Category: Madagascar 2018

Park fees

Park fees for foreigners have increased steeply over the past year – the figures quoted in my guidebook (published Sep 2017) are way out. For instance, the book quoted the guide fee in Zombitse as 3,000 Ar, but it cost 64,000 Ar. This is almost certainly because the Malagsy must have worked out just how little 3,000 Ar was to us, and realised they could get away with much more. Can’t blame them, I suppose, but it’s been rather a shock – when I visit Africa, I don’t expect to still pay European prices! Our relative wealth must be mind-boggling to them.

Elections

Elections are taking place in early November, and there are no fewer than 36 candidates. The youngest (aged 42) is expected to win. In most towns there are long wooden boards with 36 sections – one for each candidate to display their propaganda. One candidate is giving out distinctive bright orange t-shirts. Trying to get hold of one, but they seem scarce!

Technology

This trip was an(other) experiment for my next longer one – I’ve changed my tech strategy. Learning from the pain caused by writing a blog on an iPhone, I brought a small, cheap Chromebook and ditched the iPhone. Blogging is much easier, but I’m missing the smartphone for these two main reasons:

• I can’t take panoramic pictures on my point n’ shoot camera (not sure why – surely this could be possible?)
• I can’t take notes during the day so I’m forgetting things that I want to write about

Polar steps

In Kirindy we met a couple who were using an app called “Polar steps” to log their adventure. It automatically logged their movements, steps and countries visited and they could add text and, of course, photos. You could then have your trip “downloaded” into a physical book. Definitely worth looking into when I get home.

[Update: Polar steps seems a good app, but it doesn’t allow photos to be inserted within text (not that I could see, anyway) – so it’s not as good as a blog]

French influence

It’s everywhere. The most obvious is the language – virtually everyone speaks French, as well as Malagsy. But you can also see it in the architecture, food and drink.

Road blocks

Up ahead, there were stones in the road, and Jimmy slowed. As we passed, children begged for “bon bons” and what I assume means “money” in Malagsy. Apparenly, they deliberately put things in the road to slow down the traffic and beg!

Houses

They’re all single skin, even the brick-built ones. Engineering hasn’t quite made it here, either*

* There weren’t any cavity walls in SE Asia or China, resulting in terrible damp in the buildings.

Taps

Blue is hot and red is cold – not sure whether it’s a plumbing error or the Malagsy standard doesn’t match the imported ironmongery. It took a little while to work out, and I have to remember every time I take a shower as old habits die hard!

Crime

With nothing to steal, crime isn’t a major problem for the locals in Madagascar. Houses appear to have minimal security and easy access. Banditry on the roads is the main issue – robbers are often driven to it because there’s no work.

Buses

You have to pay in advance at the terminal, and then come back to verify your tickets before the journey. And then, of course, turn up for departure. I can’t help but think there must be a better way…

Rudy’s magic

I love travelling with Rudy for many reasons. I especially love the way his personality shines through when he interacts with the locals, and how they warm to him. Actually, everyone warms to him. But it’s especially noticeable with the locals. For instance, the waiter at lunch asked which room number he should charge our food to.

Rudy held up the very large key fob: “Number six.”

And then Rudy clearly had a re-think, turned it upside-down and hurriedly said: “No, no – number nine, number nine” with a big grin on his face.

This morning’s walk increased my wildlife tally even further, starting with the red-fronted brown lemur:

Swiftly followed by more verreaux sifakas:

And my fave photo of the day:

Numbers of this beautiful species are dwindling. They’re slower than their smaller cousins, so make easier hunting for the fossa. So adapted are they to life in the trees, that when they do venture down to the ground they have to gallop along. This characteristic “dance” is very slow and makes them easy prey.

Tourists drive away the fossa. When we arrived, the sifakas were making a distinctive sound, warning their party that fossa were near so not to go low in the trees. About ten minutes later, the sound stopped – with the arrival of the tourists, the fossa was no longer a threat.

Marcel, our rather excellent guide, told a story about a group of researchers who requested that guides not take tourists to see one particular sifaka family that they were researching, as it was changing their behaviour and so disrupting their study. The guides agreed. Unfortunately, with no tourists, the fossa invaded and the whole sifaka family were killed. No more subjects 🙁

Other notable sightings today included this iguana:

A paradise flycatcher:

A souimanga sunbird and a coquere’s coua:

The crested drongo can imitate other birds’ calls. But it uses it for good, not evil. It protects the eggs of other, smaller birds and will fight larger birds that prey on them. It also provides its weaker cousins with food. By all accounts, it’s a good bird to have around.

