Since we’re on the subject of climaxes (as I was last post) and denouements, it’s probably about time to put this puppy to bed. All that’s left is 1 more boring day driving back to Tana, after a 9 hour slog today, a couple of days at what I’m praying is a swanky hotel and a 2 day flight home (broken up by a day layover in Paris, which now looks like it will be spent in an airport hotel room. C'est la vie). So, hopefully, absolutely nothing to write home about.
If you’ve been reading this blog faithfully - like good little girls & boys - you can probably already guess my verdict on Madagascar. In a nutshell:
too too too
much + much + much
work time money
Of course there are caveats. I only saw a sliver of the country & NOT what are claimed to be its best beaches and top sights. However, even given that, I think I can draw some fairly obvious conclusions.
1. Even if those beaches are amazing, I guarantee they’re no nicer than, say, Santa Teresa in Costa Rica (Caitlin’s former stomping grounds). Why would you fly halfway around the world for something you can get more cheaply & much more comfortably? It’s not like you’re going to be hanging with locals there.
Hauntingly beautiful beachfront in Morondava.
2. If you plan on seeing any national parks, you’re going to have to drive at least 7 or 8 hours over unimaginable roads to get to each one. And while having a driver at least relieves you of having to focus every fucking second to keep from destroying your car, you’re still going to be jolted unmercifully, which may detract from your enjoyment of the scenery. You could fly on what may be the world’s most unreliable airline, but then you’re missing most of the good scenery. I still can’t believe it’s hardly ever mentioned in books or videos. It’s a BIG deal. As far as I’m concerned, any drive here is a variation on a Star Trek eternal loop:
“Hey, only 30 km to go. I’ll be there in no time.”
NO, YOU WON’T.
“Whoa! What the hell happened to the road? Oh man, this is the worst ever!”
NO, IT ISN’T.
“Whew, at last! Good looking pavement ahead. Well, at least that’s over with.”
NO, IT’S NOT.
Repeat as necessary.
3. It’s not as expensive as Uganda, but it’s not cheap either, and I didn’t even go to the most touristy places. You’ll do okay for around $60 - $80, but if you want someplace nice - and after 8 hours on the road, you just might - you’re going to be paying well over $100. Maybe that’s considered cheap now (“loaf of bread? 10 cents, right?”).
This bungalow will set you back $120 per night.
4. Get ready for some serious poverty. It’s right up there with India when it comes to in-your-face destitution. For example (and it’s just one of many):
I’ve been places where cars are rare but nothing comes close to this. No matter where you are or how far it is to the closest town, you’ll constantly see people walking down the highway - many of them barefoot. And I’m talking 20-30 kms. Having a bicycle here is a big fucking deal.
“Did you hear? Mobutu got a bicycle.”
“I told you he was destined for great things!”
If they’re not walking, they’re sitting by the roadside or in an oxcart. We’re talking Dark Ages here.
See? Swear to God, absolute Middle of Nowhere.
Honestly, I think plenty of people here would give their left nut to live in the townships of South Africa or a favela in Rio.
“Wait a second. Are you telling me you’ve got 4 walls AND a roof? Water? Toilet? Electricity? Hell yeah, I’m in!”
“Quaint “ fishing huts.
Marco Mark: C
And I’m being generous. Truthfully, again I can’t think of anyone I know (or don’t) who might really enjoy the whole experience. But maybe it’s just me. There seem to be a lot of geriatrics here, and nobody’s bitching or moaning, at least not to me, so who knows.
A good indicator of my relationship with Madagascar is my reaction (one I keep to myself) when I meet expat owners of hotels here - and there are quite a few:
“You could have done this anywhere in the world and you chose to do it HERE?”
Do I regret coming? Absolutely not.
Would I come again? Absolutely not.
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