Antananarivo, Madagascar

Ive been here less than 24 hours, and I must say I am at a loss to describe the place (Antananarivo that is). It feels so familar, yet so ridiculously foreign
some reflections on the last 20 hrs...

• the smell of of the indian guys I was squeezed between on the flight in.
• the humidity.
• relief that customs and visas took 5 min.
• dinner at an upper class french resteraunt with a jewish guy I met on the plane (jeremy) who scarily reminds me of Fred.
• drinking beer and eating zebu whilst being serenaded in french by an over exuberant malagasy man .
• tossing and turning all night as my mind made a feeble attempt to catch up with my body .
• watching a man defecate in the drain outside my room.


• the stunning views of antananarivo- jacaranda lines lakes, small european style buildings crowding into every nook of the undulating hills. steep staircases and narrow cobbled streets with renaults fighting for right of way.


• wooden scaffolding on building sites.



• road works with fires by the sides of the road heating up drums full of bitumen, spread by the wheelbarrow load.
  
  
• croissants and a shot of expresso for breakfast- parlevou fronce? nope. i wish.


• more language problems: chronic giggles when I thought I had ordered vegetables and rice for lunch and the waitress arrived with a cheese pizza.



• market stalls lining the streets, people, cars, vegetables, shoes, flowers...


• the glazed eyes of a dead man lying on the road in a pool of blood. life is cheap apparently.


• the beggars. so many, but today one of them scored a cheese pizza :)








• the beautiful universality of a smile and nod of acknowledgement.


• little groups of men playing dominoes in an alleyway.
  
  
  
• a woman breastfeeding, perched by the side of the road...
  i think you get the picture...or some of it at least