Every now and again, we’d stumble across an enormous shell, some wedged within a tree – they’re apparently everywhere during rainy season:

And I was introduced to “Mr Baobab”:

But why do they call it “Mr Baobab”, I hear you ask. I’m not sure, but the bottom of the tree looked like this:

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Avenue of the Baobabs is one of the must-sees of Madagascar. Must-sees can sometimes not live up to their hype, especially when it’s simply a line of trees and every photo of it we’d see was the same scene. Happily, it was an unexpectedly magical experience (having low expectations is sometimes a blessing!). Here are the money shots:

Part of the reason it was enjoyable was the lack of crowds:

But judging by the new ticket office being built at one end of the avenue, it won’t be that way for long. And neither will it stay free.

On the journey from Kirindy we’d also stopped at the “sacred” baobab (sacred because it’s apparently over 1,000 years old… even though my reliable guidebook said the oldest baobab had been dated at 900 years!):

And the “lovers’ baobab” (which we saw later had spawned a whole industry dedicated to reproducing it in various materials, mostly to sell to tourists):

We bowled up to the restaurant for a nice, relaxing meal hoping to enjoy the local seafood and calm view of the ocean… just as the karaoke was starting up. The singing was so awful, we politely asked if we could eat in our room. But full marks for dedication and effort (one had even learnt the harmonies to some popular Malagsy ballads).

And, finally, BOTD:

Followed by my bug fascination captured on film:

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The day started with breakfast overlooking the Mozambique Channel:

Whilst the big events are the focus of travelling – the small moments are often just as enjoyable 🙂

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First stop was the Avenue of Baobabs (“baobab” is pronounced with two syllables) – we’re visiting twice more, so just some photos to give a sense of these majestic trees:

Kirindy Reserve is actually privately owned. It’s original purpose was the sustainable “harvesting” of trees, but wildlife here is abundant and that’s the main draw for tourists.

Everyone else was in a shiny new 4×4. Ours was a banger – the bonnet had to be opened to start the thing, the windows were controlled by opening the driver door and fiddling with something electrical on the inside, the passenger door didn’t close unless you slammed it from the outside. And just forget about the dashboard. Luxury it was not.

But Alain took it all in his stride, as well as the flat tyre and the attempt to rescue another vehicle stuck in a large puddle:

The route took us through a dry, arid landscape – and, interestingly, the locals have noticeably darker skin here:

And tribal villages that were more primitive than previously, with smaller houses and no electricity:

At Kirindy Lodge (where electricity is only available between 10am and 2pm and then 6 – 10pm) we shared our room with two lizards:

And later that day, two lizards mated outside our bungalow. It felt slightly too voyeuristic for comfort:

We were soon treated to one of the main reason for our visit: fossa. Seemingly 75% cat (walking, posture, body) and 25% dog (face and lying position), they’re the main predator of lemurs:

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Now *that* is what you call a night walk. Not only did it involve no bait whatsoever, it increased my wildlife tally by one grey mouse lemur:

One nocturnal sportive lemur:

One western fat-tailed dwarf lemur:

One fork-marked lemur:

A hibernating oustalet’s chameleon:

A lizard:

A gecko:

A massive spider:

And a cat-eyed snake:

A very satisfying day indeed.

Saying goodbye to Jo was sadder than I expected. After nine days it was time to go our separate ways – with so much more time to play with, she was exploring Madagascar in more detail than I was able to. Our shared experience had brought us closer than in “normal” life, but it was time to say goodbye. I wished her all the best and hoped that she’d keep in touch.

Half an hour earlier, Jimmy had stood proudly in Rudy’s old jacket. He beamed as we told him it suited him (which was the truth). Rudy brings old clothes when he travels and donates them to people before he leaves. We weren’t sure how Jimmy would take the offer – we didn’t want to insult him – but Rudy brought it up delicately and Jimmy gratefully accepted. Along with his generous tip, he was a very happy guide, and we were happy customers.

