Madagascar - March 4-14

Quite late, but I finally had enough free time after unpacking all my boxes from moving here 8 years ago. Don't know how I  got anything done before I retired. 
This trip report was done by Randy. Madagascar was on his bucket list for years  and when he first started looking round trip prices were $3200, they dropped to $799 and that is when he asked if Bret and I wanted to go.

Randy on Left, Bret on right. We are having dinner at Brets' after finally getting back.

All three of us have been to Ecuador several times. We immediately jumped in. Flight was Minneapolis to Montreal to Paris to ‎Antananarivo, capital of Madagascar. As soon as we got off the plane we were all forehead scanned for elevated temperature related to COVID-19. No one seems to have failed the test. 35 Euros to pay for the entrance visa. Randy almost didn't make it thru customs because we didn't have an exact address of the Airbnb we were staying at. Our host had the appropriate signage as we left the terminal. Panhandlers are very aggressive in grabbing your luggage off the carousel, I ended up giving out 15 Euros just to get my luggage back. Our guide with car was 50 Euros a day, unless you were staying at a resort this was absolutely necessary. Driving these roads would be dangerous for all the pedestrians that cover 3/4s of the roads. Liberal taps on the horn are the required signal to the pedestrians.
I added pictures and a few comments. 
The rest of this is Randy's trip notes, wonderfully done:
The ride to the Airbnb was about 15min over a dark convoluted route through a dark other world. There are few to no streetlights in the city, the trip was mostly through small twisting alleys with big piles of garbage. We arrived at the walled compound of our host. We were greeted, unloaded and shown around. It is a beautiful modern three story house.

Courtyard

Courtyard, you can see the large metal gate for car entry

Our place, we spent evenings smoking cigars and drinking rum on the balcony. 3 bedrooms on second floor, didn't even need to use the third floor. All for $30 a night.

The host turns out to be a prominent architect and her husband the biggest movie star in Madagascar, both warm and friendly but not strong English speakers. 

We say goodnight and go inside to unwind (it is now about 1 am). We eventually retire to our lovely rooms, about 1:30 there is this very loud braying noise, a donkey must be very nearby. I resolve to find this creature. 

I rise early, go open the compound’s big metal gate and begin walking, I walk down a hill toward one of the many large rice paddies, needless to say I draw a small crowd and lots of stares. My purpose besides exploring was to find a shop to purchase some instant coffee because I know that is a necessary part of some people’s morning. I find a “shop” basically a closet with a tiny old lady. Thru gestures only I place my order, however I only have US and Euros, so no sale. I returned to the house with no coffee and no donkey sighted. 

I had forgotten that breakfast was included and it was waiting when I arrived, so those guys got their coffee, however they were still in bed. 

After breakfast around 10:00, the son or son in law comes and we understand his question to be if we need anything. We get across that we need a cash machine, water, beer and rum. He signals us to follow, he leads us through narrow dark dirty alleys where the faint of heart would not go.

This is the painting station where artists paint Madagascar scenes to sell to tourists. You can see the really famous Baobabs being created.

More artists.  This is two blocks from our Airbnb. Notice the trash covering half the roadway.

We score our shopping list, Bret volunteered to be the rum purchaser, he procured two bottles that he did not look closely at, one was typical the other looked as if something had regurgitated in the bottom, we drank it anyway (it turned out to be an infusion of vanilla beans and a mushy peach, I think).

The vanilla bean is obvious, the sludge on the bottom is not.

We had scheduled a driver for the afternoon. A 25 yr old who went by Hery, he arrived in a nice looking van and could speak some English. We said we wanted to go to the center of Tana, look around and have lunch. Tana is a huge city of about 5 million. We were staying on the NW corner so it was quite a drive. 

We arrived through the maze of traffic and crowds to the main plaza, Hery picked a restaurant we had a nice meal and strolled out into a huge plaza. Since this was the off season and there were no other Caucasians we were immediately swooped down upon and offered countless trinkets and things plus beggars and no doubt pickpockets.(Randy conveniently left out the tale of the pickpocket because his wife is the first editor of this and he doesn't want her to think there was any real danger here and prevent future trips.) We were surrounded and harassed by at least 6-8 people trying to sell us stuff at all times. As we were getting back to the car Randy noticed that the folded Euros he had in his shirt pocket were gone, not really concerned about that, he also had his credit card clipped with them. But as he got in the car he looked in the outside pocket of his shoulder satchel and there was his credit card. We immediately thought of these extremely smart pickpockets, knowing that credit cards are useless to them but if the mark keeps his he can resupply and be available for the next pickpocket.  Telling this to friends they immediately disputed our version of events, saying that Randy obviously put the card in the satchel for safekeeping prior to the theft. When we finally read the guidebook that night on the marketplace they warned of rampant pickpockets.
And now back to Randy's comments.

We decided to go back to the place. Our lack of sleep is beginning to have an influence. Returning the way we came I got disorientated and totally misjudged the length of the trip. 

Bret and I were in the back and my misjudgement and comments were drawing Bret into my paranoia, I was certain not only that we had driven too far but also in the wrong direction. I said we need to go west and yet our driver kept turning east whenever he could. 

This seems to continue for a half an hour Bret and I kept saying “apartment that way”, our driver doesn't seem to understand and only nods his head. Now I believe he was saying to himself “who are these two whiney bitches in the back”. Our minds are reeling, now what, about then Dean recognizes the neighborhood. We are home in minutes. 

We pay the driver and ask him to return tomorrow. We slink out of the van and we should have done a jackass bray, we had an evening of humble laughter. 

I found out that fatigue turns me into a real know it all, first day, new country, new city, ughh. Get some sleep boys. 

Day two:

Day one still had drinks and cigars on the great 2nd floor balcony alas that day ends. Off to slumber, 12:30 am the braying comes and goes and day two begins. 

Considering the physiological need to rest I wake at 3:30 am? I go down stairs and wander out on the veranda where I discover the source of the braying. It was a beautiful warm starry night with a couple dogs barking far away. I speak to the resident canine and he wags his tail, walks out onto the drive, he contorts his face and begins a perfect donkey bray. In the morning I tell my fellow travelers and we never heard it again. 

Breakfast and plans. We choose a low key day out of town. Our driver arrives and is anxious to show us the Queens Palace. We have decided that we are Lemur refuge bound. But first the money changers.

The 12 passenger white van is the bus transportation in this city of 5 million. You enter/exit thru the back door. Unless a lot of people are getting on or off, the bus doesn't stop.

We must go to the airport to exchange US, Dean needed euros. I wanted some more Ariary. The Ariary is a beautiful paper currency, colorful, arty, and hard to get use to. The bills range from 100Ar to 20,000Ar with the conversion that means 100Ar=2.7c and 20000Ar =$5.38 which is the largest bill that you can carry. The ATM limit is 200,000 to 300,000--$53 or $79. What it means is that you walk around with a pocket full of 10,000 and 20,000 bills. The next is from Dean(At one point they had coins down to 2 Ari, .054 cents. which gives you an idea of the level of commerce and poverty here,75% of the population living on less than $1.90 per day. Madgascar is 8th poorest in the world,
GNI per capita: $1,339 • 2017 GDP: $36.2 billion • Population: 25.6 million • Life expectancy at birth: 66.3 years)

Th Ari conversion we carried all the time in order not to get shocked at the high numbers

Ariary back 26 cents

Ariary front 26 cents

We trek west along a large river. Saturday must be extra market and laundry day, the street is packed, cars, minibuses, human cart pullers, rickshaws, and people walking(crowds moving) and Zebu(cows) carts.

On the other side of the bank is the water where the washing is done. Clothes are laid on the grass on this side to dry

The pace is crawling slow enough for beggars to stay close and look at you with those eyes. 

The river is a vital area; it flows through a red clay valley where people make millions of red bricks by hand, there are continuous large and smaller piles. The waters are as red as the bricks and yet there are thousands of people bathing and doing laundry in this river they place the laundry on the banks to dry but somehow the clothing does not seem darkened by the water and this goes on for miles. 

Eventually we leave the pressure cooker and are in the green rolling hills. The sense of relief is wonderful. The lemur refuge was a calming place, lunch, nature, quiet, walking.

A very small baobab tree at the lemur refuge

More baobabs, the really famous ones at the Avenue of the Baobabs(maybe 25 trees) are a two day drive away.

Bamboo lemur

Family of ring tailed lemurs

Common brown lemur

Sifakas

radiated tortoise

Feeling refreshed (somewhat) we head back to the city, the traffic has diminished. In the distance high on a hill you can see the formidable Queens Palace, Hery still wants to take us there but we need to go home. 

Thus far the weather has been comfortable to warn. Soon a rain storm greets us, Hery and Dean must roll up their windows and the van immediately fogs into invisibility, Hery keeps driving in the crazy traffic, with a rag to wipe a part of the wind shield we weave along. We now learn about no air conditioning or even a blower in the van, more later. The rain stops and the windows go down and us white guys breathe easier. 

Home again, it must be cigar time. We have planned a four or five day excursion with Hery. Tomorrow we will leave the highlands and go toward the Indian Ocean. 

I must extoll this place. Gardens, breakfast, creatures, airport service, comfort things nicer than home, $30 a night,( $10 each).Via email, I inform our host of our impending absence even though we live next door email plus translation works the best. 

The enhanced adventure awaits us, on day three. 

Day three:

Turkey, chickens, guinea fowl, and a small boy arrive at the door, no doubt curious about our breakfast. Bret has decided to spend a bit more time in the bathroom this morning he emerges just a tad paler. 

Hery arrives and we load up. I instantly fall asleep and wake up pulling into the resort(Vakona Forest Lodge) located by Andasibe about 3 to 4 hours from Tana (nice nap). 

We check in, go to our beautiful bungalow which is built out over a lush ravine with a balcony facing the rainforest.

Exterior of cottage

Interior of cottage

This is a large resort with about 50 bungalows which are expertly built from local materials, just the tightly woven leaf roofs that are totally waterproof seem fascinating to me.There is a lodge with a game room and a great open air restaurant which is our destination. 

Dinner is accomplished, the next task is to grab some beers and head to the balcony for cigars and conversation. As darkness arrives we can hear rustling in the trees in the tree close to our smokey perch. We can see branches and leaves moving most likely a shy Lemur.

Our balcony

Our view out the balcony, that night we assume we had a nocturnal lemur in that tree.

The primary thing about traveling is of course the people. Madagascar has only had humans for about 1500 years. The first settlers were probably from Africa and Malaysia. Over time others from India, Arabia, etc. and eventually the colonial powers, primarily France. 

Their faces reflect the diverse mixing, I can't tell you what a Madagsy looks like except they are shorter, darker and skinnier than me. 

There are different classes, our host has $150,000 worth of nice vehicles. The people live in shacks and carry bags of produce, charcoal and water on their head, and they walk by the thousands, especially outside the city. 

We did not know where they came from or where they were going. Usually they are carrying something, or herding a few Zebu but they walk on the highway because there are no shoulders. Speaking of the road conditions, we are traveling on the main road(hell the only road) from Tana to Toamasina which will be our turn around point in a few days. 

Tomasina is the port city on the Indian Ocean, the road is about as wide as a dirt county road, it is kinda paved and the endless semi traffic pounds it into areas of rubble, pot holes and trenches.Sometimes one lane is so messed up that the traffic must pick its way along but hey this is the main road. 

I will elaborate more. Soon we go for lights out. We are not exactly sure of tomorrow;s plan we will trust Hery and it will become a high day, filled with some real things to write home about 

Day four:

A morning shower is in progress. This is the only time in Madagascar that we considered a raincoat. It did rain quite a lot but mainly at night or cloud bursts while we drove.We pack up head to checkout and breakfast. 

I believe the others had a continental breakfast, I order a fruit plate when available, I enjoy a lite breakfast and also to taste the native flavors.” Fruit it was”, plus espresso. The fare was typical banana, pineapple, some melon and a mysterious new one. A large gelatinous item, I have had something similar in Ecuador. 

I only need to tell myself it is like a pale vanilla pudding with seeds I was sweet plus the crunchy seeds, but not really my favorite texture. The pleasure surpassed that of watching my buddies eat frog legs and alligator balls in the Everglades. 

Hery arrives and we saddle up “to Lemur lake then to resort” we say sure. Drivers have a symbiosis with the hotels and resorts, he delivers the paying customers (especially in the slow season) and they feed and house him. There also seems to be “a girl in every port”. 

We leave the resort and turn north and he honks at a mademoiselle at a small hotel. This is a beautiful small road up through the rainforest, eventually we arrive in a small village with an elegant old railway station. The French colonizers built a narrow gauge system with great stone stations. The train operates once a day but only recently stopped passenger service much to our disappointment. 

Crossing the tracks and a questionable bridge, we go on to somewhere. Overhead we see a leaky 6” water pipe taking fresh water down the mountain. A small clearing with a sign saying “gulf here’. End of the trail we come to a small lake with another well designed resort. We are told we need to buy tickets for Lemur lake, still not fully sure what’s going on.

Bridge to resort where we buy our tickets

We oblige and get back in the van. 

Turning around, we soon pull off into a small parking area. A guide meets us and leads us to the dock. Lemur lake is an area of 5 small artificial islands built behind a dam. Lemurs hate water; they don’t even drink water so no fences are needed here. 

The hand dug canals that make the islands are about a foot deep and 20 feet wide. We get into a canoe to go the twenty feet. 30 seconds later we disembark, I step on the island turn to check out the crew and instantly a common brown lemur was on my shoulder seeming to ask “ who are those guys” he drops a turd in my shirt pocket and leaps several feet onto Bret’s shoulder.

Brets' lemur

Canoeing to the island, double hulled plastic canoes.

Randys' lemur

Lemur shit in Randy's pocket

I got my own lemur

The lemur became my second favorite wild animal (these are mostly rescue animals), they seem to have the best traits of squirrels, cats and dogs. They look most like monkeys but are non aggressive, your food, camera, sunglasses are totally safe they just want a ride on your shoulder or hat through the forest. 

We meet another guide wearing a Minnesota Wild jersey and he has no clue. We canoe around an island back to the starting point. Our faces happy, we leave for the coast about 3 hours away down the mountain and soon back on the”main” road. 

An hour or so later I notice some agitation beside me and questions like “ is this the right road, where are we, when will we get to the main road”, our driver has learned to wisely ignore his passengers and the other 2 guys realize the situation and explain that this is the main road and we've been on it for some time. 

Down the lush curvy road going to Brickaville a grimey swollen intersection. If we were inroute be my chosen resort we would turn right, however I know our map is small and communications have some gaps. I realize the target is a different resort, We are relaxed, cool and collected.

Bought in Brickaville for 1000 Ari(26 cents); Rambutan

Rambutan, you bite off the peel, it is not spiky, tasty inside, throw away the pit.

Mountain apple, probably much closer to wild apples so don't expect taste like here in the US

The guide book says 10km out of Brickaville we turn right and proceed 7 km to the lake by the ocean. The turn is made and we immediately pass a small resort, go a few hundred yards and plunge into the jungle, the guide book says a two wheel drive vehicle can make it if it is not too muddy. 

We soon emerge onto clear cut landscape in the hazey distance we think we see the ocean; our mission now is to follow this cow path. Rocks, holes, washouts, hills, mud my truck would have turned itself around. Gravity is on our side (today) deep holes on the left then deep holes on the right, our torsos are lunging sideways while we go 3 miles an hour. We do get an occasional reprieve, we can loosen our grip some.

The 'road' coming in. 7 kilometers of this

Notice the attempts at drainage/curbs

Getting closer now there are trees and grass huts, we come to what seems to be an abandoned wooden bridge, my instinct is to get out but we cross holding our breath. 

