Comoros Is.

Some people seem to think that the life of a traveller is one of blissful happiness and unfettered by the troubles of life.

Whilst this can be the case for periods of time, it is not always so. The two days it took me to get from Zanzibar to Madagascar via Comoros Is. was to remind me of this, and test my abilities of talking / figuring my way out of a mess only partially of my creation, a small part.

The first bump, so to speak, came in the form on an unconventional landing in Dar es Salaam, the first touch down was hard, REALLY hard, and we bounced back up with a substantial hop. Hard to guess but I would estimate we came up at least 10 metres, and travelled at least a couple of hundred metres before the next touch. At this point we were back under full power and the second touch was another bounce, gentler this time, and we were taking ourselves back to the skies for a go around. In a couple of hundred flights in my life this was a first for me.

The lady next to me was suddenly a bit nervous, so I talked to her to keep her calm. My reasoning was that whatever had gone awry on the first landing attempt, the pilot had made the decision to abort the landing, and with only a second gentle touch was back in control and taking us up. Anyone who can recover from an 'oh shit' moment that quickly probably knows their stuff. If on the other hand we had skittered and wobbled along the runway before lumbering back into the sky, I too may not have been so casual about it.

It turned out, news courtesy of my new friend, that there was a large group traveling together, possibly over a third of the people on that flight, and a good number of them were commercial pilots. There was a bit of banter between a few of these guys, I think discussing who should take the stick for the next turn.

The second landing was quite smooth, and was applauded by all aboard. And the pilot came on to the PA to apologise for the first attempt with a claim that there was an obstruction on the runway. I suspect this is just a standard line for such circumstances, particularly when one of the passenger pilots called out "yeah, did you see that elephant?". 

After a short layover I was on my way to Comoros Is. And upon my arrival was my first real drama of the trip.

Here the issue wasn't to do with not having a flight out of the country, but rather not having accommodation booked for the night. I generally don't book in advance, unless arriving at night time, rather I prefer to have a look for myself and confirm the room quality / negotiate the price. Never had this been an issue at immigration before, but here I couldn't enter the country unless they knew where I was going to stay.

There was a local guy from a hotel holding up a placard a few metres away, waiting to collect a passenger, and so he was drafted into taking care of me as well, I now had an address for the visa application. This then cost me a hefty fee for one day, it would have cost 30€, if I'd had any euro, but an inequivalent fee was $50US.

As I left the airport I was quickly realising that all was not as it seemed with my driver, for he had given away his placard to a compatriot next to him, did not have another passenger, and was taking me to an obviously private vehicle as it was a fairly beat up old hatch back. With my alert levels rising, they spiked my defenses further when after a 20 minute drive with a wanna-be rally driver, we pulled into a hotel that was not the one listed on my entry form.

I was tempted to walk off at this stage and find my own accommodation, however at this stage I did not have any local currency to pay the driver. My initial expectation was, that on arrival at the hotel that I had assumed he worked for, that the airport transfer fee could simply be added to my bill. The second difficulty with going my own way was that I had by this stage come to the realisation that I had almost zero common language with which to negotiate, nor was I in a 'hotel area' there was no sign outside of a possible plan B. My french language ability consists of yes, no, please, thank you, hello, goodbye, and I can count to 10. Useful words, yes, helpful in my current predicament, not even slightly.

So I went to have a look at the room, and for 35€ it was a bit more than my usual travel digs, but was nice and clean, had a large bed, plenty of space and hot water, and it was only for one night.

Now to sort out the driver, I had no local currency, nor the preferred euro, and the US dollars I had were considered with scorn and rejected. The driver, thinking he had me cornered, and that being a solo traveller would be an easy mark, set his price at 50€, half again the price of the room.

" No chance, I'm not paying that I said, I offered $20US, which was derided as a useless currency with a bad exchange rate. He had come down to 30€ which I had still not agreed to, when he claimed he needed to return to the airport. On his return he would collect me, take me to the atm to get local currency with which I could pay him.

Not long after he left and I was out the door, finding a pharmacist, I managed with a little difficulty to explain my need and soon had directions and a sketch map. I also had the answer I needed, how much a taxi should have cost me.

I found the banks, got some money, and confirmed with the security guard again how much I should have paid.

As I was walking back to my hotel the driver pulled up next to me. At this stage his view of me being a helpless tourist must have been crumbling. I offered him 5000 comoros francs (about $14), and said I'd been told this was the appropriate fee. He tried to argue, so I reached through his window, tucked the money into his shirt breast pocket, said "that's it, it's all you are getting" and walked off. Much to my surprise, he must have came to the realisation that it was as good as he was going to get, and didn't pursue the matter further. It was less than I'd previously offered, but I had no regard for someone so blatantly trying to rip me off.

