120 Miles, Great Road….9 HOURS!

The travel woes continue. Dozens of times I have traveled the paved road from Diego to Ambanja in about 4-5 hours. The route is the commencement of the longest infrastructural development project in Madagascar running the entire length of the 4th largest island in the world. Back in my beloved Northern niche of the island, soaking up the heat, understanding the grunts and idiosyncrasies of my dialect, I jumped into a taxi brousse with renewed energy ready to face the challenge of visiting my new site and moving in the following day with any luck. Expertly hailing a taxi to take me to the Ambanja taxi station, I was beaming with excitement. I made it back and things were going to be new and exciting yet again! Upon arrival at the Ambanja station ten boys/men came sprinting towards my taxi, opening the truck and attempting to grab my bags and screaming at me in various languages that they thought I might speak. I calmly picked up my bags and parted the sea. No taxis to speak of just drivers waiting for their lackeys to pick up people around town to fill up the car. I got in the first taxi that arrived. VITAL MISTAKE!

Driving down the same stretch of the road for literally 1 ½ hours, screaming out the window to transit looking people with bags or other paraphernalia “Ambanja, Lets go”! The route was the same, back to the station to see if any new victims arrived and down the stretch again. Almost becoming an accomplice to a murder towering high in the front seat, our driver decided he would dominate the boys/men running to the arriving taxi by simply slamming his foot on the gas landing his minibus alarmingly close to the arriving women. Clearly the lady would have no other choice but to get into his taxi. Wrong again…she simply got out of her car, shot him a dirty look and walked to another nearby taxi joining different gang of desperate travelers.

The minibus was finally overfilled with its minimum 14 passengers and on its way. Early on I became wise to the ways of the driver; multi-tasking was not a particular strength of his. While speaking to me the car would slow to a painful 40km/hr and while using his cell phone a snails pace of 30km/hr but while driving we were puttering along at a respectable 80km/hr.

His lack of multi-tasking skills was very disappointing as one of my favorite parts of the trip is watching my usual driver perform his morning routine. First, the razor is slid shyly out of the glove box followed by 15-20 minutes of running a dry bic over his face with frequent glances in the mirror. Next, 30 minutes of toothpick chewing, pushing and sucking. Only to be followed by a quick arm pit check. Shirt pulled up, hands under pits directly to nose. Total estimated time of activities…1 hour.

Yearning for the usual experience after 5 hours in the car and only 100km complete, we finally arrive at the ½ way point of the voyage. Praying the driver lied to me this time (as they usually do trying to pick passengers up) and was not really going all the way to Ambanja, I got up the nerve to ask him. Luck and time were not on my side. As usual most of the passengers got out and the search for more continues. The driver leaves the mini-bus in the care of his lackeys from this town. Our search beings with the van rolling backwards all the way down the hill we were parked on. There is a reason these guys are not yet drivers. After 2 hours of driving around town, picking up people and then their luggage we are off again. The point of tears came when 4 of us jumped in the front seat; the woman next to the driver appeared to be his next love interest. Naturally, he positioned her in the seat next to him straddling the gear shift. Not jealous of the position but yet another huge distraction for Mr. ADD, I let out a huge sigh. After 9 hours, various stops and puttering along we finally arrived in Ambanja. When I asked him his name and where he lives he asked me why. I told him it took him 9 hours to get here. His new found love responded, “Well, it’s far”. I just walked away and reminded myself this is not America.