Morondava to Tsingy de Bemaraha, Madagascar

It’s a long, arduous bus ride from Tana to Morondava on the west coast, 700 km away. My guidebook from just a few years ago says it’s 12 hours. Nowadays, even in the best of taxi-brousse (bush taxi) options (companies such as Cotisse, Soatrans, or Kompima with better-maintained vans, assigned seating, and scheduled departure times as opposed to the vast majority: duct-taped vans struggling up even the slightest incline, passenger overloading, and departures when full), it’s 16 hours on one of Madagascar’s few paved national routes, riddled with deep potholes and washouts.

Well, infrastructure has clearly gotten worse over the years. But heading west from the capital, everything in general seems a bit sparser. The towns get smaller to the point of being one-street villages with over-manned police checkpoints that seem present only for bribes (and they certainly don’t care if the vehicle’s not roadworthy), the houses become more modest until they’re just straw and mud shacks, electricity poles are replaced by portable solar panels to charge phones and flashlights, virtually no economy exists, and there’s a lot more children around working in the rice terraces or herding zebus, even on a weekday — school is too expensive for many families. There’s also a pretty despairing sight around many of the potholed sections of road, given that all vehicles must slow down for them: children and adults selling meagre items or even begging. I never once saw a successful attempt.

Morondava’s on the beach but it’s more for fishing than for swimming or relaxing. There’s one thing people come here for: the Avenue of the Baobabs just outside of town, one of Madagascar’s iconic tourist sites. It’s more surprising just how many tourists I’m seeing who’ve made it this far — especially Asian tourists as old as my parents!
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