Venues

PAKISTAN - AUTUMN OF 2005
Photo Gallery of the Pakistan Earthquake Aftermath




As many of you know I had scheduled one of my fund-raising shows for the victims of the Kashmir Earthquake that occurred on October 8 th for January with the money going as usual to Doctors without Borders and that is that.

It is on the instigation of my dear friend Mahmood Poonja, who invited me to come here, see for myself and come up with ideas on what to do effectively for the people that were affected by this horrible catastrophe. Mahmood’s brother runs Sitara Travels, a destination management company in Pakistan, so the possibility of actual oversight was very good.

Needless to say that I jumped at the idea of coming here, as I had been to Pakistan 3 times before and truly loved the people and the stunning landscapes of this country. I immediately contacted my good friend Allan Ronneseth of Trek Holidays to see if I could get a cheap air fare to Pakistan and he managed to get me a free pass on Cathay Pacific via Hong Kong to Karachi. It seems that everybody who has ever been to Pakistan was really trying to help. No wonder as Pakistan is one of the most beautiful destinations on Earth, a little known fact.

Upon arrival in Karachi, Shiraz, Mahmood’s brother had already made the arrangements for my flight to Islamabad on a complimentary basis on Air Blue a new domestic carrier.

Upon arrival in Islamabad, Shiraz had already organized a big van, tents and even cooking facilities for the trip. He also provided me with Khaled, a wonderful guide of his Marco Polo adventure division and Rashid, the most senior of his drivers. I did arrive in Pakistan at Eid, the Muslim equivalent of our Christmas Holidays, where children get toys, adults stuff their faces and families gather. I is quite remarkable that these people were more than willing to go and share this very special holiday carting me around.

We left Islamabad at Noon, after the very important prayers for Eid. On the entire journey through Kashmir, we had several stops for Rashid to pray and fulfill his various religious commitments. First we drove through the resort area of Murree, where the locals go on holidays to escape the summer heat. It is filled with advertisements for condominiums and summer cottages. The whole area looks quite similar to the Caribou with lovely pine forests set in the mountains.

We reached the decision to first head south to see other affected areas, about 100 Km south of Muzaffarabad, like Kohala, Dhirkot, and the town of Bagh. It got dark very quickly around 5:30 as we arrived in Bagh, a town that has been 45% destroyed.

We went to a refugee camp at night. What is truly amazing is that these camps have had electricity in less than 48 hours after the earthquake struck. As it was Eid, our equivalent of Christmas, all the children were dressed in their finest and were playing with their toys, the boys with new plastic guns and the girls with their new dolls.

The people were gathered around small campfires cooking their evening meal and in quiet conversation. What impressed me the most was the gentle and dignified manner in which they confronted their fate. The camp has been put together by the families themselves in conjunction with some Muslim aid organizations. The men told me that their biggest need is for metal sheets to be able to survive the winter, as they realize that their current tents will not allow their families to survive winter. Some of the men came to me and greeted me warmly. Several invited me for tea and thanked me effusively for simply just being there. Throughout my visit to Kashmir hundreds of people thanked me for just coming and having a look, they profusely thanked all the foreigners that had come to help in small and big ways.

We managed to pitch our tents at an Army engineers encampment in Bagh. As per usual we were invited for tea by the foot soldiers who where encamped here. One of the most remarkable questions I had from one of them, is why I was so kind to them, as they usually just get screamed at by their higher ups. I had a fun discussion with the soldiers about religion, politics & sex, as the cold weather was more than obvious. After an earthquake of this magnitude it is actually quite surprising what sort of opinions and statements came from these humble Pakistanis: “Bush and Bin Laden are in business together” or “People should not be so religious, it brings too many problems”. “Where was god when the earthquake happened” “Can men marry other men in Canada?”

In Ghari Dopatta I encountered the Canadian DART team and had a visit of their facilities. They have fairly large field hospital there in addition to three satellite facilities. The water purification plant was cleaning 113,000 litres of potable water per day, that are than handed over OXFAM and other ngos for distribution throughout the region. According to their spokeswoman the water here was so much worse than in Sri Lanka, where the seawater had mixed in with the fresh water. The E-coli count went well over their maximum due to all the corpses and carcasses in the water. I felt that our tax dollars are very well spent, in spite of the complaints of the Conservative Party of Canada. These people are doing a truly fantastic job and wish Canadian media outlets would focus a bit more on it.

