Travel Times May Vary

Today, the vacation part of “workcation” officially began, as we headed to Ranomafana National Park to see the lemurs. My colleague, Rachel, was awesome enough to do all the planning in conjunction with our Madagascar office, so I only had to be worried about being ready on time for our departure. 

As we left Antananarivo, the landscape quickly became rural (e.g. fields of rice just outside of town). 

brickyard on the outskirts of Tana

We took Route 7, one of the national highways, almost the entire way. Technically it was a 2-lane road, but those lanes felt pretty narrow with oncoming traffic! It was also almost always the only the paved road in sight. Consequently, we shared the road with everyone—lots of Taxis-brousses (bush taxis) that appeared to be the same size as our van but stuffed with twice as many people, the occasional private car, semis, farmers driving wooden wagons pulled by zebu (cows with humps on their backs), and even some bicycles. But mostly everyone appeared to get around on foot along the edge of the road. The women gracefully carried any number of things on their heads while wearing lambas (their kangas or sarongs), which reminded me a bit of Tanzania, except the women here often wore wide-brimmed hats. 

It’s a big island, the 4th largest in the world in fact, but when I saw that our route was less than 200 miles on a map as the crow flies, I thought we’d be there in a matter of hours. What I didn’t consider beforehand was that the road traversed the spine of highlands that runs north-south, winding more often than not. So what I thought would take 4, and what we’d heard could be traversed in 7-10, really took closer to 12 hours. Thankfully a friend had suggested applying peppermint essential oil to stave off motion sickness. Granted, we did stop along the way to buy handicrafts and more than my fair share of wooden nativities, but it still made for a very long day. For all that, the landscape didn’t change all the dramatically once we were clear of Tana, aside from a few towns of note. It was as if the landscape had been painted every shade of tan, with terraced fields almost the entire way. 

A few impressions: 

• Very few trees in sight, and many of those we did see were planted exotics. It was hard to picture what this looked like when it was all forest. We did drive through a patch of “tapia woodland” that reminded me of the chaparral back home, and reminded me that “forest” has a very broad definition, depending on context. 

Once the forest is cleared, the soil here erodes easily.

• At a glance, farming practices hadn’t changed much in a long time. They used zebu to plow and stir up the mud before digging holes with spear-like shovels to plant rice. The plots were almost entirely rice at early stages of the planting cycle. 

typical landscape in the highlands (T. Larsen)

rice paddies

• We occasionally saw roadside stands selling handicrafts that appeared to be part of development projects. Instead of a diverse assortment of objects, you’d see several stands in a row selling identical products, from musical instruments to concrete lawn statues to toy trucks. 
• The churches were the tallest buildings and clearly stood out in the landscape. 

one of the many churches we saw along the way

• Family tombs are stone structures nicer than some of their homes, and are the setting for a unique cultural practice known as Famadihana, or “bone turning”. Every few years, extended family will gather at the tomb and direct descendants will enter, bring out their ancestor’s body, wrap it in a new layer of fabric, and pass the bones around. Family bonding on a whole different level. 

typical family tombs

• Along some parts of the drive, the road was lined by eucalyptus—possibly planted by the French to provide a source of timber or to create lovely tree-lined boulevards.
• Many of them have since been hacked at, including the roots, to provide firewood. 
• Rural houses were usually built of mud bricks, but they were almost always 2 stories with verandas. 
• I didn’t see corn growing (wrong season) but we did see it drying from a few balconies. 

maize drying from the veranda

laundry drying on the riverbank

It was dark, damp, and late by the time we arrived at our accommodations, the Cristo, and I was exhausted from a long day in the car. I ended up with a bungalow to myself, and was soon tucked in under the mosquito netting for the night.

Routine

Travel is good for getting me out of my routines, giving me an opportunity to examine why I have them in the first place. But it’s interesting how quickly I establish new routines when I travel. In the case of our time in Tana, it quickly became something like: wake up, eat big multi-course breakfast, sit in a meeting with headset for most of the day, visit hotel’s steam room and pool, eat fancy dinner and indulgent dessert. Repeat.

I can’t say today was very different, other than the workshop part. We went to the office for a post-workshop briefing and wrapping up loose ends, and I used my free time to hike with a colleague to some nearby gift shops before lunch. This area isn’t far from our hotel, but just enough from the tourist areas that we weren’t accosted by panhandlers at every turn. It was interesting to see what the locals were up to, and my favorite moment was finding a group playing bocce in an alley.

the national pastime

It was too early for me to worry about buying souvenirs, but it was useful to see my options and start pricing spices. Lunch was chicken in coconut sauce, and dessert was a local bar of chocolate with pink pepper.

