Around the world - Madagascar - Break day

Salame dear friends, family and the unknown but very welcome readers. I believe, my entry today is going to be rather expeditious for I am absolutely not inspired. I hope you will forgive me.

We spent the day in Fianarantsoa (or Fianar for the intimates!). Went for a walk into the town and after 4h of walking and not seeing much, we went back to the hotel. Fianar is the 2nd largest city divided into 3 parts: Lower town (Basse ville), New town (Nouvelle ville) & Upper town (Haute ville). The city is surrounded by hills and maybe except for the upper town, it is rather busy and chaotic. 

Today, more than ever - I get the impression that people here in Madagascar have no concept of beauty, sophistication, there is no real culture or history to explore and discover. Deforestation is killing the country very quickly, hygiene and health are just scary factors. Maybe that's why I'm not inspired today. All of that makes me feel sad and disappointed by the lack of will. They all just shake their shoulder and say "oh well, that's the way it is here in Mada".

After a quick pizza lunch break, we went to the train station to find out about the train (called FCE) for tomorrow. Unfortunately, we were informed that the train was broken (but in reparation) and we should come back the next morning at 6am to see if it would be ready or not. So the rest of the afternoon was really about taking it easy. 

The program of the day? Reading, eating fruits from today's market (which was huge, by the way!), taking a nap, watching a movie (Dead man down with the very handsome Collin Farrell), reading some more, getting ready for dinner in the dark because the whole town went into blackness mode with the loss of electricity. So we had yet another pizza because they couldn't cook without the electricity. And back we went to the reading and sleeping. 

The Fun fact of the day (the only one) would be this one - every time it was a prayer time (Muslim), a dog would "sing" along with the muezzin calling out. The dog didn't miss one single call, was right on time and sang through the whole procedure!

Poverty

A friend of mine asked me earlier on tonight if I wasn't too shocked by the poverty here in Madagascar. I answered immediately (without thinking) that I wasn't. I've been to poor countries before and to be very honest with you - I believe that you don't have to go far from your own habitat to bump into a poor person. 

But then I started thinking about it and realized something. The poor person here and the poor person in Europe - it's not the same at all. Maybe I took the wrong kind of European poor into my "to compare chart" but then again, I don't have the necessary details on the other categories. The differences between a homeless person in Europe (more precisely in France) and poor Malagasy people are many. EHP (European homeless people/person) are dirty. And so are PMP (poor Malagasy people/person). That will be probably the only point they have in common. EHP stink. PMP don't. EHP are aggressive. PMP are not. I have never seen an EHP be happy with the little they've got, they are always grumpy. I have never seen a PMP without a smile on their lips. EHP will not try to earn money to live better, they will beg and when you don't give them money - they will insult you. PMP works hard all day, every day, from the age of 8 (on a serious level) until the day they die and at the end of the day they will share the little they have with their friends and families. And if tourists cross their path, they will show them how hospitable they can be by sharing their last drop of coffee. 

So, no - the poverty does not shock me. The way people behave about it is a different matter. Some will stay discreet. And some will play the tune I'm poor (as opposed to "you are rich" and not "you are not"), give me your money because I'm poor. And they will sing that song until you no longer hear it to feel sorry for them. Don't get me wrong. I am not a heartless person. I give. And I give a lot. And I don't even expect anything in return other than a thank you and some respect. But I give when I want to, when I feel it can change things a little. I'd rather make a donation to a school than give a pen to a kid directly (the kid is in obligation to forward it to their elder!). Or to a hospital. All those men who just walk by me and ask me for my money. Why? Why should I give it to them? Because they said hello? Welcome? I'm poor? I'm sorry, I don't think so. I'm carrying a 15kg backpack, I'm huffing and puffing walking through the village under their very hot sun and all they do is ask for my money. And that shocks me more than the fact that they are poorer than me. That maybe they go to sleep with an empty stomach and I don't. But at the end of it, I feel like I gave a lot. I eat their food, I drink their water, I take their public transportation, I sleep in their houses. And I pay higher price than they do. Yes, it probably goes into the wrong pockets. But there isn't much I can do about it.

The fact is: yes, we are lucky because we can save money to travel little faster than them. People in Madagascar can work for 20 years and still won't be able to save enough to discover even their own country (with their whole family). Yes, that can be the down side of having a big family. But I truly believe that no matter our origin, we create our luck and we can sometimes "force" our destiny. Is that a snob thing to say or feel? You decide.

