I was not really sure what to expect of Antananarivo, the capital of Madagascar. The fact that I was only one of twelve passengers of the Air Madagascar flight on the first day of South African Easter holidays hardly filled me with confidence. “Perhaps this has something to do with the airline’s reputation?” said a man from Johannesburg sitting in a seat somewhat close to me. I was not so interested to hear what that reputation was.


After close to three hours Madagascar appeared beneath us in the middle of the emerald Indian Ocean and within a few minutes we were descending through the sparse clouds down to the runway . Antananarivo (or Tana to most people refer to it) had an airport that resembled a glorified shed, not an International Terminus. This also appeared to be its first visiting jet airliner this century, as a very manual operation to unload us and our bags was commenced. Despite the scarcity of international visitors, the three immigration officials still managed to take 30 minutes to process us and release us into another part of the shed where a clearly antique belt chugged our baggage violently in front of three very keen porters.


The arrivals hall resembled a market and I was quickly met by my taxi man, who at first seemed very unfriendly. However when he realised that I was not French he completely changed and was a bundle of laughs and smiles with broken English. The airport was a good 15 kms from the city which was drooped over a couple of hills in the distance. We chugged and rattled along in his antique Renault 4, he laughing at my awful schoolboy French with some bad Italian thrown in for good measure, whilst I tried to learn some basic Malagasy .


Once in Tana things became clearer and it was not quite as I had expected. The city was spread over several tall hills, with windy cobbled (well in my area) streets snaking away in no discernible plan. Once in a while an old colonial building or street would pop into view, crowded and full of old Renaults, Citrons and the occasional Tuk Tuk. All in all it was rather charming with markets, patisseries, pharmacies and locals carrying shopping bags, baguettes and baskets on their heads. All very….. French. Except everyone was Madagascan.


I stayed at the Tana Jacaranda Guesthouse in the tourist part of the city next to the main old colonial government buildings. It was halfway up one of those cobbled streets overlooking the Lake Anosy and with a good view of the Royal Palace on the opposite hill. It was friendly and full of creaky old wooden floors and I pitted the guests on the floor beneath me.


That night I met a American called Scott from California and several animal researchers who were also staying in the guesthouse. Scott was really the only other traveller and we got on well. Like me he appeared to only have a rough idea of where to go on the island. I had, since Fish Hoek changed my mind and my route twice already, and was now totally confused. Consequently I began to feel that only a visit to the Tourist Information HQ in the Centre Ville had a chance of sorting out my indecision. The next day I set off through the windy streets, past the grand government buildings and through a small park past some souvenir sellers onto the Av de Independence. This grand sounding street looked more like a car parking lot, initially - but on closer inspection I found many of these parked cars were actually shops, with people in the front seats selling phones, mending electrical appliances and doing all sorts of trade next to the shops that lined the Avenue. At the far end the magnificent Gare Soarano dominated the Avenue. Over one hundred years old it is little used nowadays and was recently converted into a high end shopping mall, with a high class parisian Bistro at one end. The occasional (appropriately named Mad Rail train passes through) but all in all it was just for the tourists and ex-pats. However, the Lonely Planet had said the Info HQ was here…  yet I soon discovered, the government had moved it some three years ago - to the airport (useless)!


Frustrated I managed to stumble across a private travel agency in a neighbouring street (no street markings or signs in Antananarivo), who were very helpful. After an hour they came up with some suggestions and I managed to find the National Parks HQ who provided some further tips. My biggest breakthrough came with a very helpful lady at Air Madagascar HQ, who promptly informed me she could give me 50% discount (as I had arrived with Air Madagascar) on all domestic flights. This hugely inspired some confidence in me that I could venture up to one of the most remote parts of the country, the North East, to the Maroujejy NP to possibly get a chance to see the rare “Angel of the Jungle” - the Silky Sifaka. I had not anticipated the flights being this competitive and banked on having to endure at least a two three day plus journey in the back of a truck. Whilst I am reasonably experienced in the ‘journeys from hell’ pantheon, what I had read about Madagascar did fill me with in-trepidation. However this news was a real tonic and within 24 hours all three flights were sorted and booked for a sum of money that which was just slightly more than one flight’s full price quoted in the Lonely Planet.


My first travel though was to Andasibe, four hours east by Taxi Brousse (a kind of taxi in a minibus) the following day, so it was time to get ready. I had a long chat with Scott in a nice cafe in the park and he decided he would come with me to Andasibe as well - which was nice to have a bit of company. He had been in Tana a while and he seemed ready for a change and he was on his was to the East coast so Andasibe was a good stop over.


I had dinner in the Guesthouse with some of the other guests. We all ate in the guesthouse as not only was the food good and value for money but the reputation for crime in Antananarivo after nightfall is legendary. There were notices all over the hotel warning about the level of crime and as now I don't drink, I thought, well whats the point venturing out.


The next morning, Scott and I caught a taxi to the Taxi Brousse Depot and boarded a minibus bound for Andasibe.