Talking about our compatriots, I met some wonderful Canadian doctors and nurses working in the small hospital that was left in Muzaffarabad. They had paid out of their own pockets to get their tickets here and taken vacation time to come and help. They belong to an organization I had never heard of before, called Canadian Relief Foundation (www.canadianrelief.ca). It was so wonderful to see their happy faces as they were tending to the gangrenous wounds of their patients. Their attitude was of sheer delight to be able to do something for people in need and their only complaint was that there was not enough pain medication, as the local health professionals do not much believe in pain management, as we could hear the screams and whimpers coming from the operating theatre next door. They come in rotations of three weeks at the time from all over Canada. This is a charity that I will definitely promote in all my future fund-raising efforts.The Canadians also worked together with a wonderful team of Cuban surgeons and other doctors, who in the true nature of their country gave the whole effort a great deal of human warmth, most characteristic of the people of that island.

Both Cubans and Canadians commented on having difficulties in dealing with local customs and religion – “Let my wife die, rather than to be touched by another man” one man said to a Cuban surgeon” “This is a punishment from God for the prostitutes, homosexuals and pedophiles amongst our midst” “This is a punishment from God for not praying enough” and that sort of thing. Of course we all know that god punished the people of Kashmir for choosing the obscurantist religion of Islam.

On a funny note, on my way back from the Indian border, I ran into a French reporter for Magnum on the way to the Line of Control who asked me if I also was taking pictures of the earthquake and I told him that I was only a nature photographer and was truly enjoying taking pictures of the stunning Jelhum Valley and its lovely pine trees and birds and butterflies. You should have seen his face. It seemed that the chap actually believed what I was saying. My guide and I had a good laugh and I wonder what will be printed in French Media. The valley is actually beautiful and less than a 100 Km from Srinagar.

BALAKOT

Balakot was the most affected town. It is situated in the beautiful Kagan Valley (think of Banff-Lake Louise). The city of about 40,000 made its living from catering to tourists and had many hotels, restaurants, souvenir shops and the like. There is nothing left. For example only the top floor of a three-story hotel was jutting out of the rubble. The schools and the hospital, as well as the police station looked like nothing recognizable, reminding me only of pictures I had seen of Hiroshima or Dresden in 1945.

Old Balakot, the beautifully located hilltop town is 100% destroyed with not a single structure standing, not even roads. The government has simply declared it a cemetery, but there are quite a few people on the hill. I took a rather strenuous hike on the hill covered in heaps of rubble, where ordinary household goods were mixed in with just chunks of cement. A mosque was only recognizable because the minarets pieces where so obvious. School books and toys scattered on the ground indicated the presence of children.

Occasionally a sweet stench rising from the rubble indicated the presence of rotting corpses that had not been recovered. At one pile of rubble a man was furiously hacking away as he was trying to recover the body of his best friend and his entire family to give them a proper burial.

On another rooftop, three boys were happily laughing and playing with pink nail polish on the roof of a house, with not a worry in the world. Next to them a stunned looking man, their father, who told me that they had spent all their savings on the new house and had just moved in a month before. On the rubble below him was his wife crying relentlessly as they had lost two daughters and his mother.

A boy has a poster of the beautiful lakes of the area and his friend is holding at a poster portraying Saddam Hussein in his glory days. A politician from Benazir Bhutto’s party runs around talking to possible voters on all this rubble, as there are political profits to be made. He is a very friendly chap who knows his business very well. He does invite me to his relief camp, to which I went later, but aside of pictures of Madame Bhutto there is not much.

We handed out Eid money to various jeep drivers in Balakot, they where all smiles and kind and friendly, as people here tend to be with the normal kind chatter. As we bade them farewell one jeep driver was giving me a very long and warm hug to say goodbye and at the same time tells me “I lost my wife”, with an incredible amount of aplomb and dignity – it broke my heart.

