My 1st day off in Tamatave

 

Well it’s a long post….but I’ve had a long couple of days.

 

I’ll start off with my Saturday night. It was pretty tame. I don’t know many people and I was pretty burnt out from the weekend, so I watched some TV and then went to bed pretty early. But, not before I discovered that a corner in my washroom had been taken over by ants. Luckily – I remembered some info that I learned while watching a documentary on ants last year – they will not cross a line drawn in front of them. In the documentary – chalk was used to show that they won’t cross it – but… I didn’t have any chalk. I got out my bottle of body wash and drizzled a line on the tile. It worked! The ants started FREAKING and would not cross the line. I wasn’t TOO terribly worried about them to begin with – but it was nice to know that they wouldn’t leave the washroom.

I also discovered a whole bunch of the ants in my hairbrush…..AFTER I had brushed my hair. So… here’s the shocker… I didn’t freak out. I got out my comb – combed out the bodies, and then rinsed my hair again. I am pleasantly confused and surprised by my lack of reaction. It just seemed like a normal every day activity… (lets hope its not). And so far, no ants crawling out of my head – so I think whatever I did worked.

 

 

On Sunday, my weekend driver, Damien, picked us up at 10a.m. with plans to go to the market.  He first took us to the smaller, more touristy market. Most vendors go to church or take the day off Sundays, so it was pretty quiet. Damien dropped us off and waited for us. I guess I got ripped off on some souvenir items, but when you’re talking about the equivalent of $0.50 or $0.25 CDN… it’s not that big of a deal to me… maybe that will change with time and I’ll start to understand the concept of bartering for that little.

 

Damien the Driver then took us to the 2^nd market. He said that he shouldn’t leave us alone so he followed us the whole time. It feels so weird to have someone following you and not being a part of your group and he insisted that he carry all of our purchases. He came in pretty handy also because a lot of the vendors don’t speak English or French – and I only know how to say “goodbye” in Malagasy.

The smells in the market are….well…revolting. The sanitary conditions are non-existent. Meat is kept hanging on hooks in the sun with the vendors swinging a mop-type thing to keep the flies down. I know I have a sensitive nose to some smells but there were a few times that I could have probably hurled and my feet were black by the time I got home. But, it was so incredibly cool. I’m glad I wore sunglasses because I think my eyes were popping out of my head the entire time. The thing is – I will never be able to describe how….odd it is here. Even pictures won’t make it make sense.

I am so excited to find out that I get to have Damien every Saturday and Sunday! We have agreed that I will try to teach him more English, and he will try to teach me Malagasy. He is…maybe in his late 40s, has 3 children ranging in age from 21 to 17, who are all away in university or school.

 

At the markets, there were no little kids begging. They had these super cute little ones just saying hello  us, trying to speak French. There were no beggar children at the market, which was nice (not enough tourists hang out there, I would guess). The kids were children of the vendors, all extremely friendly, some trying to speak French. There are teeny tiny little kids that have learned to sit on the cross bar of a bicycle and I really want to get a picture of one. I wanted to take a picture of just about everything, but we already call so much attention to ourselves, that I think I will have to wait.

 

After the market we went for lunch in camp and I went on a discovery walk. For some retarded reason I thought that I could bush-wack-it for a bit and find some cool or neat places… what I found is that the camp is surrounded by guards every 200m and barbed wire fence. I guess it’s good to keep us safe…but it does make me feel a bit like I’m caged in. I’m sure once I learn more about the place, I’ll be able to go and walk around, but right now, I really don’t know what is safe or not safe, so I stay in the camp unless I’m with a driver.

 

Speaking of drivers…I’m kind of in a mini battle about getting a driver. I was told (key word – told and do not have written correspondence) that I would have my own driver. Now, I’m fine with sharing a driver, but it seems like that is causing some battles between IT and Finance. I don’t care who I share with or what or how the hell I get to work – all I want is something somewhat predictable and know that I can go to the grocery store or bank or whatever if I need. Independence something that I have really taken for granted and it feels like its been taken away from me here big time. I’m sure I’ll adapt and get used to it – or learn how to plan far in advance, but this project is so incredibly disorganized that it can be a bit discouraging at times. The “good” thing is that all the expats feel the same way – so at least we have something to bitch together. My boss wants me to take the shuttle that the project has set up. Its extremely confusing and sort of like taking a safer version of public transport. I am a bit hesitant about that. Some people have told me that I should push for my own driver – but there is a bit of a crisis with drivers here because a bunch of the project’s vehicles have been stolen.

 

 I still don’t know what I’m doing today or how I’m getting home. My boss has promised me that he would take care of it – but everything here regarding transportation of expats is really retarded and gets everyone extremely heated very fast. I want to be accommodating, but I also don’t want to get taken advantage of. I work right on the beach, so I’m totally fine with bringing a lunch to work and eating on the beach or whatever. But my first few weeks? Yes – I would like a *little* handholding. I’m a bit disappointed by the lack of welcome my boss, but on the plus side the rotational expats have made up for it.

 

Okay – enough of the driver battle. Last night I was welcomed into the expat world with my first time at the camp bar.  A Fort Saskatchewanian arrived at the camp, we ate supper together, and then he suggested some red wine for dessert, and the next thing I know, I’m sitting outside on the patio bar at the camp - drunk with 3 Canadians, 1 American and an Australian. They were all SO NICE and offered to take me out and show me the town ( I asked for the prostitute free tour and I think they would tame it down for me a bit).  I had a discussion with the Aussie and he said, don’t worry – we know that you are in a foreign country and we will make sure that you are safe (he has 4 daughters – 1 my age so that makes him a bit more credible…) These guys are CRAZY partiers – so I’m not going to go out with them all the time (my liver already hates me for the anti-malaria drugs) but it will be nice to start to go out to town in the evenings and start to explore a bit while some expats until I’m more comfortable. I would say that most of the expats are seasoned veterans and have worked all over the world. Most of them know that I’ve never left North America and that I am a total and complete hick. The Fort Saskatchewanier said – you will gain friends here but also a new family….it was nice to hear that.

 

At one point in the night, I felt like I could have been sitting around a table in Edmonton watching my Canadian friends making asses of themselves and joke around.  It was extremely comforting. They got to see part of the real Nicole – not the Accountant Nicole. I do kind of miss people my own age but last night these guys made a pretty good substitute.  I laughed really, really hard, which was really, really needed. I haven’t had a horrible day here (yet) but I do think that I don’t laugh enough (its hard to when I don’t understand the local language and the locals don’t understand me). So all in all a really good night – but I probably should have gone home to bed instead of calling people. Hopefully I didn’t say anything TOO embarrassing.

 

Oh one last thing - I’m not sure if it’s the anti-malaria drugs but I have crazy dreams. Saturday night I dreamed I was dating Hulk Hogan circa 20 years ago. I should start writing them down because every night I have something crazy happen in my dreams.