Arrival in Madagascar

Navigating through Charles de Gaulle airport is no mean feat! It’s a huge place and extremely busy, even first thing in the morning.  Signposting was clear though and after trundling along what seemed like several kilometres of corridors I arrived at the departure gate for my flight to the capital of Madagascar, Antananarivo (usually shortened to Tana by most Malagasy).

The 5000+ mile flight took 10 ½ hours and landed at 11pm Madagascar time. As the plane came in to land I looked out of the window, expecting to see the usual city nightscape of lights from buildings and roads. It was astonishing. From the angle of our approach there were few lights to be seen – just a few glowing fires dotted around in the dark. It felt most surreal and it suddenly hit me that I was arriving in a place completely unlike anywhere I had ever experienced. As the plane taxied to a halt and the cabin doors were opened the essence of Madagascar wafted into the plane – humid, tropical air scented with a trace of wood smoke.

I crossed the tarmac with the other passengers and followed the directions for the visa desk. Although it is possible to get a visa for Madagascar in advance there is no Malagasy embassy in the UK so it would mean getting one in Paris. I had been advised that most people simply get a visa on arrival so I thought I would do the same. It proved to be an interesting introduction to Malagasy official procedures! It involved everyone joining a disorderly queue and handing their passports to an official. He passed them to two border police issuing visas from within a booth and sent us round to the other side of the booth where the system immediately broke down into total chaos. Once each passport had been stamped with the visa, another official waved it in the air calling that person’s name. Standing in a large crowd made it very difficult to hear or see and, when mine finally came through it took some determined shoving to get to the front and claim it!

Once I had collected my bag I readied myself for the next challenge – dealing with the melee of porters (whom I had heard could be pushy to the point of being aggressive). Gripping my bags tightly and ready to defend myself I entered the airport concourse. Within seconds my fears evaporated as a smiley old gentleman wearing an official porter’s vest politely helped me locate the minibus driver from my hotel, showed me where I could change some Euros into Ariary and chased away a couple of pushy beggars. I gladly paid him the going rate of 1000 Ariary (about 30p) for his assistance - and he carried my heavy bag to the minibus! 

By the time I got to my hotel it was 1.30am and I was very tired. There was a small hiccup when they didn’t appear to have my booking (even though I had an email confirmation) but the receptionist assured me it was not a problem and they could find me a room. The accommodation was fairly basic – there were a couple of small holes in the sheets, the pillow appeared to be stuffed with straw and the door lock didn’t inspire much confidence. I was quite pleased I had found room in my bag for a door wedge. However there was a shower with warm water and a flushing loo and I was so tired that after setting my alarm for an early start I soon dropped off to sleep to the sound of crickets.