As I was sitting in the tub enjoying a warm bath in Peshawar, I came to realize that it was a privilege the people of Balakot enjoyed only a month ago. Now they have to go to sleep in a makeshift tent in a cold winter’s night

AFGHANISTAN - AUTUMN OF 2005
Photo Gallery of Afghanistan

I am writing this from Hong Kong with a bit of perspective. After spending three more days in the earthquake area in Kashmir and Balakot, we drove to Peshawar along the Grand Trunk Road, built by the British over a century ago to link Peshawar with Calcutta. It is in Peshawar also where the legendary Khyber Pass begins and so we started our journey by having freshly squeezed sugar cane juice from a street vendor. As always it was tasty and gave me an energy boost for the long journey to the Torkham Border and into Afghanistan. I had driven the Khyber Pass to Landi Kotal in 1999 and was much surprised by the huge amounts of traffic that went down the pass now; many container trucks with huge loads were maneuvering the tight curves all.

The crossing into Afghanistan was a breeze: I met my new guide right at the border and we walked over, after exiting Pakistan. The whole procedure took less than 5 minutes. The drive from Torkham to Jalalabad was on a horrible road, cut into many dusty little pieces and it felt that we were driving in slalom, using the main highway as the center line for the slalom. Effectively it made a 56 Km journey more like a150 Km in actual terms. Upon arrival at the Hotel in Jalalabad, the first thing I noticed was the no machine guns inside sign, essentially a Kalashnikov image with the red x painted on it. The hotel, which in its day had beautiful rose gardens, has definitely seen better days, but with an adequate revamp it would be a quite beautiful property.

On the next day we were supposed to drive to Kabul in the morning, but the highway is broken up into so many bits that the road effectively goes along a path only apt for goats and sheep, here were the truth of all those 4x4 adverts comes into being. Well the motions and vibrations inside the brand new Toyota Truck made one fully understand how shaken-baby syndrome feels. The 100 Km journey took 6 hours, after eating about 2 Kg of dust per hour. Theoretically that day the traffic was only to be from Kabul to Jalalabad until 2 PM and the traffic went in the reverse way, but I insisted to my guide we leave at 5 AM, so to be able to see a bit more of Kabul. The gamble paid off and we were in Kabul by 1 PM traveling along side some spectacular landscapes, provided you could see them through the dust. I checked in to the Intercontinental Hotel, yes the SAME Intercontinental that was there before the Russians invaded, with the same carpets, shower curtains and other 70s décor; well with fashion being what it is I guess the hotel is very fashionable again with the green and orange tones, albeit the furniture nor the bathroom fixtures have been changed since about 1977. Until about a week ago, it was actually the best game in town, filled with characters that come straight out of a Vicky Baum novel: Russian drug barons, Norwegian soldiers celebrating a birthday with a cake, ladies from one of the 7,000 ngos working in Afghanistan chattering about this very important meeting and that very important meeting, whilst the indolent staff looked very bored and barely moved.

That afternoon we visited the former King’s mausoleum, a shot up shell of a cupola filled with bullet holes. The mausoleum affords a panoramic view of all over Kabul, but what you could really see in all directions was the horrible air pollution, as the city sits in a valley where all the smog accumulates and in winter the thermal inversion prevents the dirty air from leaving the valley. Accompanying the dirty air was the chaotic traffic that afflicts Kabul, to drive 5 blocks at times can take well over 45 minutes.

In the evening we went to park that is surrounded by all sorts of local restaurants serving Afghan food, which is similar in nature to Uzbek or Iranian food, not at all spicy and mostly consisting of Kebabs and rice.

Kabul truly reminded me of Santiago de Chile in the 70s, with the smog, the drab buildings and a traumatized people that had nothing to breath but hatred from all sides of the political and religious spectrum. Whatever went on in Chile in 1973 pales in comparison with what the poor wretched inhabitants underwent in almost 30 years of non-stop war and violence.

The legacy of the Taliban reminded me quite a bit of what I saw in Cambodia after the Khmer Rouge was done with the country; oddly enough both situations are byproducts of the cold war. After the Americans screwed up South East Asia, people such as the Khmer Rouge had a chance to fulfill their mad and evil agenda… and after the Soviets screwed up Central Asia, people such as the Taliban had a chance to fulfill their mad and evil agenda.