Around the world - Madagascar - Wanna fight or go for a ride?

This morning, my travel companion spiced up the breakfast. How one can spice up a breakfast, you may ask? Well, let's just say that some people get the best out of you and some get the worst out of you. In this case it wasn't all hugs and kisses. Well, a "kiss my ass" did come out of somebody's mouth? It's just that I am not into that kind of kissing!

As we were eating our breakfast calmly, few meters away from us - another table with 3 people seated next to it. Unfortunately for us, they were more busy talking loudly on the phone than emptying their plates. And that's how it all started. Sri Lanka VS France pissing contest has began. If I wanted to be rude I would just say: "who's got a bigger dick? Seriously, just get 'em out, put them on the fricking table to compare and get it over done with." One wanted peace and quit, the other one was loud and louder. When asked politely to maybe take the phone call outside so that way he wouldn't disturb that peace and quit (our and of the other guests), Sri Lanka man used all of the swear words that exist in the English vocabulary and started throwing insults towards the French (he thought I was one of them too) - he was mainly referring to the past events. He made sure we understood he was loaded and helping this country while we were less than nothing, killing this country. I truly dislike confrontations of this kind and I wished I was elsewhere but in that room. Thank God it never came to a physical fight otherwise I don't even want to imagine where we could have ended up!

After the heated early morning, we walked through the town to get to the bus station from where we needed to take the T-B to get to Fianarantsoa. But the heat must have travelled and when we arrived to the station, the fighting party wasn't over. So when it doesn't work with Sri Lanka, try a group of un-organized Malagasy people against one already very angry French male who just wants his seat! First it was the blue car, then it was the red one. Which is fine, as long as we've got our seats, right? Only then they wanted to put us into a third car that was almost empty and as you know, that means only one thing - you are about to wait for hours and hours, waiting for the car to fill up so that way it can leave. And that was out of the question. So we "fought" for our seats in the second car. So what that we had no legroom and the heat from the motor was burning our mozzicone?!

What I do not understand - and every time I see this while in a T-B, it hits me - people get sick while they are driven from one town to another. The road is bad, the space in the car is small if existent, the air is hot. Take that and add a travel sickness to it and what do you get? Lots of vomiting people. I get the fact that one can be sick in a car, on a boat, on a plane. What I do NOT get is - why would you want to spend your money on food, eat it just before the car hits the road and repeat this every time the car takes a break? It's money thrown into thin air, totally wasted. And it's not as if they had money to waste in this country!

Like a chameleon, I adapt. I adapt to the weather, I adapt to the mentality of people who surround me, I adapt to the "little" or to the "lot" I've got, I adapt to the food, I do my best to adapt to the traditions. I adapt when I have the electricity, I adapt when I have internet connection. Or when I do not have them. Today, in Fianar, we've got it all. The comfort of a beautiful big room, the comfort of hot water, the comfort of electricity, the comfort of being connected via network. And I enjoyed all of it. Plus a delicious zucchini soup, pizza (yes, I do eat those too from time to time), hot lemongrass tea, pancake with dark Malagasy chocolate and I topped it all by watching an episode of Luther. I took some of you on the ride with me. And what a blast!!!

Around the world - Madagascar - Trekking day N°3 - Encounters

Today I'm gonna start on a slightly negative note. Not only I was kept awake during the night because of the cockroaches but after the agitated night and very little sleep, I found out that I was rudely eaten by bed lice. Or at least I hope it wasn't anything else that could get me into trouble health wise. Why do they never eat what is not essential to you though?! They could munch on the extra fat and cellulite but no, they choose the better parts, tender and smooth! I've got bites all over me. And believe me when I say, I'm in one hell of an itch!

Last night, we decided to modify our schedule for today just a bit. The guide wanted to take us to visit water falls but he said we couldn't "shower" in them and that we would be seeing it from the top instead of from the bottom and that the walk was gonna be super difficult and that it was organized for the tourists. Now. Don't get me wrong. I love water falls and I am not afraid of the difficult walk either. But that seemed like 4h of hard work for not much and even though we are tourists, there is nothing that is sadder than natural sights that are turned into a tourist trap. And so we prefered to visit yet another village but in the other direction.

After a good hour of walking we arrived on the top of a hill from which we had an overview of the whole village. With only few houses and little under 100 habitants, very quickly we knew we made the right decision. And our encounter with Mr. Antoine, 84 years old confirmed it even quicker. He is and has been the village chief for a very long time. He lives in a house made out of stone - the only one in the village and the only one I've seen here so far. He built the house himself, along with the help of other villagers and his family. It took him about a year to do so because he needed to find the right material. And how did he know how to build one? Well, everybody here builds their own houses - only they are wooden houses. It goes as far as the 1947 invasion. In the 1947 French and Senegalese soldiers invaded the country. I am not going to into details of this even as war does not attract me much. Mr. Antoine was only 18 years old then but he was intelligent and well educated, well spoken. And that saved him from a certain death. He was lucky, very lucky. He was "only" thrown into a prison, where the soldiers kept him alive so that way he could help them with the attack and defense strategies. He became friends with a French soldier called Leroy, who (after the peace has been "restored") stayed in the village and participated in building church and a school for them. Mr. Antoine has been responsible for his village for many years, with his wife they had 9 children and he now has 18 grand children. He shared his cold and Oh-So-Delicious coffee with us and every time we asked a new question, his eyes sparkled and his whole body (and mind) became fully awake and alive with his past life souvenirs. It was mesmerizing to watch and I was almost sad when it was the time to leave.

We went back to Sakaivo to have a quick lunch, to pick our backpacks up and off we went to affront the last part of our return journey. And what a killer walk it was!!! Imagine half meter tall stair steps and imagine 1h of them. Nothing to hold on to, stairs ahead of you, stairs under you. Add the heat from the sun and you now have the full picture. At the end of the stairs, a huge cross. Was that supposed to say something to us? Other than the cross, a strong wind was waiting for us up there. But since we still had 2 hours of walk ahead of us, we didn't stop and carried on. It was a smooth and refreshing walk, full of questions and answers about my gymnastic past. It was fun.

As we approached the village from which we departed 3 days ago, I was joined by a dozen of children. Between them - Albert. After he desperately tried to sell me his wooden objects (without success), I told him we should talk about his dreams and plans in the future. And so the question and answer games began again. Albert is 10 years old and he wants to become a teacher. Preferably of the French language. And I must say, that his french is not bad at all for such a small guy. Oh, talk about the "size" - he has a theory why Malagasy people are so short. And obviously, I was all ears to hear it!!! He, with the deepest conviction, believes that they are short because they eat sweet potatoes. In his theory, the people from a city are taller because they eat cheese, fish and meat and sandwiches. And because they don't have access to those, that's why people in villages are short. All of his friends laughed at him, I smiled and asked if it was his teacher who told him. I think I offended him right there. He pumped up his small chest and declared at the top of his lungs: "no, I have a mind on my own and this is entirely my own thinking!" And so we talked about the impact of various food elements on our body parts. It is amazing to see a kid curious and hungry for more information.

Now, as soon as we came back to Ambositra, I hit the bathroom. I haven't washed, I haven't combed my hair, I have been walking in dust and sweating like crazy for 3 days. And I am NOT ashamed to say, that I filled the bathtub with warm water and took a long bath. The tub was blue when I went in, and rusty muddy when I got out of it. When I took my socks off - I could have lit a match next to them and eradicate the whole village.

And as a result of being in the wild for 3 days, I got a very full lips out of it! I say, who needs Botox?!?!?! Just go out, get the sun and wind in your face and that will do da trick fo' ya!

The smell of the day would be a mixture of grass, plants, flowers and burned earth. There is something very male about it. Somebody should put it into a bottle and sell it as a perfume! I would be the number one buyer. Promise!

Around the world - Madagascar - Trekking day N°2 - Redder than the earth I walk on

6:30am - time to wake up, eat the breakfast and head out for yet another trip to paradise. That was the plan anyway. Instead, the guide who had 5 too many glasses of rum last night (I believe that equaled to almost a half liter), woke up at 7am, gave order to the others to prepare our breakfast and only then we could leave. And that happened exactly at 8am, 1h behind the schedule. Which is quite normal if you have to run through the whole village to see if they have coffee beans, to grill them slightly, to ground them and then cook the coffee. Fun for us but not much for them from what I've seen.

