Madagascar > To Ambalavao

I wake up on time. The sound of the babbling stream in front of my bungalow prompts a quick trip to the toilet. I step into the shower. Although the flow of water is limited, once again I have warm water. So far, I’ve been able to have a warm shower every day—something I hadn’t expected beforehand. I pack my luggage again. Today, I continue traveling south. In the small town of Ambatovaky, I get out. This town has many blacksmiths. Men are trying to shape the steel correctly. A woman beckons me to look inside her house. She shows me her bedroom and points upstairs to the kitchen. Carefully, I climb the narrow stairs. On the upper floor, the family is cooking over a wood fire. The entire room is blackened with soot. Cooking upstairs keeps the other rooms free of smoke. As I continue walking through the village, all the children wave at me. The adults stand in front of their houses. It’s quite an attraction. I continue my journey toward Fianarantsoa, the country’s second-largest city.

Madagascar - The entire village comes out for a visit

The contrast in wealth here is striking compared to the primitive villages along the route. Unfortunately, I also see people lying on the street, while everyone walks around them. In a small restaurant, I have a cola. Then I drive past the first Catholic church in Madagascar, located in the higher part of Fianarantsoa. From here, it’s still a two- to two-and-a-half-hour drive to Ambalavao.

Madagascar - Children posing for the camera

I’m heading further south. Outside, the landscape is becoming drier and drier. Along the road, people are busy making bricks. I see women carrying stacks of bricks on their heads, yet they still have time to wave. Around three o’clock, I enter Ambalavao. Immediately, the cathedral, situated slightly higher at the end of the Main Street, catches the eye. On both sides, there are charming wooden houses with decorated balconies, giving Ambalavao the feel of a French mountain village. Numerous children are in the streets; their school has just ended. Shyly, they walk behind me along the main street.

Madagascar - A drink on a terrace in Ambalavao

By the church, a man beckons me onto the grounds so I can take a photo. Unfortunately, the church itself is closed. Behind the church, there are more schools. Parents lean against the walls in the shade while waiting to pick up their children. I greet them politely. Through the market, I return to the Main Street. On a corner, I order a beer and sit outside at a small table. I immediately become a local attraction. “Bonsoir” and “Salut” are constantly directed my way. In the evening, I try a Malagasy meal of pork and beans, recommended by the driver. It’s a tasty choice, but soon after the meal, I get cramps in my intestines. Although I don’t think it’s the meal’s fault, I rush to the toilet. Will I get diarrhea like some other travelers? For me, the problem is that nothing comes, but the cramps persist. It’s an unpleasant situation. I clearly feel unwell. To be safe, I stay on the toilet. Using a flashlight, I write my travel journal. The power has been out for several hours. Feeling miserable and nauseous, I go to bed, getting up regularly for another trip to the toilet.