The Khmer Rouge (encouraged by Red China and the USSR) smashed up the most beautiful site in Angkor Wat in the name of some twisted stone-aged idea of Communism and the Taliban (basically created by the United States) smashed up the beautiful Buddhas in Bamian in the name of some twisted idea of what Islam is meant to be in the XXI Century. Never mind what happened in New York & Washington 4 months later.

I cannot make a comparison to Rwanda, as I have not visited yet that great site of human heritage. However when it comes to organization and efficiency in killing and robbing people nobody has yet beat the Nazis.

Next morning we left for Bamian, where once the giant Buddhas stood. The road was 220 Km and the journey took about 11 hours to complete. This time around we did the journey in a comfortable minivan, that ended up being much better suited to road than the fancy 4x4. The landscapes were truly breathtaking, so part of the length of the journey must be blamed on too many photo stops. What really stuck me the most about this journey was that the children always started to literally run for the lives as I was attempting to take photos of them, they actually though that my camera with the big lens was a gun and that I was about to shoot them, as the Taliban and frightened American soldiers do quite routinely. I did manage however to get some awesome pictures of children playing on an abandoned Russian tank.

We arrived in Bamian in the middle of darkness, as the temperature started to drop. The “hotel” consisted of a building whose main centre was a woodstove and a TV with Satellite uplink, compliments of a crew of NHK Tokyo that where filming a documentary about Buddhist heritage in Bamian. The friendly hotel manager immediately offered as some delicious green tea (very necessary to cut the fat in Afghan food). Also a petrol heater was places in the room that was to be mine for 2 nights. The temperature that night dropped to minus 12 C and in the morning we trouble to start the minivan, despite pouring boiling water on the battery. It took about 45 minutes to get the thing started, but after that it went well. On those roads it is not unusual with to have several flat tyres, as we did. Our clever driver and mechanic did have two spares on board and managed the treacherous roads with an incredible sense of grace and humour.

The hotel was perched over the Bamian Valley and had the most magnificent view of the numerous caves, including the niches were the giant Buddha statues once stood. We went right away to the site of the Budhhas, as there are some remaining frescoes inside the caves. There are plans to rebuild both statues and UNESCO reckons that this process will take about 5 years. The city of Bamian was actually a large sanctuary of the Ghandara Buddhist Civilization, until it was smashed up completely by Genghis Khan in the Middle Ages and later forcibly converted to Islam by the Arab invaders.

We have all read about the barbaric act of the Taliban in shelling of the Buddhas in May 2001. What is a little know fact is heinous atrocity they committed in March 2001, when in one day they shot the entire Shiite population of Bamian; well over 4,500 men, women and children lost their lives that day, because their idea of God is slightly different…

After visiting the archaeological site we went into the town of Bamian, were everybody insisted in having their photograph taken, the men and boys that is, as the women were firmly hidden behind their burqas and their owners might get mighty upset if I were to dare to take a snap.

In the late afternoon, we went for a 3-hour drive to Bandi-Amir, an area with the most beautiful lakes tucked away in the Hindu Kush at 3,500 m altitude. These five stunning lakes lie on this very special high plateau with one cascading into a plateau and then into the next lake, the surrounding landscape looks like the Grand Canyon and the spectacle of the lights and shadows makes for a magnificent natural spectacle. The lakes are legendary and of great significance to the Shiite population of Afghanistan. The Taliban had serious plans to blow them up as well, but did not complete this project as they were (Allah be praised) bombed to smithereens by the Americans in 2001.

At the bottom of one of the lakes are evacuation channels that are used by the local population as grist mills for flour. As I attempted to cross one of the channels, the locals suggested I climb on the roof of one of the mills to cross. The roof however did not hold my weight, and so I fell trough it in pure Santa Claus manner landing on a heap of freshly ground flour. . The first thing I did after the accident is to take a photo. Too bad I didn’t get a picture of my guide’s face, it was priceless.

We returned to Kabul next day through another route, just as impressive as the first, except that we crossed over 3 snow-covered mountain passes. We passed through some very friendly Hazara villages, filled with bustling bazaars. As we drove out from these villages, the burned ruins of what had been the original bazaars followed. The Taliban had killed the Hazara population and blown up their bazaars. Now the few survivors are in the process of rebuilding their lives.

