Madagascar > Travel day to Ranomafana

At breakfast, it turns out that two travel companions are not feeling well. Most likely, something they ate did not agree with them. Since today is a travel day to Ranomafana National Park, they take seats at the front of the bus. The road may be rough today. The bus follows the main road southward. Several times along the way, we have to stop for the sick travelers, which also provides the opportunity to walk a short stretch along the roadside. On this stretch, large parts of the vegetation have been burned. The fires are intentionally set to clear the land for cultivation. I see spots that are still smoldering. Across the way, on the hills, smoke still rises. I cannot understand how people can control fire in such a dry landscape. Around eleven o’clock, I enter Ambositra, the town where the Madalief Foundation started caring for orphaned children. I stroll a bit through the center, past the small shops, while Zoe takes care of the lunch supplies. Many people are dressed nicely today—it is Sunday. Even as we continue driving, I see children in their finest clothes. They wave enthusiastically at the bus and shout, “Vazaha, Vazaha!” This means “white person” in Malagasy. Adults also pause their work briefly to watch us pass. When we need to make another necessary stop, we combine it with lunch. It’s unfortunate to be sick on a day like this. The crew quickly prepares a salad with fish and cheese. Although the baguette is a bit tough, it tastes fine. In the afternoon, it remains necessary to make extra stops, which causes us to fall behind schedule.

Madagascar - Nuts are sold along the roadside

The road also doesn’t help; large potholes mar the asphalt. Faly drives the bus slowly between the holes. Just before the turnoff to Ranomafana, we stop at a toilet, and children from a nearby village come running—about fifty of them, I estimate. “Vazaha, Vazaha!” they shout. Curious, they look around the bus and hope to receive something. By now it is half past five, and the sun is disappearing behind the hills. In the twilight, the bus takes the road to Ranomafana, which is still an hour and a half drive through hilly terrain. Faly signals at each curve with his lights to warn oncoming traffic. As I enter Ranomafana, it begins to rain. I arrive at the hotel at half past seven, having been traveling for eleven hours. This is somewhat more than the 4–5 hours mentioned in the travel program. The delay is partly due to the extra necessary stops, but also simply because the journey is longer. For the sick companions, it is a relief to have arrived. They quickly dive into bed. A doctor also comes by for a consultation, just to be safe. I quickly carry my things to my small bungalow. I hear the rain on the corrugated metal roof. With my umbrella, I walk back to the restaurant. I order a traditional Malagasy meal with soup, chicken, meat, vegetables, and rice. It tastes excellent. When the electricity goes out at ten o’clock, I go to bed. With my flashlight on, I set up my mosquito net around the bed and fall asleep.