In keeping with routine, we had more spa time before another dinner at La Varangue. This time, our waiter was good but not the same one. I nursed a passion fruit juice through a meal of pork with bacon sauce, lentils and rice, and crème brûlée for dessert. I rarely make food this much the focus of my travels, but with meals like this the attention was warranted.

Back at the hotel, they’d moved all the furniture out of the restaurant to host a fashion show, providing some fascinating people watching. Just when you think you’re starting to understand a place, it surprises you with something like this.

Workshop Finale, and "Mystery Logs" Solved

I’ve been listening to Mormon Channel podcasts while getting ready, and found one of a couple who were service missionaries in Madagascar. In the midst of it the husband said something I hadn’t noticed: there are no stoplights in Madagascar. Once I heard that I started paying more attention as we drove around Tana, the capital and biggest city—the most likely candidate for a stoplight. Not only were stoplights missing, I didn’t even see a stop sign or street sign.

Our hotel is "downtown" but we're on the top of a hill (there's lots of those here) and the president's palace is just a few doors down. We're not allowed to take pictures up close, but I managed to snap one on our drive to the workshop.

The presidential palace, as seen from the car.

It might seem obvious, but I had to learn the hard way how to dress for workshops like this. Looking back at photos from past trips, I'd packed versatile "travel clothes" that didn't wrinkle and gave the freedom to go into the jungle at a moment's notice. Everyone else...dressed like they were at a professional event in an urban area. And then there was the "unintentionally cross-dressing with near-wardrobe-malfunction" episode in Tanzania back in 2009--that was hitting rock bottom. So it wasn’t hard to exceed past performance, but I think it actually went quite well this time. Success…and the most professional jungle wardrobe I’ve had yet. 

Today was the day I finally presented on behalf of my colleague, and while I’m far from an expert on Malagasy agriculture or mining, I think it went alright. The unfortunate part was that the maps, the crutch of my presentation, had the colors so distorted by the projectors that even I had a hard time seeing what was going on. But we tried to make it engaging by having the participants guess which five key crops we looked at—their guesses alone were insightful. In case you were wondering, vanilla wasn’t one of them. I was surprised too, but apparently between the recent political turmoil and too many instances of inferior quality (e.g. injecting the beans to increase the weight which renders them useless). They were: rice, sugarcane, maize, coffee, and clove. The last one also surprised me, but apparently it’s a fairly new thing that is becoming increasing important for internal use and export. By this point in the week, though, I was starting to understand the importance of rice in their cuisine, as it came with every meal. I later learned that the word “to eat” in Malagasy actually translates to eat rice, and that people in Madagascar consume more than three times the rice they eat in Japan.

Introducing a variation of Family Feud to the workshop.

the big presentation

Map chat

CI family photo

After the workshop, we had a celebratory dinner with a few of our CI-Madagascar colleagues and workshop participants at the restaurant in Hotel Radama. I decided to focus on Malagasy dishes, and ordered romazava (zebu with greens that made the mouth slightly numb).

I was able to sit next to one of the French students, Sebastian, who was so helpful in navigating the Malagasy dishes and finally solved our triangular log mystery! It’s actually a dessert called Koba, and is made with ground peanuts, sugar, and rice flour. The “bark” is the banana leaves it comes wrapped in. We also tried some of it, but was no match for the desserts of earlier this week.

Topping off the day: post-dinner spa time.

Mystery Logs

Last night, I learned that our hotel was designed by Mr. Eiffel himself! Apparently it was built in the 1930’s but its history was forgotten so by the 1990’s, it had become a supermarket and apartments. It was only in the last few decades while being converted into a hotel that they learned the truth of its design, but it sure put the steel beams into perspective.

Either I had a touch of jetlag this afternoon, or I’m finding it increasingly difficult to stay alert and attentive during the presentations and breakout groups. The highlight was talking shop with my GIS colleagues during our breaks.

Swapping technical tips.

GIS group photo!

Afterward I went with one of my coworkers on a quick stroll to explore the area around the hotel. First stop: the Hotel Colbert, the other really nice hotel, to buy a few of their fancy chocolates. It’s probably a good thing that our hotel offered a sauna rather than a chocolate shop. Walking past the presidential palace, it was only a few blocks before we were in an area of locals shopping at a small night market. Locals would appear from behind the stalls by climbing narrow flights of stairs between the buildings that disappeared around corners. Our curiosity almost took us down them, but given recent safety concerns and the likelihood of getting lost, we thought the better of it. The “highlight” was seeing a man carrying a tray of the mystery triangular logs I’d seen that first afternoon. We’d seen them a few times since driving around town, and all of our attempts to describe them to our Malagasy colleagues and expats only produced confused looks on their faces. We tried to follow him to snap an inconspicuous photo, but didn’t really succeed on either count.

Mystery logs--what do these look like to you?

