ADVENTURE THE EIGHTH CONTINENT
‘Don’t ever think about coming back to Madagascar again, you are not welcome!’ proclaimed the angry deputy Port Captain as he reluctantly stamped my paperwork. He had tried to charge me an extra 90,000 ariary (about £18.50), on top of the standard fee for a 60-day cruising permit and even though it was a relatively small amount of money, I had refused. With his boss away, the young, opportunistic junior was clearly trying his luck and I hadn’t fallen for it. His final attempt to justify the ‘gift’ by thrusting some unrelated handwritten terms and conditions in front of me, dated from 1998, was comical. I was well aware that corruption was alive and well on the island and had already been left with no option but to pay a bribe to the police and immigration – apparently my passport had to be taken by an officer in a taxi to the airport to be stamped. A few hours later, with the formalities finally complete, I walked back along the bustling streets of Andoany (commonly known as Hell-Ville), the charming town with its crumbling colonial architecture, and wondered why I often attract so much drama while checking into a new country!
It was, had been thrown around relentlessly by the combination of steep swells rolling up from the south and the 25 to 30-knot reinforced tradewinds. It was a big relief to finally reach calm waters and the peaceful anchorage at Sakatia on the island of Nosy Be.