I was quite glad to see the sky clouded because that meant less heat during the very difficult walk. But I assure you, this didn't last. Even though some clouds stayed, the sun always managed to pierce through (this reminds me of surely a jewel of this year! - has Bong Joon Ho's Snowpiercer movie come out yet? - yes, I'm asking you and you know exactly who you are!). Oh, how I could do with Hokkaido's snow right now!!! I'm a bit jumpy in my text today, my most sincere apologies.

We arrived rather quickly to the first village of the day - Vohitrandriana and stayed there for little over 90min talking with Tiana (yes, that's the way one spells his name but you still pronounce is Tina). While he talked, we sat on the tiniest footstools I've ever seen. Homemade, that goes without saying. And highly used. I have actually learned that the round ones can be turned feet up and you can cut your food on it, then turn the feet down again and sit on it. Quite ingenious if you want to know my deepest thoughts. So there we were, sitting in a tiny house on a tiny stools, listening to Tiana talking about exhumation, rotating the dead. Again, to make a long story short - when a person dies, there is a traditional ceremony. They eat a lot, drink a lot and dance a lot and when they are done with it, they put the deceased into a family tomb. Five years later, they will disinter the dead in order to change her or his old and damaged clothes, eat, drink, dance and talk with the spirit of the deceased. Well, I think I'm gonna make it into a long story after all. This ceremony is called Famadihana. Family and friends will walk sometimes long miles to get to the family tomb to participate in it. Old ladies wait at the entrance, wearing their straw hats. Middle aged men indulge in lethal home-made rum and dance (jerkily, apparently) to the rhythms of the band. One by one the corpses will be brought out, wrapped in straw mats and danced above the heads of the joyful crowd. The bodies will be rewrapped usually in pristine white burial scarves called lambas, they will be sprayed with perfume and meticulously labelled by name. Sometimes they can be cleaned before all of this and it will be all done with the biggest endearment there is, as if it was a newborn. Everybody will want to touch and talk to the ancestors and so they will take turns.  It is all in the purpose of reminding a good souvenir of the collectivity, to enjoy his/her presence and to ask him/her an advise or protection and then make his return to "au-delà" more comfortable. This can last 2 to 3 days. After that the bodies are danced one more time around the tomb, a few verses (traditional) are read out and the stone is sealed with mud for another 5 to 7 years. Depends on many different factors of life or actually, depends on who's telling you about traditions and ceremonies because believe me - it is not a fix story! This ceremony takes place between July and September. A tourist can eventually attend one but only as long as your visit is arranged through a local tour company or hotel. Obviously, taking a picture of such tradition is highly unwelcome.

As you can imagine, this took a while to talk about and so when Tiana saw the time, we rushed out of the house and off we went to the next village - Andraitokonana. That was the village where our guide showed us his extra-but-not-ordinary talents in the kitchen. He made us pasta with a ton of margarine, oil, onions, carrots & cheese. Put them in the wrong order and you lose the cheese because it will get glued on the bottom of the casserole, the onions will be raw and nothing very linked together. Then put an egg on the top of the greasy mountain of very well cooked pasta and you can start hmmm-ing about how "yummy" it tastes! Like nothing you have ever tasted before. As diplomatic as I can sometimes be, I ate maybe 3 mouth full spoons of this absolutely fat free dish and said with "Puss the Boots" kind of eyes that if I ate any more than that I would fall asleep while walking and he would have to carry me. That, I believe, did the trick!

And so off we went to yet another village. Tetezandroitra, slightly bigger than the previous one but oh so much smaller than the one that followed afterwards. Since the sun came back and we started our walk about 5min after we have ingested that unforgettable meal (at 12:30 dare I to say), it was not very motivating. The walk was beautiful but hotter than hot and since I was preoccupied with my digestive system (which is working perfectly well, thank you very much!) - I forgot to put the sunblock on my ears. Big mistake, let me tell you that much. My left ear has turned into a painfully red color. Redder than the earth I have been walking on throughout the last few days.

At 5:30pm we finally arrived to our final destination - Sakaivo - a huge village that is most certainly heading towards a touristy future. Feels rich, feels frequented, feels almost modern. The children, comparing to other villages we have been to, are not shy at all around us. Quite the contrary. Feisty little things they are! There must be around 700 people living there and I must say, I felt like I fell into a bee's hive.