After the previous night’s indulgence, the team opted to dine in at the hotel, which also meant more time for the spa. This hadn’t been a stressful trip so far, but it still felt great to stretch and relax after sitting on long plane rides and in workshops all day.

When we finally emerged for dinner, I opted for regional fare. The hotel’s chef was from Mauritius, a small island east of Madagascar that was also settled by the French, and the menu offered noodles cooked in their style. The dish was a great choice for me, but I made a grave error with my beverage. What the menu called “limonade” was actually “Bonbon Anglais”. Despite the name, I don’t think it’s really the fault of the British that this overly-sweet and not-that-tasty soda is on the market. An unfortunate end to an otherwise great day.

Explosion!

This morning I took a closer look at the taxis outside my window, and not only are they all the same color (not surprising), they’re vanilla-colored. Of course they are. And while the CI cars are fairly new SUVs, most of our fellow vehicles are Citrons and Pugets from bygone days.

view of vanilla taxies from my window

I think the terrible sleep schedule right before I left actually helped, as I slept fine on the flights (Tylenol PM helped) and sleeping in Jo-berg overnight was really a blessing. My coworkers coming in from Australia and LA must’ve really struggled at moments today. Knock on wood I've been fine, but sometimes it's a delayed reaction for me. 

The workshop began today, and on our way there we rounded the small lake I saw on the drive from the airport. It had looked lovely in the afternoon sun, with a tall work of art in the middle that we later learned was a WW1 monument. Unfortunately, upon my colleague's closer inspection in an attempted early-morning run it was not quite as lovely when viewed through a haze of diesel fumes...which did nothing to diminish the smell that comes from serving as a part-time public latrine. I was spared this full exposure as we drove past with the windows rolled up, but their attempt to jog in these conditions left both of them ill for a while.

Workshop participants (Rachel N.)

Thank goodness for translators! (Rachel N.)

The workshop was in French, but the translators were excellent and it was interesting to see the comments our participants provided. That being said, my favorite part was eating lunch on the rooftop, taking in my surroundings while picking the brains of our fellow attendees on Madagascar.

Dinner was a special occasion, and while we only walked down the block we stepped back in time. The restaurant was called La Varangue, and the owner liked to collect objects from the colonial period and display them throughout the restaurant. Old lanterns, cameras, telephones, and teakettles were grouped and displayed throughout the restaurant—probably nothing less than 80 years old. Our waiter led us to a room with a phonograph, and upon our request he was kind enough to wind it up so we could hear the tinny sounds of its old French jazz record. They didn’t have a menu in English, so he patiently translated and read it to us aloud in the softest, smoothest voice you could imagine. My meal, duck and risotto with a blackberry sauce, was a delicious work of art.

Bon appetit!

But the best was yet to come. All of the desserts sounded amazing, and my coworkers confirmed it with their choices, but I chose the item that simply said “Explosion” (no translation necessary). It turned out to be dessert and a show—how many desserts warrant a video?

Awaiting our explosion. (Rachel N.)

The phone didn’t do it justice, but basically it consisted of a chocolate sphere with macarons attached, and the waiter poured molten chocolate over it to reveal a bit of pear, chocolate mousse, and whipped cream. Wow.

Workshop prep

Our hotel is called "Le Louvre" and has a display of local wood carvings in the lobby...and port holes in the floor so you can look down on the pool in their basement. The spa area downstairs is nice by even US standards, and in addition to the pool area there are steam and dry saunas.

In true European fashion, our rooms are on the "3rd" floor, but they only start counting after the ground floor and mezzanine. The elevators are fast, but the spiral stairs are in a verdant inner courtyard so I mix it up getting there. They put a fresh rose in a bud vase in the bathroom--so far I've had a red one and a white one. 

Such a little touch makes it feel so classy, despite the fact that the angled bathroom had a door that opens against the toilet and a shower door that only opens enough for you to bend your knee into, not sideways, when getting in (learned that painful lesson this morning).

But my favorite part is the view from my window, overlooking the city and high enough up that I can lean out and observe the people below without being noticed.

view from my window

After a filling breakfast that was part western, part Malagasy (rice with sautéed greens and ginger chicken alongside scrambled eggs) we hopped in the CI cars to go to the office and I was eager to observe more of the city. 

cozy in the CI car (Rachel N.)

Many buildings in town were built when it was still a French colony, with varying degrees of maintenance over the decades. And lots of things feel foreign, but they've planted jacaranda and bougainvillea in a few spots so that reminds me of home. As we drove there, I started to realize that Tana (Antananarivo) is laid out like a giant game of Shoots and Ladders. With so many hills, you have narrow cobblestone streets winding around the hillsides (shoots) connected by narrow flights of stairs disappearing around corners and behind buildings (ladders). The streets were full of cars, but compared to southeast Asia I’d expected to see more scooters and bikes. Perhaps it’s the steep hills?

the hills of Tana (Natalia A.)