The old woman was gaunt, stick-thin and I suspect looked much older than her years. My heart broke as she desperately begged for money. I still don’t know how to handle these situations – a small donation that would be unnoticeable by me would make such a difference to her. But there was a group, and I knew that if I gave her something, everyone would come begging. I’ve been asked hundreds of times for money on this trip and I can’t afford to give to everyone. So I choose to give to nobody, which doesn’t seem right either.

With the luxury bus full, we took the second-class bus (which is pretty much the same price) for the 9-hour journey from Antsirabe to Morondava. In England, nine hours would seem like an eternity (and you’d fall off the end) but elsewhere it’s a medium-sized journey.

It was notable for the following:

Roadside beggars ignored us – buses won’t stop, individuals can’t be targeted and they’ve probably learnt that bus occupants are less likely to donate (as they’re mostly locals)

Everyone was very quiet… except the baby who screamed for most of the journey

The only stop was a 20-min break for lunch

The scenery was impressive, but very similar to what we’d already seen in the south – the greenery of the film still eludes me

It rained hard for the first time on my trip

The sunset was beautiful – but now we couldn’t ask the driver to stop for photos (so this is the best I could do)!

We arrived in the dark at 6:50pm to the sound, but not the sight, of the sea. Alain collected us bang on 7pm as agreed and deposited us at our hotel.

Travel days are inexplicably tiring – I was asleep before Rudy was even out of the shower.

Travelling for me usually involves having a rough idea of what I’d like to see and then winging it once I arrive at the destination. This technique has several advantages, giving flexibility to respond and adapt to local advice, unforeseen opportunities and the reality of life which no amount of research can truly prepare you for.

My approach just doesn’t work in Madagascar. Public transport is unreliable, unsafe and extremely uncomfortable (on the bus back from the Queen’s Palace, I couldn’t physically fit my legs in the gap between my seat and the one in front). One option is to hire a car, but this has the drawback of requiring you to drive extremely long distances and reports of police taking advantage of unaccompanied foreigners made this even less attractive. The only other viable option is to hire a car and driver. And quite understandably, they want to know your itinerary. If you don’t have one, you’re forced to create one. Even the flexibility of additional days we’d agreed with Jimmy for our RN7 tour had limitations – the car was booked out on the day we were due to arrive back in Tana, so in reality there was no option to extend.

And so it was that we planned the final parts of my Madagascan adventure in detail: a trip to Morondava in the west to take in Kirindy NP and some R&R; followed by a journey to the east to snatch some time at another National Park before my flight home. As I’d only expected to be able to do one or other of these, it was great to be able to squeeze in both.

Ironically, despite being expensive, Madagascar makes it a little hard to pay – few places take credit cards (and if they do, a whopping 5% fee is charged) and three cashpoints we tried in Fianar weren’t stocked. Eventually I could access some money – again once again, lots and lots of bank notes for £400.

Jo was keen to try shell-shaped sugar snacks we’d seen in many markets, and Rudy wanted a taste of the local honey so we stopped at a layby. Within moments, we were surrounded by vendors crowding round the car and desperately pushing their baskets of wares through the top of the semi-open windows:

The eucalyptus honey was especially good (€1 a bottle) and the sugar snacks as sweet and inedible (for me, anyway) as expected.

During the journey we passed a taxi-brousse that was so well-laden its backside was almost touching the ground:

Burning bricks:

A gathering that looked like a funeral:

And this local who, once they’d clocked Rudy’s camera, couldn’t resist a “contemporary dance performance”:

Fianar is the capital of the pousse-pousse, steadily being replaced by bicycle rickshaws. Lining the streets were wooden contraptions powered by wiry, bare-footed locals – what a hard life:

Like many hot countries, the Malagsy live much of their lives outside – the roads were bustling. Even out in the country it was common to see people walking along the road (which is probably more a sign of their wealth, but made possible by the climate):

More rum and chocolate mousse for dinner.  I could get used to this 🙂

Ring-tailed lemurs are one of the most recognisable species of lemur (or anything, for that matter!). We encountered the first family group just minutes from the park office. I’m not sure why they’re called ring-tails, but there’s probably a good reason.

