Tana was officially closed. Even the beggars were taking a day off. A few cafes and shops were open, but mostly the place was quiet and empty. It made a nice change, but also meant that there wasn’t much to do. So we spent my last day in Madagascar chilling out, starting on our balcony overlooking the city:
Followed by a walk to the park to sit under the beautiful Jacaranda trees – so great that we’re here in October when they’re in full bloom.
And they cry – as I stood waiting for Rudy, there was a slow but steady drip.
A detour back to the hotel unexpectedly revealed a nice view of the lake, complete with statue and the city sprawling into the distance:
Smoke started coming in from behind us. We were sat in the back of the taxi as the front passenger seat was rocking, throwing me back every time the driver braked. MOT-worthy this car was not. “Pas problem” (“no problem”) the driver kept saying as we tried to alert him to the smoke, and he pushed our window down further to disperse the fumes. He explained that there was a hole in the exhaust pipe. Given the state of the rest of the car, this did not come as much of a surprise.
After agreeing a price, (the taxis here don’t have meters so it’s important to settle on a price for the journey before you start), we walked to his car. It had clearly seen better days. Mind you, most things had seen better days than this tin can. Virtually nothing worked – the dashboard was long since dead, the windows didn’t even have handles to wind them down and the inside door release had departed some time ago.
Immediately after setting off, he pulled into a petrol station. That’s another thing – they only buy the fuel once they’ve got a ride. It was at this point that he asked us for money to buy the petrol. Rudy was having none of it. I figured we’d just advance him some of the fare, but Rudy explained that they’ll still request the original fare once you arrive, and if you’re in a place with lots of their cronies, it’s difficult and potentially dangerous to put up a fight.
Our hotel was down a long, narrow alleyway and I didn’t relish the return journey at 2am the next morning. But inside, it was a nice place and, after a quick trip to check out the airport, I settled in for my last zebu dinner in a don’t-know-how-long.
To bed for my last half-night in Madagascar.
Random stuff from today:
These type of sweets (see top left) were banned in England a long time ago – cigarette biscuit, anyone?:
