Antsirabe & A Crazy Taxi Ride

Written 14/7
Gilles gave us a ride to Fianarantsoa, and after a brief stop at the bank to make us all millionaires again he dropped us at the taxi-brousse station. This time it seemed way less chaotic. We were already booked on a bus and it was ready to go in ten minutes – with only 4 people per row!

By the time we were nearing Antsirabe it was getting dark, and pulling in at the station we were met by crowds of pousse-pousse and cyclo-pousse drivers. We were quickly loaded in and off we went down the pot holed street.
Chez Billy was fully booked, but we took refuge in their restaurant to hide from people trying to sell us things on the street. We spent our second night at Chez Billy, and it was really good, the first night we spent at a hotel just around the corner, and ate at a restaurant called Pousse-Pousse. Maybe it was finally being recovered from the last tummy bug, but I think they serve some of the best fires I have ever had. We met an absolutely crazy American who told us ridiculous stories about his travel and near scrapes with both death and the law in various countries. On our second night we had pizza at Chez Jennys which was fantastic.

For our one day to explore Antsirabe we were lucky enough to be found by Jean Roberts – a tour guide who took us on around a 45km ride to explore the surrounding countryside.  We biked past the THB factory and towards the west. After a few kilometres we turned off the main road and down a dirt road to some lakes. Jean Roberts explained that this was the town supply to part of the west of Antsirabe, and it did not surprise me at all that there was a team of women in there doing the laundry. We carried on alongside the lake to a craft market which appeared closed. However as soon as we neared people sprang out from goodness knows where and about 50 shops opened quicky, with both men and women beckoning and begging us to ‘come inside, please Mrs.’ The souvenirs were absolutely hands down the nicest souvenirs I have come across. We ended up with a collection of treasures included a grass baobab tree – not sure that will clear customs to get into NZ!, two tiny paintings, a rock!, and a wooden box.

The next stop was a small national park – Tritreva lake. Children ran to meet us and jogged beside us as I puffed up the last uphill section. Their grasp of their sales-pitch in both French and English was very impressive, which led me to conclude that perhaps they did attend school. They were determined to sell us necklaces, and very charming, so eventually we gave in and bought two, which turned out to be extremely distressing for the ones we did not buy from…

Antsirabe is cold, particularly in the shade, but I tried hard to hide from the sun due to the photosensitivity I am experiencing being on Doxycycline. Lunch – in the shade, was cold, but also delicious. We particularly enjoyed our entré of avocado with vinaigrette and salad. Avocados are so cheap here, only NZ$0.20 each.
The view from the cafe looks out over terraced farmland, muddy and gray due to it being winter, but beautiful nonetheless.

We continued on our bikes, downhill for 10km back to the tarseal road, and it was much more mountain bike style, avoiding ruts and holes in a very damaged road. We passed many people – people with zebu carts carrying all manner of produce or bricks, farmers, and brickmakers. Nearing more populated areas we were again greeted by choruses of ‘salut vazahas!’
The 17km back along the tarseal involved a certain amount of dodging traffic, but was not too crazy. There were a lot of people making bricks, a lot more ‘salut vazahas’, and we saw again the craziest job I think I saw in Madagascar – people chipping rocks to make gravel. Yes, as bizarre as it sounds, in this country it was common enough to see groups of people, both men and women of all ages sitting by the roadside, often under a tree, chipping rocks and throwing the gravel into little piles beside them sorted by size.

The following day we had an exhausting trip to Antananarivo. Jean Roberts had kindly helped us book onto a fancy taxi-brousse, only a little more expensive, but with only three seats across each row. So the first part of the day was fine. The chaos of course ensued as soon as we arrived in Tana. We were greeted by multiple men all asking if we needed a taxi, and of course we did, so we followed one man across the road. He pointed at a very old beige car and opened the boot for the big bags. The smaller ones had to go in the back seat with Jono. The taxi driver lifted a bottle of fuel from the boot and added it to the fuel tank. I sat in the front. My window was half down, and held in place by a rusty old screwdriver jammed in between the window pane and the door. There was no key for the car, just a homemade contraption joining two wires next to the steering wheel. I was both pleased and surprised to find that I had a seatbelt. It took a few goes to start the car, and once it did go we pulled out in a hurry in front of several lanes of traffic. The traffic congestion got worse and worse, we went slowly past the jail, and a putrid river which seemed to be a slowly flowing sewage pond/rubbish dump. We wove in and out of traffic, at times using the footpath as an extra lane, but eventually we were stuck. I did not dare to touch the window as the whole car seemed poised to fall apart, but being stuck in the fumes and dirt, and having people crowding around either begging or trying to sell things was very unpleasant. The taxi was turned off to save fuel anytime that we came to a stop, and eventually the taxi driver got bored and abandoned us for a while! People continued to walk past selling things like cigarettes, kebabs, and shower heads! Eventually the traffic began to move, and our driver re-appeared. Amazingly (to me) the car started again. We moved again for a while, but closer to the airport the traffic slowed again. Our skilled driver however simply drove drove down the other side of the road into the oncoming traffic, and when it got to close he just drove on the footpath – on the other side of the road! Honking at the pedestrians who had to leap out of the way. The whole process was amusing and embarrassing more than frightening, as we were never going particularly fast. I am also guilty to admit that I was very glad to shorten the amount of time stuck in that car in that traffic, and I was exhausted by the time we got to the hotel even though it was only 2pm.