… and were then blessed with another four family groups within the space of about 400 metres:

It was wonderful just to sit and watch them:

Technically, you’re not supposed to get within 2 metres of a lemur. I assume this is for their protection. Thing is, nobody seems to have told the lemurs. This one jumped up right next to me on the rock I was leaning against – she was so close, I could have touched her:

Here’s another oustalet’s chameleon:

Interestingly, the male can only change between brown, black, grey and white whereas the female has a repertoire of all colours. Except purple. I’m guessing she never has a need for this, so hasn’t developed the ability. Oh, and contrary to popular belief, a chameleon doesn’t change colour to blend in with its surroundings – it’s colour reflects its mood (and varies by species, as each has a different repertoire of colours).

Males’ life expectancy is double that of the females’ 3 – 4 years (during which time they’ll give birth about three times).

They fed the chameleon. I’m not sure how I feel about this – I’m not sure it’s that much different to feeding wild lemurs, but maybe it has less impact on their natural behaviour because their range is so much smaller. These images were all taken within less than one second, giving a sense of how quick they are:

We’d booked a 90-minute “walk” and were accompanied by two spotters – one for lemurs and the other for chameleons. This struck me as odd considering that chameleons only move about 2 metres each night, so it’s probably not difficult to work out roughly where they’ll be. And in our case, the lemurs came to us. It was, of course, a ploy to get more tips, but the spotters clearly knew that they were pushing their luck!

I had to be dragged away from the lemurs. I could have watched them all day, but our time was up.

On the return journey, we were treated to a snake crossing our path (it’s in the top left quadrant):

Based on lemurs per Ariary, Anja reserve provided by far the best value – really glad we stopped here. Thanks for the advice, Jimmy 🙂

The zebu market had finished by the time we got back to Ambalavao, but we caught the main market which gave a completely different feel to the place compared to when we stopped here on the way down:

On the way, we’d passed through some amazing scenery, and more tribal villages:

… where one particular group was honoured with some Rudy magic. We’d stopped for a photo opportunity when the inevitable request for a photo came in. Often, they’ll persuade you to take a photo of them and sometimes then ask for payment. Rudy has developed a highly effective strategy – he agrees… and then gives them his camera and invites them to take a photo of us!

As he signalled to the man to take his camera, the face of the boy next to him lit up, mistakenly thinking he was the subject of Rudy’s offer. His friends laughed as Rudy put his camera strap around the neck of the man. But I quietly and discretely signalled to Rudy to offer the boy and, after sharing the man’s photo, he put the camera round the boy’s neck. The laughing suddenly stopped.

Everyone was happy, and we got two photos:

A wonderfully lemury day 😀

And today’s BOTD is, without a doubt, these incredible creations (and I can’t for the life of me remember what they’re called):

 

Nocturnal sportive lemurs aren’t very sportive. Even at night, they move slowly and during the day they hide (from the fossa) in tree hollows. You can sometimes spot them peering out of their hidey hole:

Not exactly easy to spot, are they? That’s why it’s good to have a guide, and many guides have “spotters” who scour the area for finds. Here’s a close-up:

Sifakas are named after the cry they make when they see an enemy (shee-fa-ka). Verreaux’s sifakas stay in family groups. According to one guide, there is one male per group; according to the other guide, the group consists of pairs. And according to Google, they’re both right – the “troops” of 2 – 12 animals can consist of one male and female, or many males and females together. Oh, and the females are dominant, so it’s a matriarchal society:

It was only on closer inspection later that we noticed that the male had lost an eye, and part of his ear:

Zombitse isn’t visited as much as the other parks on RN7, perhaps because it’s smaller and a little way off the beaten track – most tourists head from Isalo straight to the beaches of Toliara. But it was a rewarding and worthwhile experience. Apart from the lemurs, which are always a highlight, it was the short walk to the toilets that delivered the most impressive wildlife, the highlight of which was the gecko on the wall of the toilet:

Also on the “toilet walk” (I don’t think this is its official name!) was a giant coua:

Beautiful butterflies (impossible to photograph as they’re never still), termite nests, a shed snake skin and this lizard:

The park had also produced a strangling fig:

The ever-wonderful baobabs:

And some other incredible flora and fauna:

Isalo is the region of the Bara tribe, who have some of the more unusual customs. As well as the aforementioned circumcision ritual, every winter (Jul to Sep) they “turn the bones” of their ancestors, carefully rewrapping them before re-burial. Back to the ranch via plains dotted with Bara villages:

Other highlights on the return journey included the baobabs:

A small, but informative museum, and the “queen rock” (you might need a little imagination for this one):

Another great day 🙂

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Other random stuff from today:

Let’s start with the BOTD:

A lady making rice cakes:

And us attracting attention during a comfort break:

 

Isalo is the most visited national park in Madagascar. Tourists come for the deep canyons, rare endemic plants and dry weather. And, of course, the wildlife.