We did return to Kabul to visit some further site, like the impressive Museum in Kabul with all the 10 pieces they have to show, after all had been destroyed there is a loving effort to piece the museum back together; across the street was the famous bombed out palace that used to be Osama bin Laden’s residence, now occupied by the Canadian Armed Forces that were nowhere to be seen. In the afternoon I returned to Islamabad by plane and a journey that had taken well over 48 hours by road took 45 minutes exactly. The Kabul airport was probably the most chaotic I had experienced in my entire life with guards and customs inspectors whispering all the time bakshish, bakshish, a term that I refuse to comprehend.

In conclusion Kashmir showed me the best of the human spirit, a place where people maintain their sense of dignity and composure in the face of great adversity and loss. Afghanistan once again showed me that the pettiness of religious and political ideas knows no limits when it comes to eliminating your opponent, no matter how stupid the argument.

Hong Kong appears more jarring than ever. The lights, billions of shiny items for sale
and the dour faces of the people are in sharp contrast to Afghanistan and Pakistan. It seems nobody is really happy here; millions run like ants through the neon tunnels of the various MTR stations.

As I wonder through the busy and loud streets of this capital of conspicuous consumption, I remember going to the tent of a jeep driver in Balakot, who also had lost his house. Inside the tent his wife was making tea and had prepared a silver tray with chocolates and cookies for us, as they knew we were coming. All was served with the beautiful smile, so characteristic of these mountain people, their beautiful daughter served the tea and her 8-year old brother was playing around, as the conversation turned to the family the man informed me that the little one was ill that day and had stayed at home. The he produced a school ID card and showed us the picture of his 10-year old son, who had died in school. All was very quiet and painful smiles went around. As I sit amidst all the hustle and bustle in the flashing lights, I cannot get the image of this dignified family out of my head.

MADAGASCAR - SPRING OF 2005
Photo Gallery of Madagascar & Photo Gallery of Mauritius

Madagascar’s people are amongst the friendliest and kindest you will come across; alone this makes a trip to this country very worthwhile. It certainly feels more like Southeast Asia than Africa. The landscapes tended to remind me a lot of a combination of the Philippines, Indonesia, Australia and the lower parts of Bolivia. I felt safe at all times and did not fear for my belongings. There were no mosquitoes, which made the whole experience so much more enjoyable.

I had arranged my Madagascar tour with Trek Holidays, based in Edmonton, Alberta. The level of service provided by them, certainly surpassed all my expectations.

DAY 1

I flew on Air Madagascar from Paris for 10:30 hours. The Boeing 767 left on time. The plane was clean and the service super friendly and helpful. The food in Economy class was excellent with a choice of main course. Before landing we were offered a breakfast. Throughout the flight we were offered drinks to prevent dehydration and the crew tried to fulfill every wish to make for a better in-flight experience. In-seat entertainment was not provided.

Upon arrival everything turned out to be much more efficient than expected. To obtain a visa, no photos were required and the cost was only 13 Euro, with change given in Euro. Later the immigration took about 3 minutes with very friendly staff. Customs was a breeze, in spite of all the expensive equipment I was carrying.

The changing money at the airport also was efficient, as they hand you wads of stapled money. Please advise your clients that Madagascar is changing its currency: The Malagasy Franc is being phased out and for the new currency, the Airiary. The Airiary is worth 5 Franc, however most people will quote in Franc and it might get confusing at first. For example I was quoted 5,000 for a coffee and was floored as to how expensive it was (about 2 Euro) only to later realize that it actually 1,000 Ariary or 40 cents. The people are however honest, when I tried to hand out the 5,000 Ariary note, they said it was too much and took only 1,000. This happened to me several times until I got over jet lag.

The connection to the domestic flight was good, however you must take your luggage to the Domestic Terminal, a 30 m walk through a corridor that is not well sign-posted. Domestic flights are open seating and mercifully there is no security checkpoint, aside from showing your boarding pass.