I felt exhausted and I must admit of not wanting to mingle with people at that point and so I didn't. Waited for dinner while I read a book and just chilled with a cup of hot tea. That felt nice! Now, do you remember the chicken we bought on the market before we left? That's what we were supposed to have for dinner. But where the chicken went, will remain a mystery to me. I saw exactly 2 very skinny chicken drumsticks that were charred as if they were carrying a disease and they had to get rid of it by grilling it to the bone. Nah well, but I guess that is another story. At least the pine tree smell remained in my nostrils and made me feel better as I went to sleep.

Around the world - Madagascar - Trekking day N°1 - Piece of cake. Next?

9:40am - We met our guide Tina (I still can't wrap my head around the fact he's got a female name!) at 7:30am and he took us to the most important market of the town of the week. People from surrounding villages come to this market to both sell and buy. It can be food, utensils for the garden, knives, clothes from china or handmade crafts and arts (wood, raffia)... People from here usually buy meat once a week and consume at once because they cannot really store it and it's rather expensive for them to waste it. We bought a chicken (a very alive one!) for 4000Ar. I really don't know who's gonna kill it and get rid off the feathers but surely it should be "fun".

In a regular village of no matter how many people, 80% will work within agriculture world and 15% will be artisanal, 60% are children. But it surely feels like more when you see them all over the place.

Even though the first day was physically challenging for me, I managed to survive. I'll tell you something though - never trust your friends when they tell you that it's gonna be a piece of cake when it comes to trekking in Madagascar. The country is everything BUT flat. I don't know what is more exhausting - the steep way up or the steep way down?! The sun was very high and very hot throughout the whole day, there wasn't one single tree kindly landing a shadow that we could've enjoyed. Yes, there is a gentle breeze most of the time and that's highly pleasant. So, now that I bitched and moaned (yes, I do say the "b" word occasionnally!), let me tell you about the day and what I have learned. Well, let me try anyway because there are so many things I would like to write about but so little energy left to do so.

We left Ambositra by a car, we rode to our departure village called Antoctra. Nothing very charming, it is really just a strategic crossroad for people to go either left or right. As soon as we arrived there, the kids were all over us asking us for 2 things. First to give them our bottle of water they believed empty and second to come and visit their atelier. They work mainly with wood and don't have many opportunities to sell their craft. Why is it always so heart breaking to refuse them your money? The other day, went I was at Tritriva lake, one of the hawker girls asked me for the money by buying something from her, then when I wasn't giving in she asked me to offer her my T-shirt. Obviously they play with the fact that school is expensive and they work in order to be able to get education. I joked by saying that if I had to give something to every single person who asked me for help, I would surely be already fully naked, that even my underwear would be gone because of my generosity. The kids laughed and said I could keep my undies but I should still give them some money. And so, as the biggest sucker of this earth that I am, I did.

Shortly after we started our walk, we arrived to Vatolahy - proud memorial stones are standing there and that's where they do sacrifices or should I say offerings for the deceased but only important people of the past. It isn't very far from the village and it's close enough to the road. Enough of frequency for the deceased to be remembered for their good deeds.

While we enjoyed the view and chilled, Tina told us about the school system in Madagascar. The first things first and unfortunately this goes almost without saying when it comes to poor countries. Boys are more useful in the field and so the girls attend the school more then them. The system in itself is very similar to the french school system. The primary school, the college are always in the village or very near by. Starting from the lyceum, the kids have to travel to a further village to get appropriated education. And then if they want to go to university, they'll go as far as 700 km away from their hometown and their families. The public primary school will cost the family 10.000Ar per year per child. If, none the less, they wish to put the child into a private school (there will be a religious education on the top of "public" way of educating), they will have to pay somewhere between 6.000-12.000Ar per month. Knowing that people earn something around 30€ per month, the cost for (even the) private school seems derisoire. Yet, their excuse number 1 for not putting the kids to school is the money.

