Every couple of weeks the Bank of Madagascar calls me. I can’t understand a WORD THIS GUY SAYS. I ask him to repeat himself slower…and then again…and then I just wait until he’s done talking, say yes or grunt a few times, and hang up.


When I first came here some idiot told me I needed to create a bank account so that I could easily withdraw local currency. What he DIDN’T tell me is that the bank is closed…well… almost all the time – I haven’t quite figured out their schedule.

AND they charge you for cheques and charge you each time you deposit a cheque.

AND they also have an ATM outside that’s open all the time. And apart from Fridays when they run out of money, you can withdraw money twenty four hours a day (although I wouldn’t recommend in once its dark).


Stinky French lady took me to the bank on my second day of work – and at this point I was still freaked out at just about everything  (wow, how things have changed!) – and figured since I can speak French I didn’t need her help and she took off somewhere. I filled out some forms…which I think I understood… .annddd… now that I’m typing this out, I’m thinking I should head down there pretty quick and get them to close my account..

They took personal information and have a lot of info about me….so it’s possible that I have four credit cards and a mortgage under my name somewhere in Africa… yikes.


I JUST have to find a time when they are actually open… I have a feeling this is going to be some kind of Friends’ episode gone really, really wonky.