Upon arrival the driver from the Dunes Hotel was there, grabbed my suitcase and off went to travel 28 Km for about 75 minutes, due to the road conditions and a number of interesting fishing villages along the way. Here I also met Hajj, my driver. I was told he spoke no English; however his English was proficient enough to have good conversations and share some good laughs. Throughout the trip he was efficient, punctual, helpful and kind in the extreme and I thoroughly enjoyed his company. He made my job very very easy.

The Dunes Hotel is a rather basic establishment, where aside from one employee, nobody spoke English. The staff were very friendly and extremely helpful and the food good. The hotel is located near a tropical beach that is nothing to write home about. From the hotel you can take an excursion to a dry forest that makes the whole visit to Ifaty worthwhile, as the forest consists of an amazing assortment of baobabs and other plants.

DAY 2

Toady we drove back to Toliara, where there is not an awful lot to see in the town. North of Toliara there is the Arboretum d’Antsokay, which has a collection of many of the southern spiny forest plants and also a collection of reticulated turtles and is worth a stop.

The drive to Isalo took about 6 hours from the arboretum, with interesting villages along the way. We also went to the Zombitse National Park and I walked alone through the forest, but did not spot any wildlife. Further on is the town of Ilakaka which is the centre for sapphire mining and looks like any mining town in the Third world, and assortment of shacks, shanties, bordellos and greedy merchants.

From Ilakaka you start to see the famous sandstone of the Isalo Park and soon turn off to the Relais de la Reine Hotel. This is a very classy family run hotel in a fabulous location. The food was very good and the service excellent. The room, however was located about 250 m from the reception, along a very badly lit path, which could be complicated for people with walking difficulties.

DAY 3

From the hotel it was a 15km drive into Ranohira to visit the Isalo National Park. In Ranohira you buy your entry ticket and arrange for the mandatory guide. As the park is rather big, I chose to visit one of the Canyons, as it offered the chance to see wildlife and I did indeed spot various lemurs of three different species. You do scramble over large boulders to get into the canyons and in the process I smashed up part of my equipment. For lunch I returned to the hotel for the toughest piece of chicken I have ever had.

In the late afternoon I went to see a rock formation, called the window ‘fenetre’ of Islao in the west for the sunset, which turned out to be truly spectacular.

DAY 4

It is about a 5 hour drive from Ranohira to Fianarantsoa. En route we had a good stop at a small community reserve before the town of Ambalavao called Anja Reserve. In a short walk we met a troupe of Ring Tailed Lemur in the forest between granite outcrops. We continued to the town of Ambalavao, where there is the paper factory (tourist trap) which produces traditional Malagasy paper inlaid with fresh flowers. Ambalavao is also a centre for wine making and I did not stop at the vineyard for a tasting.

Fianarantsoa is the regional capital for the southern highlands and the older part of town on top of the hill has some interesting old churches set in cobbled streets, aside from a spectacular panoramic view of the city. I stayed at the Soafia Hotel, which served excellent Chinese food and was worth a visit, as it is of Chinese design and of labyrinthine proportions – It takes about 10 minutes to even find your well-appointed room.

DAY 5

Fridays Fianarantsoa features a huge market, where farmers from the surrounding countryside come to offer their products, a fascinating experience indeed, as I once again felt transferred to South East Asia. The drive to Ranomafana takes well over 3 hours along a road filled with an amazing assortment of potholes. Ranomafana is a small village and is famous for its hot water springs and the nearby rain forest reserve. In Ranomafana the guides charge 4 Euros per hour, so it actually becomes an expensive affair, as it is mandatory to take a guide and the have a good little scam going for themselves, as in all the other national parks, the fees are regulated according to the circuit you decide to take.

I had time to organize a visit to the reserve in the evening for a nocturnal viewing of the mouse lemur and the stripped civet. On the nocturnal walk you need to take a flashlight, albeit you still stumble over the steep, muddy and slippery paths in the rain forest. The whole affair of the night walk was actually quite a pathetic experience, as there were at least 5 groups being led to a picnic table, where the civets were fed meat and canned sardines by the guides to the oos and ohs in French, German, Swiss and American. There must have been at least 80 people all vying for a bit of space to see the tiny mouse lemur, who only got frightened by the number of camera flashes and torch lights it had to face to eat his little piece of banana, brought to it by the guides. This was definitely wildlife watching at its worst, as I had the feeling to be in tourist trap.