It took us 4 exhausting hours and a short lunch break to get to Ankidodo village and I must tell you - it was a big plus for the others to walk well ahead of me because my non olympical shape was putting me into a very foul mood. OMG where are the times when I could do 4h (and more) of intensive training without breaking a sweat!?!?! Where did my endurance go? Now you put me in front of a hill and I'm KO just looking at it. While we had our lunch break, Tina told us about the traditional Malagasy wedding. To make a long story short - the broom gets financially broke even before he gets the woman. He needs to ask the parents of his future wife for the permission to marry her and then they put him through a test filled with tricky questions. In the South of Madagascar, the boy must steal a zebu to prove himself worthy. Ehm, go and figure how a thief is a good party for your child!

Now, Ankidodo is the most charming little place I've ever seen. In the middle of nowhere, without electricity, without water in the house. But they have everything else. Gorgeous wooden handmade houses, garden full of veggies and fruit trees, ducks, chicks, geese, turkey, pigs who live in harmony, they have and share love, complicity, fun, friendship, soon a football terrain. 150 people living there and more than half = kids!!! They were shy but curious. Smiling more than gladly, and as we were leaving the village, waving us goodbye like crazy. Before we got to Ankidodo, I thought I would just throw myself on the ground and let the boys carry me to our final destination. But that village recharged my batteries and I shall never forget its magic.

Another 90min of walk and we arrived to Faliarivo village (at 5:30pm). I must say that the more we walked, the greener the scenery got. Not to my dislike, I'll admit more than happily. I love all of the shades of green trapped under the blue and pink sky. The sun was going slowly but surely down and it was suddenly all worth the minerals that left my body through the sweat, it was worth the imaginary tears of frustration I cried. The dinner was royal - hot chocolate to drink, peanuts to munch on, arranged rum to taste (don't be so shocked, I had nowhere to hide and had to try it!). And then when we were almost full, noodle soup with eggs arrived. And after that a huge portion of rice with zebu steak and tomatoes. And when we thought it was all over and we could take no more, half a pineapple was sitting bravely in front of us. It's 9pm and I'm off to bed. The toothbrush will have to wait until the morning. The face is gonna stay covered in Malagasy dust, Slovak sweat and the feet are gonna stay stinky. But who cares? It was an awesome day.

Around the world - Madagascar - From point A to point A

Yesterday I told you about the grace of Malagasy people running and today I had little over 3h to observe that Malagasy people are indeed very patient. They also help each other and so far I haven't seen them agitated over something. When it's needed, they will wait in line. When they drive, they will honk but only to let the others know they are behind or about to go ahead of you. Even the hawkers will give it a rest if you respond kindly that you are not interested. If, never the less, you tell them "maybe" or "later" - they will come back and try their luck again. Patiently. Not aggressively. And once you start discussing the price with one, the others will leave you to your business. Respectfully.

It's 2pm and we have been waiting for the T-B to fill up for several hours already. You need to know that if there are 15 seats, they all need to be payed for, they need to be taken. There are no arrival nor departure time schedules as the T-B is the cheapest way to travel. If your driver is one of the younger generation, there will be music. Blasting into your ears for hours. You just take it because... Well, because you have no choice, really. And while you wait for your ride to be ready, you will see all sorts or cakes, bread, fruits, veggies, meat, ice cream, iced fruit juices but also items such as shoes, games, cuisine utensils, batteries, lamps, irons! coffee machine and many more pass by. They are all for sale. Up to you to decide whether you want to start a chain reaction of the sell/buy craziness.

6pm. The road between Antsirabe and Ambositra is gorgeous. Very colorful, peaceful, curvy, smokey at times as they burn the earth to make it more fertile. And that would cast the most amazing natural filter to whatever the sun was touching. The red would become golden red, the green would sparkle, all of the colors would come alive in fact, their other life...

Ambositra is located in the center of a very broad valley, surrounded by green peaks. It seems a lot quieter and much more charming than Antsirabe. That's my first impression anyway. It took us little over 2h to get here, so it wasn't tiresome and it allowed us to take it easy this evening. You are definitely getting away from the world here. The town is at 1350m of altitude, rustic and very arty and crafty from what I hear and read. We decided to take a guided trek starting from tomorrow, so we had a little briefing with Mr Tina, the guide. He's picking us up tomorrow 7:30am to take us to the market and then we'll hit the road again. On foot, this time. The program seems quit physical but lots of fun awaits us, so it's all good. Can't actually wait to get started. Muscles, get ready 'cause this is gonna hurt!!!