The last two days have been
picturesque to say the least. After the previous post about scammers we risked
it again and signed up for a 2 day train and homestay trip to Andrambovato (Normally
120,000Ar and worth every penny, though not what we paid. The business is run
out of an old red train carriage out front of the Fianarantsoa station). This
time however, the company had been recommended to Arno by a group of 3 French
tourists who’d visit just a week or so before.
The train from Fianarantsoa leaves on
alternate days to Manakara and returns every other. It is notoriously prone to
breakdowns and delay, and currently stops 70km before its destination. The
train left promptly at 7am Malagasy time (ie. 7.30am) and our first class
carriage (as far as I could tell, the only difference was having a reserved
seat) was full of both locals and vasa. Passing through the stations and small
towns and villages, it was curiously like being a celebrity. Workers stopped
work to watch and wave. Young girls stood waiting at the station and offered
all sorts of exotic fruits and snack foods at the window. Children would hang
about just to catch a glimpse of the vasa and have their photos taken. Strange.
Yet very fun.
We arrived at Andrambovato about
10.30am and met our host family and nature guide. The home was beautiful!
Traditional, but immaculately kept and more like a Hollywood version of a
Malagasy home (in a good way) than the neighbouring examples of reality.
The tiny village is built on either
side of the train line and in the shadow of a huge cliff. The top was our first
destination of the first day’s 4hour hike. The view was amazing and our guide
Tsina was incredibly knowledgeable about the local landscape, history, flora
and fauna. We then hiked to a nearby waterfall and had a picnic lunch brought
up by our host Andreas. (By the way, the food was great the whole time on the
trip. Andreas had a long career in hospitality in the city and he and his wife
prepare everything for the homestay.) After a refreshing tropical shower (No
running water or electricity here, just hot and cold tubs of water you mix in a
pitcher.), we settled down to a slightly westernized version of a traditional
Malagasy dinner on the terrace overlooking the landscape below. We were cut
short by a sudden downpour but Andreas organised dessert (banana flambé) in our
room to candlelight. Honeymooners, eat your heart out.
The next morning we had breakfast out
over the stunning view again and then headed out on another hike to a traditional
village in the valley.
The inhabitants there, though few,
still hold their traditional beliefs very strongly. For instance, only the
queen is allowed to sit along the south wall of the big house, while guests sit
on the north, old and wise men to the east and young men to the west. The decorative
baskets on the shelves were explained to have magical properties and are only
to be touched by someone who has killed a demon. It was in this village that we
were guests of their queen and had sugar cane and pomello in the “big house”,
the most important building where all business is attended to. We were also
required to leave a monetary gift to the village which was received by the
queen.
Included in the tour of the village
was a visit to their rum distillery. This was real bucket science. Out amongst
the rice paddies, we stopped abruptly and were shown three big clay holes in
the ground that were filled with various levels of fermenting sugar cane,
special leaves and a few beetles that had fallen in for good measure. A few
meters further, a makeshift distillation lab was running out of a metal barrel
where two men sat nearby stoking the fire and chatting. I secretly wondered how
often these set ups exploded but didn’t venture to ask.
The trip ended far too soon. We waited
reluctantly for the train to bring us back to civilisation. Honoria (our host
mother) braided my hair like hers. We stopped and listened to some men singing
to Malagasy music on guitar and watched the children playing with spin tops
made from wood and stone. As Arno said to me earlier, our civilisation must be
crazy to have given this simple life up.