The Domain Nature Lodge in Ranomafana was rather dirty and had serious problems with the water, in spite of its spectacular location by the torrential river. On the second day the room was not made up at all and the menu in the restaurant left a lot to be desired albeit the staff, as per usual in Madagascar was super friendly and helpful.

DAY 6

I got up at 6:00 AM and took a 6-hour walk in the rain forest with my guide alone and saw quite a few lemur species: the Golden Bamboo Lemur, Greater Bamboo Lemur, Lesser Bamboo Lemur, Red-fronted Brown Lemur Milne-Edwards Sifaka, and a mongoose. Albeit the terrain was very steep and slippery I had a wonderful time in spite of looking like a kid that was playing in the mud.

After returning to the hotel for lunch it started to rain heavily and no further photography was possible. As always in the tropics, rain turns out to be a really depressing affair, as all those magnificent colours turn into grey, dark and damp shades, that actually highlight the poverty around you.

DAY 7

It continued to rain heavily during a drive of some 6 hours to Antsirabe through the grey scenery of rice paddies. At the town of Ambositra 100 kms before Antsirabe we stopped for lunch and visited the showrooms of carved wood, which had some nice things, but in general the artistry reminded me more of the tacky wood products I had seen, but certainly not bought in the Philippines or Central America.

Upon arrival in Antsirabe, the rain abated, so I decided to take the excursion out to Lake Tritriva about an hours drive from Antsirabe. This extinct volcano lake is set in attractive countryside and you tour this beautiful lake surrounded by about a dozen children who are trying to sell you souvenirs; they are relentless in their offering, however they are also really good-natured, have an excellent sense of humour and understand the meaning of the word no. I stayed at the rather basic, but clean Chinese-run Hotel Diamant. Food was quite good.

DAY 8

From Antsirabe the drive to Antananarivo takes just over 3 hours, where I had a quick meeting with Shaun, the local tour operator. Nearby is the Palace at Ambohimanga, a UNESCO World Heritage Site that offers good views of the surrounding countryside, due to its strategic location; the Palace itself is not very spectacular, however offers a bit of insight into the history of the monarchy which once ruled most of Madagascar before the French occupied the country. From here it was another 3 hours east to the rain forest at Andasibe, where I arrived in the late afternoon and arranged a guide for the visit the next morning. I stayed in the cheerful and clean Hotel Feon Ny Ala, that also features very good food.

DAY 9

In the morning we went to see a group of Indri Indri lemurs; they give a haunting communication cry in the early mornings that actually resembles one of those horns you can hear during a football match in Europe or from a factory at closing time, quite impressive for such a little creature to make so much noise, but then again human babies are also quite powerful noise-makers.

Near the National Park is a lodge that has an island with rather tame lemurs. Albeit a bit touristy it gives you the chance to see the lemurs very close, they actually jump on you to get to their bananas and carrots. The lemurs are very gentle and their fur is incredibly soft and you leave with the impression, as to how fragile these creatures really are.

On the road back to Antananarivo we also stopped at reptile farm, where I had the opportunity to see and photograph the amazing variety of chameleons, geckos and frogs of Madagascar. I realize that here the animals where in captivity, however as many of them are very small, it might prove to be the only opportunity to see them all.

This evening I stayed at the lovely Hotel Sakamanga in a beautifully appointed room. The hotel also features an excellent restaurant, that serves excellent food in a charming atmosphere.

DAY 10

Antananarivo does not have a lot of tourist sites but a visit to the high point of town gives great views out over the surrounding rice fields. The city is built on three levels and was crowned by the Royal Palace, which burned down recently.

In the evening I flew on Air Mauritius to Mauritius. The service on board was good.

I also flew on Air Mauritius to London for 12:00 hours. The Airbus 340 left on time. The plane was clean. The food in Economy class was excellent with a choice of main course. Before landing we were offered a breakfast. Air Mauritius features very modern, clean and comfortable planes, comparable to some of the best airlines I have flown on, however the need for better staff training is more than apparent when it comes to improving the customer experience.