From Ankarana, I went by road to Ankify, to take the boat to the Island of Nosy Be. It was a most beautiful drive, along valleys and fields of red-brown earth, cocoa, cashew and ylang-ylang trees, vendors on the side of the road, where I bought some tasty cashew nuts. But it was also a grim taste of Malagasy roads: stretches of good road and stretches of appalling potholes, with young people and kids shoveling gravel into the holes and waiting for some money from the drivers. Also, in every village, people hammering stones to make gravel, that will be eventually bought by some factories. Near Ambilobe, a bridge had collapsed under a heavy truck a month ago, and they diverted the road so we passed the river over pebbles – the passengers of the taxi-brousses had to step out and cross on foot, with water to their ankles, so the vehicle would be lighter – but what about when the rains come in a few weeks? And this is the main road in the North of the country… And Patrick kept saying: “Les Malgaches, ça n’existe pas!”, as he did when, in Diego Suárez, he had shown me a hospital built with Chinese money a few years before (one of several in the country) that stood completely empty, with not even basic furniture.
At Ankify, I took a speed boat to Nosy Be, where I spent two days in lazy idleness at the beach, swimming, reading and eating. The beach is beautiful, the sea water warm. The touristy village of Abitaloaka, near my hotel, featured a lot of old European guys with young Malagasy girls, which was a little disheartening. I’m sure the snorkeling and diving at Nosy Be must be wonderful, but I just idled on the beach and read, resting from the hikes of previous days.
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