Camouflage is a very common survival technique in Madagascar. Here are two observation challenges for you (answers at the end of the post). Let’s start with the easier one. There’s a stick insect in this image – can you find it?:

And now for something a little more difficult. Can you spot the spider on this branch?

My tally today also included another oustalet’s chameleon (also known by it’s much more impressive title of “Malagsy giant chameleon”):

A “lantern” insect:

A hoopoe (what a great name!):

Fire-resistant trees that make good firewood(!): their bark is fire-resistant, protecting the wood underneath that burns well. Extensive logging has endangered the species, which is also home to a variety of insects, so the problem was explained to the locals and pine and eucalyptus introduced as a substitute. I’m pleased to report that the tapia tree is now doing well:

Termite mounds:

And an ants’ nest:

Our guide, Roxy, explained the symbiotic relationship between ants and snakes. When the snake experiences skin problems, it’ll go into the ants’ hole where they scratch it. In return, the ants use the snake’s shed skin. Dead snakes are regularly found in ants’ nest but, contrary to popular belief, the ants don’t kill it – the snake goes there to die.

Isalo is a geologist’s dream – the rock formations are very impressive:

Roxy described how the landscape was formed, but I didn’t take my smartphone on this trip so wasn’t able to take notes (nor keep up with his explanation) so resolved to research this when I got home. [Update: I can’t find *anything* via Google about how the area evolved. Really. And the section on geology in my guidebook relates to the whole of Mada, not this region specifically. So, if there are any Madagascan geology experts out there, please do get in touch as I’d love to know the history of it all].

We first saw the ring-tailed lemurs in the trees:

And then lunch brought a visit from one, but it wasn’t scavenging and mostly ignored us:

One of the tourists was about to feed the lemur. “No, no, no, no, no”, I warned. She quickly backed off, looking very sheepish. Tourists’ stupidity threatens these creatures – you should never feed a wild animal. The problem can clearly be seen in Yosemite – tourists feed the bears to “get a good picture”, the bears come to rely on the food source, lose their fear of humans, become a danger and then have to be shot. A dead bear in exchange for a good photo, that the tourist will probably never look at again. Very sad.

The caterpillar in the salad at dinner was the final (unexpected) wildlife encounter of the day.

Other random stuff from today:

Whilst the others were eating breakfast, I got out my tube of suncream and started to methodically apply it to every bit of exposed skin (I’m quite an expert at this and can “cream up” in no time). An old Malagsy man who was walking past stopped, pointed and started laughing – not maliciously, but it was clearly tickling him! His laugh was infectious. The more suncream I applied, the more he laughed. I’m guessing he had no idea what I was doing, but I’m glad I made him happy. I’d have loved to know what was going through his head. Not for the first time, I wished I’d filmed the encounter.

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And in case you’re interested, here’s the stick insect from the photo earlier:

And the spider (this one will blow your mind):

Tipping

How much to tip is always difficult for the traveller. You want to reward good service, but not go over the top. My guidebook advised to consider the cost of living and average wages. For instance, a qualified school teacher would earn about €80 a month, so tip your driver proportionately. This is more difficult than it sounds.

Milk

Milk isn’t abundant here and, when it is offered, it’s either UHT or powdered. So no latte, but you can get black tea anywhere.

Slogan t-shirts

Slogan t-shirts aren’t as popular here as they are in SE Asia, but I’ve amassed a little collection of example so far:

“I’m so sweet / I’ll give you cavities”

“Don’t worry / I have a dream”

“I [heart] only”

GDP

It might be the tenth poorest country in the world by GDP, but the Malagsy people *appear* to have a better quality of life than those I saw in Cambodia and Laos. Very few are skinny, most have good quality clothes and some children have toys (which I never saw in Cambodia or Laos). Although some of them are clearly homemade:

Houses

Given its lack of wealth, I was expecting houses to be more makeshift, but most in the cities are made of brick or concrete, and those in the country are made of clay. All of them look pretty solid. But, like Asia, they appear to be single skin.