We did successfully cross this bridge, We were all holding our breaths.

 

Our bungalow

Soon we park at Acacias Bungalows, we find the darkened lobby and startle the young receptionist, she wants to show us our options, now the priorities change, one vigorous traveler requests immediate directions. The remaining upright chose the best bungalow.

Our view over Lac Rasoabe from Les Acacias Bungalows. On the other side of land on the left side is the Indian Ocean

Sometime later we reunite, settle in and then proceed to the restaurant and either order a light lunch or just beverages down on the beach of lake Rasoabe. We go change and swim in the warm fresh water along the white sand beach. This being the off season we are the only guests we are treated very well, however the water and electricity is not turned on in the bungalows about the time we were going to inquire that changes for at least a few hours, a strange combo of 12v and 220v. 

Dinner was relaxed and delicious as I recall plus our last cigars on the beach. We savor this wonderful day we are now over halfway through our tale. If we knew what the next two days held we may have not have slept so well. 

Off to our comfortable beds, listening to passing rain showers and thinking to ourselves “that van does have 4 wheel drive, right?” 

Day five

The better road

We find “our table” on the beach, clouds prevent a good view of the sunrise and the day
begins warm and peaceful. While we breathe in fresh air and breakfast, workers with
buckets move back and forth carrying water from the lake, maybe to fill water tanks but
my guess was for cleaning floors and decks.
We request our check which will include the best bungalow, all of our meals, drinks and
beers. The carefully hand written bill says 300,000 Ary+, we smirk and the 3 of us must
dig deep and split this $77.00.(Cash only)tr
Very pleasant goodbyes to the owners who are Maylansian and/or Bangaldeshi. Hery
has cleaned the van inside and out we load up and the owner shows up and has a
couple bits of information. One he shows us an elegant house under construction. He
explains it was built in Bangladesh, dismantled and shipped here and will become a
museum.
Item two, he points further along and explains “a better road” our ears perk up.
In my life I have been excited about some things, movies or restaurants, etc. I praise
things like that to my friends. I later realized that perception, personal tastes, genetics,
affect opinions and my friends rarely share my evaluation....
We turn North this road is nice for a 250ft. We look ahead and see an orange, wet clay
hill. Onward and up for about half way, Hery tries to back down and van squirms
sideways and a front wheel drops into the ditch, we hear a low mournful “oh no”
At the top of this hill is a 9 man road crew, someone notices us and we see the young
jovials descend to lift us out. Attempt two. No better but the crew is there, Bret and I bail
out to assist and eventually we conquer. I mention to Hery that the 4wd isn’t working; he
coyly says it is worn out.
Hery and the crew discuss the road ahead at first it seems like”no problem '' then they
decide to come just in case, the crew climbs on top of the van.

The next kilometer provides beautiful vistas of the lake and sea. Soon the hillclimbing is
repeated at least once. We get to a ridge and bounce and dodge boulders. I don’t know
how the crew could stay on the van. We can see quite a ways in all directions the road
continues to a hairpin and descends into a valley, at the the bottom it turns upward and
from a mile away you see a stuck vehicle on the next harrowing climb.

The last hill, maybe 1/3 of it had stones in the tracks, but not here

The crew getting it up the last part of the hill. 'The better track'

At the bottom the crew jump off and go, Bret and I follow. We reach the pickup mired in
a hopeless looking predicament this is another 4wd that is not working. Work begins
and eventually the truck is high on the next ridge.
The crew run down to the van and they begin moving, Bret and I hang back and discuss
options we have a pessimistic outlook.Eventually the van reaches the chaos where the
truck was stuck and momentum is halted.
Tirelessly the crew work and there is little or no progress. I look at the slope that we are
at and wonder if engines can operate at that angle. The crew is heave- hoing , Dean
gets out of the van to lighten the load, he moves to the back and places one hand on
the van over the little people and leans in. Slowly it begins to move, excitement builds
and then it is on dryer ground able to move independently.
Whoop and holler time, much needed water is passed around..Life is good except we
hear this hissing sound. There is good spare and the process begins except for one
small thing, the lug wrench is too small.
The decision is made that we will ride in the pick up, the crew will return and Hery will
drive the 6km to the highway on a flat tire. Ahh the better road,from here on it is barely
doable we wait and to our amazement Hery arrives with still some tire left. The pickup
leaves toward Tana and we find a spot with a bit of a shoulder.
Soon an old pick up stops no lug wrench is found but a small box end wrench that fits,
through much effort they succeed, we feel we have just summited mount Kilimanjaro.

