Okay, it's all in crap order now, but, like, whatever.


I can't overemphasise how fantastic it was to dive. Mozambique was great great fun. The photos from this five days of diving and hedonism are now on my main site (although sadly lacking is any evidence of "Queen of the Sandwich" Mercia's fine efforts with bread, cheese, meat, mayo and pickles). Enjoy!

I would just like to point out that I am eternally grateful to Gary for deciding at the last minute to change the forfeit Bernie & I had to undergo as newly-qualified "fish". If I had had to consume a whole raw egg, shell and all, I'm sure things would have turned out very bad indeed. As it was, I took the 'yard of ale/port/caipirinha dregs' cocktail in my stride, being a hardened European drinking veteran.

Anyway, much as I am loathe to leave behind Mozambique, with its sand dunes, its pristine beaches, its memorable nights round the braai and the panoply of sea creatures I came face to fin with, I feel I should also write about what happened next.

Saying goodbye to Mathias & Veronika at the airport was a poignant moment, but it was made easier to bear by the thought that I would see them again at Christmas in Munich. Funnily enough, we also bumped into Ray & Julie at the airport while we were having our farewell beers. And before I knew it, I was saying goodbye myself, this time to Gary & Mercia, as I headed across the Mozambique Channel to Madagascar.

This was truly a memorable flight: what the Air Madagascar plane lacked in comfort was amply made up for by the breathtaking scenery I could see through the window. Well, not over the sea, right enough. But when we reached the island I was treated to views that put me in mind of the book "Earth from Above" by Yann Arthus-Bertrand, the French photographer. I saw delicate swirls of brown muddy waters where huge rivers met the ocean; I saw rocky atolls for what they really are: mountains that happen to rise from the seabed instead of the land; I saw endless landscapes of wooded valleys and open grassland; and nearer the capital, Antananarivo, I saw how the steady growth of human habitation was turning the highland valleys first into stepped tiers of rice paddy and then into urban sprawl.

And then, when we were landing, we were informed over the tannoy that we mere mortal passengers should allow the visiting Chinese dignitaries from the provincial government of Guangdong to exit the plane first. And then we saw why: the Malagasy government had laid on a full red-carpet reception, replete with military brass band and hand-shaking politicians! It was the best welcome I've had to any country.

Abdullah (alias Geert) met me at the airport, which was a good thing because I needed to know his address to be allowed into the country! We drove in expat 4WD style to his luxurious villa a little nearer the centre of town, where he left me and went back to work. I just had time to jump in the shower before meeting Abdullah's fiancée Jennifer.

Their welcome was full of warmth, like the sunny weather outside and the parquet floors inside, but somehow I felt out of place in Madagascar. Perhaps it was because I was suddenly thousands of miles away from the people I had enjoyed the last month with. My sense of dislocation was eased but at the same time heightened by the company at dinner that evening: the American embassy (where Jennifer was working as a nurse) holds regular dinners for staff and guests, and it so happened that the Wednesday of my arrival was a dinner night

So I put on my best clothes (somewhat crumpled white Chinese style shirt and beige cords - nice!) and went to meet - among others - the Ambassador, a Congressman and a Senator. It was too surreal. I was stuck at one end of a long table making small talk with people with whom I had next to nothing in common. It was like being at a work conference again! But I couldn't knock the food (Madagascar has some fine foie gras) or the price.

Antananarivo is hot and smelly. It reminds me of South East Asian cities I have known, not least because Madagascar was not settled from Africa, which lies only 200 miles to the west, but from Indonesia and thereabouts, some 3000 miles to the east. So the people of this island have Asian features, cultivate rice, and have a cult of the ancestor that is important to this day. Another similarity with Indonesia for me was the appalling traffic. There is one difference though: Madagascar drives French cars almost without exception. I haven't seen so many Renault 4s and Citroen 2CVs since the last time I watched a Pink Panther movie!