The train ride

My forrays on the beaten path continue. Note that I am one of the rare ones to call this the beaten path. Mada has very little tourism, so one could consider the whole island as off the path. But it is so safe, so easy to travel through that, I must use the word, it all feels normal.

I took the train from Fianar to Manakara and back. This train is the highlight of many a tourist's trip. It leaves early in the morning, making its way east and south through mountains, jungles, rice paddies, banana plantations, past waterfalls and cliffs, over bridges and under tunnels, stopping regularly at villages to load and unload merchandise, be it pigs or bananas, until it reaches the open fields of the East Coast and the coastal town of Manakara.
I woke up early Saturday morning and made my way to the train station to find a very long queue. Happily Florent, a French guy I'd met two nights before and who wanted to take the train, was a little way in front, allowing me to cut the wait by a bit. Still by the time we got the counter, there were no more seated or standing spots in first class, so we had to buy a second class ticket. We made for the platform and the two second class wagons; the first wagon was too full, but the second was even worst so we pushed into the first. Putting down our bags was difficult but we managed. Remembering India, I thought we'd stay near the open door, sit on the sill when the train got going and enjoy the scenery. Looking outside the wagon, I could see there still many people trying to get in. I figured they wouldn't, but damn, was I wrong!

Soon the only way I could move was to shift my weight from one leg to another. I felt another leg on mine, slowly slipping onto my still tender blisters, but I could do nothing. I couldn't turn around, and by looking over my shoulder, I could see the man doing the crime was out of my reach, behind two others. Luckily the chef de gare decided to add a wagon; I asked a guy to reserve a few seats, tipped him, and had a nice friendly ride for the trip. I've described the scenery but that is not the nicest aspect of ride: at every stop, villagers sold various foods, fruits, beignets, cakes, breads, and so on. My pocket was full of 500 FMG notes (about 8 cents), the price of all these things. I ate royally and throughout the whole trip. Hence I recommend this train ride.

Manakara was a pleasant town. Florent provided much of the entertainement. He is a medical student, so imagine the conversations. On my part I enjoyed corrupting him with the ways of Madagascar. First thing we did was to be pushed 3 kms with our luggage by a guy half our size to our hotel for 5000 fmg. Once there, the pousse-pousse driver asked for twice the amount since there were two of us. I refused automatically and categorically, threatening the driver to take him to the police station if he persisted. Florent was torn; it was only 40 cents of a euro more for him. And the man had sweated for our pleasure. He made the right choice and refused the driver's demands. A small matter, but a big change.

Now, I am going North towards Tana.