Loosening the lug nuts with a box end wrench, We had to push the van forward to get at the last nut

The totally destroyed tire, after driving on it flat for a couple of K

Now Thomasina is but 2 to 3 hrs. We begin thinking of food, beer and a hot shower.

This is housing on the main road to Tomasina

More housing, sometimes we would see a solar collector charging a car battery

At the outskirts a treacherous looking roundabout points to Tomasina or the bypass our
driver takes the bypass the road is flanked by miles of intense markets and stalls,
rickshaws and tuk-tuks animals and people
Traffic abruptly stops, the van is shut off and the hot wait begins, we ask our destination
it is Point Foul about another hour out of town.I express my preference for a hotel in the

city, after more time sweltering our driver skillfully turns the van around and back to the
bombed out looking roundabout and toward the city. We drive along the industrial route
dirty and busy with big trucks and cargo and warehouses.
My fellow sojourners begin with the comments,”is this right,where are we going, etc”,I
attempt to console because I now have a working active gps map, and we are on
course. Soon we turn and leave the grey area onto a very nice tree lined boulevard
toward a hotel that I have read about.
Arriving at this fine establishment we go into inquire, it definitely has an aire. We are
shown the price list and I wonder where all the zeros are, 130 in Ary must have 3 more
000 nope it is in Euros, off to Hotel choice #2 a few blocks away we stop at Generation
Hotel, a facility that charms you with it’s 1920’s look and feel.
I go to the desk to speak with the young woman there. I approach and ask “english?” to
which an eye roll and a huff of “ok”.(Going forward, imagine a snarky french accent in
the conversation.) I ask for a room for three,”this hotel does not rent rooms to three
men”, ok how about a double plus a single, “that is possible but I have none available”
three singles? “We”. She shows the rooms, old simple character plus private balconies.
We are given registration forms,name, phone, home address, how long have you lived
there, why are you here, where were you born, what is your mother's name, what is
your father's name, and the list goes on. I start making up answers like Elvis or
Snickers. 60,000 Ary ($16) we are in and the first brews are poured.
A few blocks away is the beach Hery wants to drive us because of “big bad guys”.
The beach is very nice and we wade into the Indian ocean.

Indian Ocean

Indian Ocean

Indian Ocean

Indian Ocean, port facilities on the right. Bret

Returning to the hotel we invite Hery to dinner across the street where we share and enjoy a fine Indian cuisine.

This spider was outside the restaurant we just ate at.

At dinner we ask our young driver of his future plans, he wants to go to Brazil, why we
inquire, in a serious tone, “because in the Amazon there are whole villages of only
women” . The 3 wise guys greatly encourage him to adventure forth. We ask for his
address so perhaps we can send helpful information to help him pursue his dream.
After dinner Hery says he will pick us up at 9am. I ask how long back to Tana he says
about 8 hrs, I balk believing it will take longer. I request 8am. We shower and go to the lonely hotel bar then retire to a good night's rest.

Day six:

Every place we stayed had elegant mosquito nets over the beds available for use. I never saw a mosquito. I believe in Madagascar they must be 1⁄4 the size of the Minnesota suckers. I woke up looking as if someone had snuck in and peppered my pale body with thousands of small dots from a red ballpoint pen.they did not hurt or itch but I know that I satisfied very many female mosquitoes that night.

The mosquito netting in my room in Tomasina, never used it.