At the office, we were warmly greeted by our colleagues, and I finally had a chance to put faces with email addresses. I also felt a little like Santa, as we had travelled with several books, electronics, and even camping equipment for our Malagasy colleagues. Thankfully most of it was able to fit in our checked bags, and leaves more room for bringing souvenirs home. After introductions and a planning conversation, we got to work with our counterparts preparing our presentations for the workshop. Thankfully our US colleague leading the production piece had put together a great presentation so my Malagasy counterpart and I only needed to make a few tweaks.

Our office here is 3 stories, and the higher your rank, the lower your office (the junior staff have to climb all the way up and their offices get hotter). Its backyard neighbor is a watercress field, and there are several international NGOs nearby. I tried tilapia fried in Malagasy fashion for lunch, which turned out to be the whole fish fried in a bit of batter. For all my attempts at eating it, there wasn’t much meat on it so I was grateful for the rice. Finishing a bit early, we came back to the hotel and had some spa time before dinner. I could really get used to this!

Tonight I rode in a pre-1960 Citron taxi to a restaurant called Sakamanga for the best meal so far: chicken breast in a vanilla sauce (with a vanilla bean for garnish), sautéed potatoes, and green beans cooked with more butter and salt than I should probably be aware of. Top it off with a chocolate mousse and I'm a happy eater! I'll probably have only Malagasy food to choose from this weekend when we head south, so I'll enjoy the variety while it lasts. The currency here is the Malagasy Ariary, with an exchange rate of ~2,400:$1. Basically, I'm getting used to seeing lots of zeros and paying very little for wonderful meals.

Chicken breast in a vanilla sauce--surprising flavor combination that worked well together

Off to Lemur-land

When I told people where I was going, the top 3 questions were:
“Where is that again?“
“Why are you going?” and
“Did any of the lemurs talk to you?”

So let’s get those out of the way:
1) Madagascar is off the east coast of Africa, closest to Mozambique. It’s a former French colony, the 4^th largest island in the world, has plants and animals found nowhere else, and has only been inhabited for the last 2,000 years by people originally from Polynesia and southeast Asia.
2) I’m providing GIS analytical and mapping support to a project looking at creating a methodology for our metrics by testing it in two countries where we work, one of which is Madagascar. This workshop was to meet with local experts and confirm whether we’re measuring the right things and using the right data to do it. I was lucky enough to tag along and present on one of the aspects: production (agriculture and mining).
3) Yes, but not in a language that I could understand.

But more on all of this later. 

Just getting there was a 9,000-mile adventure in two acts. Act one: DC to Johannesburg, South Africa. Plenty of time for movies ­and sleep, and something new: spraying the interior of the plane just before takeoff if that plane’s going into or out of South Africa (I’ve since learned it’s common in the tropics, and is to kill any malaria-carrying mosquitoes that may be hiding near your overhead luggage). The other health aspect was screening passengers upon arrival for temperature (looking for Ebola symptoms?). I normally try to make the most of long layovers, but for safety reasons this time I opted to go straight to the hotel and savor a few hours of sleeping on a flat surface. The next morning, I awoke fairly refreshed and greeted two of my coworkers at the airport who’d just arrived from a meeting in Australia. It was good to see familiar faces, but it also made me grateful for my overnight stay.

A relatively short flight later and we arrived in the capital, Antananarivo. We were met by one of the office’s full-time drivers, which was great because without him I’m not sure I could’ve navigated their customs desks.

On the drive in from the airport, the biggest building way on the outskirts of town was the US Embassy. They were building a large church next door, which I later learned will be a Mormon chapel!

My first impressions: rice paddies on the outskirts of town featuring an occasional zebu (their cow with a hump on its back), mud bricks drying by the side of the road, and lots of people walking.

Rice paddies just outside Tana on the road from the airport.

Once we checked into our hotel at the top of a hill, I went for a quick stroll with my coworkers on a wide boulevard at the bottom of the hill before it got dark. All of the buildings were old and in various conditions, there were fenced-off parks in the median, crowds watching street performers, and a few people getting rides on tired-looking horses. After all those hours on a plane, I’m not sure I’m one to talk. We also saw men carrying trays of a mysterious substance. It looked like a triangular log, the color of either wood or jerky, with a darker outer covering. I was curious, but too tired to attempt communicating in a language I don’t speak. Soon we trudged up the flights of stairs (over 160) back to the hotel, where we met up with the rest of our coworkers who’d arrived earlier and headed to dinner. The restaurant, KUDéTA, featured a Malagasy-French fusion menu. In that spirit, I ordered zebu medallions with mushrooms, and a tart with ginger and pineapple for dessert.

View from the top of the stairs to our hotel. (Rachel N.)