As I was walking around I'd started to notice the condition of the cars was directly related to the standard of driving. Over the day and a bit I was there I did not see a single car without a dent or scrape, most had many. Their impatient manner of driving and pushing ahead in the queue would have make a veteran of Bankok traffic impressed. Except that the roads were also rubbish, and the driver manner just brought traffic repeatedly to a standstill. At one point I saw a stalled taxi blocking half the cars on the road, and just as I got alongside the passenger jumped out to push start the car, up a slight hill, so I jumped into the road to lend a shoulder and the taxi was soon rumbling again, and coughing and belching smoke, but now moving uphill under its own power. I didn't need to understand french to understand the passengers comment of appreciation and smile as he hopped back in the taxi before it left without him. The universe may have been playing funny buggers with me, but that's no reason not to help a fellow in need.

On my return to my hotel I was slightly startled to notice it was not fully built. At ground level it was finished, and on the inside up to the third floor where my room was located, was also completed, so I hadn't previously noticed, it was however lacking in a proper roof, and for that matter windows on much of the rest of the third floor. The photo below shows both the unfinished hotel and a typical view of the traffic, cars everywhere and nobody able to move.

I'd found myself a nice local cafe for dinner, and returned the next morning for breakfast. I tried to go for a stroll along the waterfront located only a block away at the bottom of the hill, but it wasn't much of a view, and if Comoros had an area suited to tourists to wander around, this wasn't it. I was walking past houses and businesses and came across a wrecking yard. After my description of the cars on the road, you can imagine the state of the ones that were no longer mobile. I doubt I have ever seen a sorrier collection of immobilised steel and rubber.

After an early lunch I returned to my hotel to find the compatriot of the previous days driver (the one he gave his placard to at the airport) waiting to take me back to the airport. I had, before I'd picked up on how dodgy the situation was, explained when I was flying out again. He was however an hour early, and I refused his services, planning to support a local taxi driver.

About half an hour later, since I was all packed and ready, and not sure entirely how long it would take a taxi to get to the airport with the traffic snarls below, I figured I'd set off. The hotel guy came outside with me to help explain where I was going, since I couldn't speak french, and the taxi guys were bound to have almost zero english. The first taxi flagged down however was full, the only available space being in the back of the station wagon, suitable for the bag perhaps, but there was no way I was squeezing my size into the back seat with the three guys already there.

First I should explain how a Comoron taxi works, the basic fee is 500 francs (~ $1.50), no matter where you are going, but that doesn't give you control over the taxi as it would in most other places, the driver will pick up and drop off people along the way and each would pay a cheap fare. It was a very cheap option, but not necessarily direct, and certainly not quick.

The next taxi that stopped was empty, and after a quick chat, my hotel guy indicated that I could hire the taxi and he would take me directly to the airport for 4000 francs. I had plenty of francs, it was cheaper than what I'd paid the day before, and I didn't trust that the constant stopping and having as many people as possible squeezed in with me would be either a pleasant journey, and maybe not in time for my flight. Along the way the driver wanted to stop to buy smokes, but I told him I would prefer he didn't smoke with me in the car, so we returned to dodging potholes.

At one point on the way to the airport there was a long straight section of road, and all the cars were weaving left and right to avoid potholes. It looked just like race cars trying to get heat into their tyres on a warm up lap.

Comoros Is. is volcanic, and there was evidence of relatively recent (within say 10-15 years) lava flow. 

Wikipedia confirms this for me ... Karthala is currently one of the most active volcanoes in the world, with a minor eruption in May 2006, and prior eruptions as recently as April 2005 and 1991. In the 2005 eruption, which lasted from 17 to 19 April, 40,000 citizens were evacuated, and the crater lake in the volcano's caldera was destroyed.

There was a mining operation on a stretch of lava flow, I wasn't aware of lava being mineral rich so I asked what they were mining, however neither my french nor his english were capable of the translation, so I never got the answer. I think they just used it as a source of rock for road works, and possibly building. Wikipedia couldn't help me here, but did inform me that Comoros is the world's largest producer of Ylang-Ylang (approx 30% of this island nation's annual export).

I arrived at the airport, expecting to be very early, to find that my 17:05 direct flight with Air Madagascar to Antananarivo was no longer direct, but with an extra stop along the way and was departing at 15:15, almost 2 hours early.

Lucky then, that I prefer to get to airports earlier than necessary, as it was already 14:40, and that they were as I was soon to discover an airline reliable only for being slow and unreliable, they were still checking in passengers.

It was only after I received a printout of my itinerary and boarding passes at the check in desk that I understood this situation, and with only of the name of the airport listed, I had no idea where the stopover was.

Whilst waiting for my flight I spotted this ingenious home made rough terrain capable wheelchair, and found it amusing enough for a photo.

It was therefore somewhat disconcerting when I got off the plane to not actually know which country I was in. As I was flying from one island to another, the options were limited, and a flag over the roof of the airport confirmed that I had indeed arrived somewhere ....

....  in Madagascar