Down at the simple but elegant restaurant which we share with no one else, linen tablecloths and napkins, from the menu the smart boys order omelets. I order the fruit plate and espresso. “We do not have any fruit or espresso”, I survived. 

Checkout is complete and Hery arrives at 8. We load our luggage and notice the ragged flat tire and no new lug wrench. However the van has been thoroughly cleaned inside and out. 

A pleasant morning for the long ride ahead. One of the travelers says to Hery that he can show us some city sites, I abruptly and perhaps rudely say no and that we must go.I have had a small sense of foreboding of which I have not spoken. 

Out of the city onto the main road where there would be barricades in the states. An hour or so in route, I am sitting barefoot in the back and I notice the floor seems to be getting very warm. Soon on a rare straight uphill stretch near the top of the hill the van clunks, gurgles and stops. Hery wisely rolls back to the midway point, there are no shoulders so we block the lane and get out to wring hands and investigate.

You can't see the coolant running between the tires here. Hery is in the grey shirt, our savior is in the orange shirt.

No shoulders, so with the vast number of semis this is quite dangerous.

The youthful Hery leans over the engine and softly “oh no, oh no”is heard,he checks his phone which has no service and another “oh no”. We pour some of our precious drinking water in and listen to steam hiss out the rear of the engine. 

We are at least 25 miles either direction from anything and I am not talking about a village,service station, police I mean maybe a roadside restaurant .We need to be at the airport tomorrow night and this van will not make that happen. We are in the rainforest for now baby. 

Hery and I go back and watch the last of the coolant running down the road, vehicles approach slow down and when clear pull out and pass, a small dark hatchback does the same and suddenly Hery runs after shouting and waving. The car almost clears the hill when the brake lights come on and then backs down. 

The driver and Hery engage. The driver indicates the three caucasions are very big and his car is small, we attempt to visually decrease our bulk, an ok signal is flashed and our luggage is packed in. Dean pays Hery the balance. We say our goodbyes and remind him of Brazil. 

On the road again our new driver with his daughter lives in Tana and will take us all the way, it turns out that this older gentleman was Hery’s trainer with the company several years back.Very fortuitous? 

The seating is comfortable, only lacking a bit of leg room, but there is a working radio and air conditioning and I am confident a correct lug wrench. When back into range the driver calls to explain Hery’s situation. The trip goes pleasantly with a couple of short shopping stops and as he does not drive as aggressively the trip will be taking a bit longer but we are content and more. 

In the late afternoon a meal stop is on the schedule, and we are again at the resort where we were 3 eventful days prior. Beer is ordered from the menu Dean and I order our known preferences, Bret choses to explore and orders something to which the waiter smirks. , We now learn more of our friendly driver, he speaks 4 languages, lived and studied in Russia for 9 yrs to become a geologist but because of government corruption here leading to messing with permits for the mineral companies he still occasionally needs to drive tourists about. 

Our drinks arrive and we order the food, Bret is examining his bottle and the driver smiles and says that is what is called ladies beer, no alcohol. I found out I ordered “the king’s dish, a nice bowl of zebu meat with spices and something like spinach. Another beer for Dean and me but Bret figures he should stop. We buy our new friends' meals and off we go. 

On the outskirts of Tana nature calls a slightly wide shoulder suffices. It is now getting dark. The strange inadequate lights hypnotize. About another hour and we must be getting close. Our driver has contacted our host, we recognize an important turn and the 

driver asks us to assist with the final few blocks , well us seasoned explorers puff out our chests and pilot us to home. 

Smiles and greetings from our host and then heartfelt goodbyes to the driver and his daughter. 

We eventually leave the host and her husband who has two vans ready to leave for a movie shoot or something. The host graciously lines up another driver for tomorrow. With great relief we attempt to unwind thinking of what ifs and now hearing of impending travel restrictions. 

We recall having a bottle of rum left. I lead a very thorough search. The full bottle is not found, oh well they consult their personal intelligent devices I go up stairs to stretch. When I return there is a half bottle of rum on the kitchen counter, I quickly accuse my friends of messing with my head to which I get a convincing “huh”. It seems that the kitchen back door can open and close very quietly. 

