Leaving Madagascar

The homeless people across the street from my hotel.

The street vendors outside the front of the hotel.

The views in both directions on the street.

He tried to sell me this boat through the window of my taxi.

Street kids.

Typical little shop.

Street scooter repair in from of a non refrigerated meat shop.

These men have to negotiate the streets and add to the congestion.

The last rice paddy close to the airport.

Friday, November 24^th.

Anyone who knows me very well will be surprised by a few of the things I have been eating here. I have been drinking coffee every morning (because there isn't much else and sometimes the juice is suspect), eating lots of bread (because they have no cereal), lots of eggs (in their omelette form to put in the French stick bread), lots of red meat in the form of zebu kababs (because I don't like much else and don't trust the fish and the chicken is scrawny and tough), a bottle of Coke a day (because you get tired of drinking water, especially warm bottled water), and French fries (because you can't eat fresh vegetables for fear of getting sick). So a very different diet from home, but that's to be expected when travelling where the drinking water is not safe.

I had a really good time here, saw all of what I wanted to see and more, met many really nice local people, including our wonderful guide Patrick and his partners Guy and Henry and travelled with a great group of very seasoned travellers, but I am ready to move on.

Last night I watched from my balcony some homeless people set up there cardboard beds across the street from my hotel, and this morning I saw they packing up. As with all homeless people it is sad to see people who have so little and nowhere to go.

Later in the morning I saw the transient street vendors with their little tables trying to make a buck before the police chase them off.

I stayed in my room updating the blog until 11:15 when I went down and settled my account with the hotel and met my taxi driver (same guy as yesterday) for the trip to the airport. On the way he told me when I come back to call him, or if I have friends to give them my number and say they are friends of Joseph. He kept saying asking when I would come back, I didn't have the heart to tell him never, as I've seen what I wanted to see and this place is crazy and depressing.

We crawled through the congested traffic and every time we stopped he would turn the car off. Then we would be surrounded by people trying to sell us anything: fruit, lychee, coat hangers, computer cables, usb, cellphones, candies, socks, etc. One guy even tried to sell me a model wooden boat that if it was much larger I could sail it home. Who put him on the street to sell that? What would anybody do with it? Especially tourists?

There were also numerous women with small dirty snotty nosed babies appearing at the window and begging. That is really hard, sad and depressing. But what can you do?

We drove past the rice fields again between Tana and the airport suburb and they rice had grown a lot in the last few weeks and to the untrained eye looked ready to harvest.

At the airport I was met by a man who gave me two forms to fill out, one for the police and one for the health services that asked if we had been sick, or feverish or had a cough with blood in the phlegm. He wanted money of course. Then I had my temperature read by a lady with an ear thermometer and passed that. I found out later from Graham and Lynn that I was supposed to get that form stamped and they were to take the top portion. This would give me permission to fly. However, no one stamped it or collected that portion and I still flew. So much for health security.

I met Graham and Lynn and we checked in. The guy at the counter had a good look at my passport and checked all the pages repeatedly. I asked him what he was looking for and he said 'your visa'. I couldn't believe it. I showed it to him, and if you remember the story about the visa a month ago and the picture I posted I couldn't figure out how he missed it, it took up a whole page. Anyway, he thanked me and the rest of the check in went smoothly. We waited an hour for the flight and when we boarded it was only about a third full.

The flight was uneventful. When I arrived in Johannesburg I said my goodbyes to Graham and Lynn. They are amazingly travelled people and were great company. Then I met my pickup who took me to his cold air-conditioned car and drove me to the Holiday Inn in Rosebank where I was supposed to go when I missed the beginning of my Botswana trip. As I told him the story of how I was picked up by the wrong company and taken to the wrong hotel, it suddenly dawned on me that perhaps he was the guy who was supposed to pick me up but didn't. He remained quiet so I will never know.

I arrived at the hotel at seven just as a thunderstorm broke. I checked in and went into my frigid air-conditioned room. I had to turn it off, it was the first air con in a long time and it wasn't even hot here.

I had dinner in the hotel restaurant and then retired to the room.