Sunny Hotel Mahajanga
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Travel Blogs from Mahajanga
Still stranded in Mahajanga/Amborovy
Alright, we're still here, waiting for the plane on Thursday (tomorrow now). Nearly getting acclimatised to the heat, and then it rains. It's not supposed to, but last night we experienced a deluge as only you can above the Tropic of Capricorn. Cooled things down a treat, and it's spitting again as I write. Finally coming to terms with the touts and drivers as well. Apparently a friendly toned barrage of Aussie ...
Food, Francs & Relaxation
... or unsuspecting tourists. Especially true if you don't speak perfect French (or Malagasy). How do we know? Ripped on a bottle of scotch, paid nearly $15.00 AUD, instead of the $3 it should have cost me. Wasn't thinking at the time as Aussie alcohol costs so much. We were informed by a nice French couple afterwards of the difference and have since been asking the question constantly "Francs or Ariary?". Once asked, the shop owner will sheepishly convert ...
Buffeted & Baked (at least the nights are cool)
... mini-bus. It seems that Trans-Post have steped into the void that is Madagascan public transport and begun to offer the only alternative to a Taxi-Brousse or a plane. Alternative? Didn't really see the difference between the Trans-Post vehicle and a Taxi-Brousse, although to be fair there were less of us on the vehicle, and our luggage was actually strapped on top. Note: when taking the Trans-Post, they mean 20kg per person (they actually weigh ...
Majunga
... got no choice Me and you are subject to The blues now and then But when you take the blues And make a song You sing 'em out again Song sung blue, weeping like a willow Song sung blue, sleeping on my pillow Funny thing, But you can sing it with a cry in your voice And before you know it start to feeling good You simply got no choice Song sung blue Song sung blue Funny thing, But you can sing it with a cry in your ...
I found a gold mine. literally.
... that I managed to attract one of my most amusing suitors of all time - a small man from India, 23 years in age, possibly the most ridiculous dancer I have ever seen. Now most guys, even the persistant ones, you can get rid of by a nice mix of ignoring, refusing to talk to them, and blatently looking really unhappy. Not him. Not even a dent in that steel resolve of his that had decided that he WOULD buy me a drink, we WOULD talk, we WOULD dance, and ...
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