Horns

Vehicles here have two horns to reflect the two main purposes – one friendly and one more aggressive. For those who know what I’m talking about: the “friendly” horn is (almost) a middle C (or sometimes a major third) sounded as a sforzando followed by a sharp diminuendo; and the “aggressive” horn is pretty much like our own. It’s a shame we don’t have the two on UK vehicles so we can communicate less aggressively. Perhaps this would positively impact people’s emotional state whilst driving.

Entrance fees

Foreigners have different entrance prices to most attractions. The Queen’s Palace in Tana was 10,000 Ar for us versus 2,000 Ar for a local. But the national parks have the biggest difference – for instance, entrance to Ranomafana was 55,000 Ar (about £13) per foreigner but just 2,000 Ar (about 50p) for locals. It’s a “white privilege” tax that I’m willing to pay, especially as it ensures the continued protection of their precious natural landscapes. But it is making this trip much more expensive than anticipated!

Road blocks

No road blocks for the first four days, and then three within 10 minutes of each other. Sapphire mines are around here, so security is stepped up. Except brides (or “bakshee”) are rife, so you can pretty much get away with anything.

Taxi-brousse

As well as the coffin we saw in Ambalavao, I’ve spotted the following on the roof of a taxi-brousse:

• Furniture (it looked like someone was moving house!)
• Ducks
• Goats

The 30 – 50cm limit is, it would seem, totally non-existent. And it makes the vehicles look very unsafe – the bit above the roof is sometimes taller than the bit below!

Roads

Four roads in Madagascar are in reasonably good repair: one to the north, south, east and west of Tana. Repairs are frequently seen and have clearly been done well – you barely notice as the car goes over them. Very impressed.

Breakfast was carrot noodle soup at the market… with a massive lump of zebu fat. I realised that this was an honour – the fat is the best part for the Malagsy. But there was no way I could physically eat the fat (I’m very unpicky with my food – a major advantage when travelling – but there are only two things I cannot physically eat and meat fat is one of them. It’s the texture. For info, the other is peanut butter – ugh!).

On the way out of Ranomafana we stopped at a natural spring that was gushing out of a pipe by the roadside. Filled up all our empty water bottles. Evian on tap.

Fianarantsoa is the second largest city in Madagascar. The name means “good” (tsoa) “education” (finanaran) education” and is well-deserved: the city supports numerous educational establishments. And a bank, which is why we stopped there. Extracted 1.6 million Ariary (about £350) from an ATM. Felt immensely rich again.

 

Standing out of the sun at a coffee stop, I peered backwards and saw the basic accommodation, with a bunk bed, that was the owner’s home. Got talking to the young woman when I noticed a big open sore on the side of her foot. She’d been bitten by a rat. A big rat. She said she’d been to the doctor and had an injection, but it clearly needed medical attention judging by the pus seeping out of the wound. Not for the first time I found myself grateful for the NHS.

And whenever we stopped, we attracted attention:

The landscape changed from rice paddies to plains:

Field fires burned unattended, clearing the scrub to encourage new shoots for the zebu to munch:

Through the Twyford Pass:

Isalo is the region of the Bara, one of the tribes with some of the more “unique” customs. For instance, each winter between Jul and Sep they “turn the bones” of their ancestors. Skeletons are dug up, the bones cleaned and then re-wrapped and re-buried. Another of their more bizarre rituals (from a western point of view, anyway) is that boys are circumcised between the age of 1 and 3 and the subsequent ceremony involves not only the obligatory zebu sacrifice, but also (warning: please brace your stomach) the consumption of the boys’ removed skin by the tribal chief. To my western mind, this borders on child abuse (because I assume the tribal chief is eating this skin for his own benefit, not the boys’). Some would defend it as “traditional”. Slavery is also “traditional”…

Zebu for dinner was the best yet – very much like beef, it was grilled to perfection. And it was followed by flavoured rum. Rum is a Malagsy speciality and is mixed with a variety of flavours such as mango, ginger (today’s samples), baobab, lemon, pear, banana, coffee and vanilla.

A long but interesting journey, and looking forward to another National Park tomorrow.

PS And this was definitely “bug of the day” (BOTD):