Day 7:

A restful night and after our final delivered breakfast. We discuss todays plans and what we are hearing about travel restrictions. Today is Thursday March 12th the US travel will change on Friday so we hear. Counting from getting up today to flying tonight, flight times and lay overs we are looking at about 60 continuous hours to MSP. 

Our driver arrives his name is Reeves, 29, speaks good English and drives a very nice van, he is 29 and seems more sophisticated. After introductions we lay out our modest plans. 

Dean has been saying all along that he cannot return without real vanilla for his baker friends (Madagascar produces 80% of the world's production), he also needs wine and I must have chocolate to ensure my return. 

First stop though is to stock up on those 10000 ary notes at the cash machine and then to what appeared to be slum shacks on a dirt ridge over a kilometer long. This is the incredible Artisans market, the largest in Madagascar. Each 8 ft wide stall shares a wall with the next as far as the eye can see. 

You can find anything that you imagine, leather goods, painting, rock carvings, clothing, embroidered tablecloths, wood carvings, woven baskets and on and on. Everything is hand done, no imported trinkets. Being off season we are popular indeed. While I wander the others get bogged down by the hawkers and beggars, I keep an eye on them and they head back to the van, I follow and we load up.It is an amazing place and we saw 1/100 of it. 

Our next request is lunch, our driver asks “fast food” no, no something more relaxing. He drops us at a nice hotel restaurant. We are seated and when attended to, I choose, Zebu marinated in hazelnut and blue cheese with roasted vegetables and a malasagy salad, magnifique also about $8. Dessert and smiles of satisfaction we leave and find our driver. 

Next chocolate and wine to import to the states, our driver drops us at a very US looking small supermarket, Dean scores Madagasy wine and I find the shelves of chocolate (my wife was happy enough but said the Ecuadorian chocolate is better)

The two bottles, I brought home, white, rose. Due to isolation policies have not tasted them yet,Not expecting much. The left bottle was tasted and was quite sweet which I don't like, The other bottle is still waiting for an appropriate situation.

Our last stop was the vanilla boutique, a small shop that our driver is familiar with for his foreign customers. I’m sure he gets a cut. Madagasy spices, soaps, coffee and of course vanilla. We make our purchases (the cashier somehow processes payments in ary, usd, euros or credit cards at the same time). Dean shows signs of pressure being lifted and now ready to bring his trophies home.

These 30ml vanilla bottles cost 50,000 ari each, about $12

Back at our airbnb we pay our driver, then relax, clean up and pack. I emailed our wonderful host for a ride to the airport for about 10:30 that night. Somewhere in the last 24hrs we have our last cigar on the balcony. 

Most people who visit Madagascar fly to one of the many beautiful ocean resorts that were built for them. We took a different path, one that I am personally thankful for. Two great companions totalling three old guys who enjoyed looking at this different world. 

When discussing Malagasy people with Hery, he said 1⁄2 of the people want to do something and 1⁄2 want to do nothing.that is probably an accurate assessment. I sense it is because of the worldwide problem of the rich doing what many do, trying only to get richer and turning their backs on the poor, and in Madagascar I have seen a 3rd world country and the effects of corruption both in history and the present. 

We get to the airport and leisurely checkin and wait until we walk up the long stairs onto a big airbus that looks out of place at this small terminal. 

10 to 11 hr flight time to Paris, arrive in a large quiet airport, no signs or notices about travel restrictions, eat a bit, nap some, and fly out about 6 pm.

Paris airport international section March 13

Landing in Montreal we have 9 hrs to wait. We do find 3 benches to actually get some rest. 4 am iffy ticketing, security then we get pulled out of line at US customs, The cut off tine for restrictions leaving Paris was 11:59 pm since we flew at 6pm we were eventually allowed to go to Minnesota on board a 1⁄3 loaded plane. 

The last laugh was Bret’s bag was still in Montreal. But it showed at his door a few hours later. What a great trip, thanks guys!