In Madagascar the vazaha (white foreigner) can move in two ways: either a 4x4 or dense bush takes taxy. In truth, there are also domestic flights and two railway lines in operation, but the former are too expensive and second, when they bring it where you want to go, have a bet, so you end up adapting to circumstances. The private cars are pretty scarce, so the hitchhiking not to be taken into account. To move
taxy bush is always best to book a bit 'in advance, we recommend travel guides, so you can choose the best places. I, who always decide at the last moment, I can never do it. But this time I managed to get hold of the phone number of a transport company, Sonatra, so I called them the day of departure and they were able to spot the legendary No. 3!
morphology taxy bush: a mini-van type truck, with 12 seats, 3 on each row. In fact, there is at least 15, since they also sell the seats beside the driver, more or less depending on areas than many people would be comfortable (I am a bit 'more spacious) and not fear the curves (the view is not recommended for heart patients). On regional routes, generally shorter, people there are up to 20, stick together like sardines just to not let anyone walk .. Seats are numbered and the most popular are those in the row immediately behind the driver: the 3, 4 and 5. The third is just behind the driver's seat: the safest in the event of an accident, or so they say, do not know whether to lift or to make me feel like a privileged position. The 5 has the disadvantage of being next to the door, very bad position because of the draft. In the 4 you have nothing to lean on, apart from the close, if you're feeling confidence and a cautious promiscuity.
To request a technical break they say, "Akoh Olombelona Tsy" (men are not chickens) so that the Malagasy communicate that need to pee. In those circumstances you find a novel use of the shorts, lamba in Madagascar that women, even young ones, who wear Western-style, they always tied at the waist. As soon as the car is parked, almost always in the middle of nowhere, the lamba is transformed into a convenient front for cover from prying eyes while you squat for free.
When you travel bush taxy is always good to stock up on food and drinks, in case the car remained stranded (Which happens half the time) in the middle of this thing. For me, the trip was the unmistakable smell of Bonbon Anglais, passed off as a fizzy drink lemonade, 100% in Madagascar, but produced with the blessing of the omnipresent Coca Cola company, which monopolizes the market here in the soft drink bottle. Sweet as a jujube dissolved Bonbon Anglais deodorant works better than a car. Just uncork it and everyone will know immediately that you're drinking. Not recommended if you travel incognito. The Malagasy love it, especially mixed with a little 'toaka of the terrible local rum.
Luggage is loaded on top of the furgonetta, carefully covered with a thick plastic sheet and secured by several turns of rope. There are countless boxes, baskets of poultry, shrimp, turtle shells, furniture, once it happened to me even the engine of a car. Can you feel the swaying of the van overloaded at every turn? And the smell of burning brakes? Ah, blessed drivers!
July 9: At last I can leave Antananarivo. I expect at least 9 hours of travel to cover the 400-odd miles that separate me from Fianarantsoa. I do not know if courage or cowardice, but I decide to travel at night.
The date for the departure is at 17. In fact I already know that the medium does not start until it is full, so arrive at the station armed with patience. Here, a trip to taxy bush is a good way to learn the time value of the African, as he also said Kapucinsky. You learn to wait and not be nervous, make you lose the habit of asking questions and insolent immediately identifiable for what you are, a white son of a society where time is money. One minute, hour, questions like: "When you part?" For the Malagasy not seem to matter. Sit down and wait in the car without batting an eyelid. Nervous is not the stuff of Madagascar.
At 18:30 begins the ritual of packing the luggage on the roof, an unmistakable sign that the departure becomes imminent. The problem though ... ya! A passenger, which has also paid for the ticket in advance, decided to take it easy. While we wait, I realize that even that famous phrase: "Hurry up, the bus mica wait!", Both used by mothers to taken down from the bed on school days, here is so very true. Mr passenger arrives after an hour. Alefaaaaa, you go!
I am a bit 'anxious for the trip. To distract myself I start chatting with another passenger, a student of law. It feels reassuring. He, of accidents in taxy-bush has already done a couple. Since then, he always takes the seat beside the driver, so keep an eye on the road. But - he says - is to be ultimately rest assured that with the increase of petrol (which costs less than in Europe, one euro per liter, which is a huge amount here) the speed is reduced, so the driver will think twice before pushing a tablet. I would believe him, but his prophecy is only half true: When the driver gets tired of listening at full volume and listen to her single CD, you do a barrel and began to press the accelerator. At five-thirty in the morning, almost at midnight, we arrive at Fianarantsoa.
that this was not the inconvenience of taxy bush? Always start late, and when they arrive, it is still too soon!
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