airport (He wanted me to get food nearby) and our progress was slowed by incredibly hard rain followed by a flash flood.
As we sat in park and watched a flash flood, I offered him an RX bar. It was one of my favorite flavors: Mint. I think he would have spit it out in the car if it wouldn't have made a mess. He asked me if I had other food. I said no. It was then very important to him that I eat before my flight. He tried in vane to take me to various American, Italian and then Thai restaurants for which I told him politely, “No Thank you. I would like to eat Malagasy.” He seemed skeptical but we ended up at a Hotely that served mostly pizza and fries (He kept saying “They have fries.”).
I ate the Malagasy food, sitting alone at the table with less caution than the last hotely (which was probably not appropriate since every other person the restaurant was eating pizza and fries).
After that it was quickly to the airport where I asked for a post office from the first person I saw at the information desk. He offered to show me where it was which involved him walking me all the way there and waiting for me (It was off airport property, but I had time). This for certain was going to cost me either money or an extreme guilt trip whichever I allowed. I ended up giving him my post office change. He seemed rather pleased with this.
The first level of security at that airport was to fill out an “I promise I didn’t get the plague form” and have my temperature taken. I was overdressed and feeling sweaty. Despite my degree, I occasionally have irrational medical fears. For example: my jacket raising my core body temperature enough to put me in quarantine. I took the jacket off to prevent the possibility of them seeing me sweat and retaking my temperature.
We waited in line for 45 minutes for the counter to open. I was headed to Reunion (which I didn’t know was a place before this, but is a tropical French territory off the coast of Africa) because of the plague there were no direct flights to the Seychelles. Then I had to stand in the customs line two times. I got to the front and the counter had not given me the 2nd form I needed to get by. The counter agent had let me keep my bag because of my 12 hour layover in Reunion so I had no complaints (Yessss!!!).
In line I met two Canadians who were teachers in the American School in Tana and had been for 2.5 years. They were headed towards Reunion for Christmas with their infant son. They were a wealth of information about Madagascar. They had decided the upcoming semester would be their last because living in Madagascar was fine until they had their son and as bad as the plague had been with an essentially nonexistent medical system it was not worth the risk. Their next destination is Romania.
After talking to the Canadians for a bit I decided to explore the airport and spend the rest of my Malagasy money. I found very little that I would like to purchase. I settled on a few vanilla beans (over $10. The Madagascar Vanilla price increase is apparently real.) and a bag that contained 6 pieces of dried fruit which were over $6USD and triple what I had just spent on my Hotely food. These two items represent the highest airport mark up I have experienced to date.
Off to Reunion and the land of Euros for the night.
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