Up to Speed on Madagascar

November 25: Got into Antananarivo, the capital of Madagascar, and paid for my visa and headed towards my connecting flight to Tulear via Fort Dauphin. When I went to grab my bag, I was surrounded by five Malagasy airport attendants who picked up the bag and guided me thirty feet towards the check-in counter. In the process, one of them asked for my passport and ticket, which I showed him, and when we reached the counter he demanded 10 USD – significantly higher than the average Malagasy daily wage. I demanded my passport, which he begrudgingly gave to me, and then gave him five bucks and told him that his help hadn’t been needed in the first place. One of them wouldn’t leave, so I eventually gave him a buck. So, all in all, they were the mostly costly porters that I have ever paid. Then, when I was in line waiting to confirm my ticket to Tulear, a Malagasy woman shoved herself in front of me and pulled her less-rude husband along with her to my space at the next available counter. Not a good introduction to the Malagasy as a people.

When I got into Tulear, now out of the plains of central Madagascar and near the ocean, stepping off the plane was my introduction to the most humid conditions I have ever experienced. Walking here is almost akin to wading, and I sweat continually and profusely.

I was met at the airport by a diminutive Malagasy woman who introduced herself as Christina, one of the Reef Doctor staff. The people here are an interesting mix of facial features and shades but are generally short in stature, with the men being on average around 5’7’’ and the women just over five feet. The island was originally settled by Indians and Asians, landing on the eastern shores of the island. Later (and no, I don’t have exact dates for you – Internet is a luxury so you will have to Wikipedia on your own) Africans landed on the western shore, and Madagascar has since become a melting pot of ethnicities.

Christina checked me into my hotel and then showed me around the town of Tulear and I got some ariary, the Madagascar currency (1500 AR is approximately 1 CDN – interesting note: One of only two non-decimal currency systems in the world. Again, if interested in the other, wikipedia) and then went out for pizza (topped with boiled eggs) and beer at a local outdoor restaurant. French is spoken by the educated in the bigger centres, though in the villages Malagasy is almost solely spoken, the dialect depending upon the region of the country. My uni-lingualism is again an impediment, and even more so than in Ethiopia, with everyone expecting me to be able to speak French.

November 26: Christina met me at my hotel at 8AM and we headed out to get my passport copied and officially signed, and did some shopping in the market. When we went to the government office for the passport work, we travelled in a rickshaw, what they call a pous-pous, and while the seat barely fit the two of us, it was an interesting experience, for me if not for the operator, who would have been used to lighter passengers.

After the errands, we loaded up our luggage on a taxi-brousse and then waited for an hour for the little Mazda to fill to three times its carrying capacity. We had gotten there early enough to reserve the coveted front seat, which we shared with the driver, while the rest of the fifteen or so passengers sat in the box, facing one another as they sat on two long bench seats – as long as bench seats could be in the back of a single-cab Mazda. It terms of distance, the road was 27 kms, and in terms of time, it was just under 2 hours. We stopped twice, once to pump up a tire, and the second time to change it. During the second stop, I saw a little boy, probably three years old, beating on a chameleon in the middle of the road with the stick. His sister got him to stop, and it drunkenly waddled under the truck and climbed onto a drooping leaf spring. In a couple of seconds I could see it changing colour, and then the driver got his own stick, knocked it off and flicked it fifty feet into the bush. Chameleons are apparently not well respected.

When we finally got into the village of Ifaty, and then into the Reef Doctor main house, I was laconically greeted by Shawn, the director of the program – who didn’t give his name – and told to head to the volunteer hut as it is currently siesta, and nothing was happening then anyway. Apparently every weekday from 12 noon to 2:30 is siesta, with the weekends just being one long siesta. This does not make for very efficient working conditions, but it does make for a relaxing “work” week.

I walked into the volunteer hut – about 35 feet long and 15 feet wide – and was greeted by four college-aged women who apparently are my roommates. My bed is off in the corner, but aside from mosquito netting, there is really no privacy to speak of. They are leaving over the next few weeks, with the first leaving tomorrow, and then I will have the hut to myself.

Anne, the volunteer coordinator, escorted me into the village where I signed President Bruno’s logbook. Every village, no matter how small, has a president who oversees all of what goes on in the village. Bruno likes to keep tabs on those around his village, and as Reef Doctor staff and volunteers live within the general vicinity of the village, everyone new person must go and pay their respects and sign their name and enter their contact information into his logbook.

Since one of the volunteers left the next day, most of the staff went out for drinks and dancing at a tiny little bar in Ifaty, about a twenty minute walk from the main house. It seemed like a late night, but when I headed back, it was about 10:30, and then the real party animals stumbled back around 11. Morning comes early around here, with the boat heading out at 6 in the morning to catch enough calm water for a couple of dives.

November 27: Got up at 7 and headed up to the dining hall. It was remarkably quiet, as the majority of people were obviously nursing hangovers. No one has yet to give me any directions or shown me a schedule of what I can expect in the coming weeks, but that is in part because I am here during a time of transition. The director and the dive master are both leaving, with their replacements here already and trying to get into the swing of things. I headed off snorkelling by myself and say about a half-a-dozen different types of fish, some eels and a starfish. The snorkelling is supposed to be terrible here due to intensive over-fishing (hence Reef Doctor) so I am really looking forward to going to see some of the reserved no-fishing zones which are supposed to me incredible.

After lunch I decided I would give the siesta a shot and ended up sleeping for over four hours. I’ve had a bit of a fever since my time in the Johannesburg airport, as well as the flu and indigestion, so it was good to get some more rest. I woke up and headed up to the main house where I started the review of my Open Water Dive Manual. The plan is that I will be diving Tuesday of next week, so I am to have the book work done by then.

The food is fairly simple fare, with lots of rice and potatoes, but there is no question of quantity. There is also a lot of fruit, like pineapples, mangoes, papayas, bananas, plums and peaches, all fresh and all significantly more succulent than in any Canadian supermarket.

You are now up to speed, and I will hopefully be posting near-daily updates. While I still feel that the majority of blogging is nothing but socially-acceptable navel-gazing, I hope this is interesting - and that I will be able to make it interesting - for those who drop in from time to time. Feel free to leave a comment, or drop me an email.