I always take reading material with me when I depart for Africa but I also like to buy books there written by local authors about local subjects or novels that take place in Africa. On one trip I was going to Kruger National Park for a few days then over to Madagascar for two weeks. I took only one book with me that was getting rave reviews in the States. Many were saying you just couldn’t put that book down but I did just that. After almost a week of trying unsuccessfully to get into that book, I put it down next to the bed at my last accommodation in Kruger refusing to pick it back up to read another word. My plan then was to buy some books at the airport in Antananarivo, Madagascar upon arrival there sure I would find a selection of local reads.
From Kruger, I drove to the Nelspruit Airport where I bought a newspaper for the short flight to the Johannesburg airport. During that short layover I bought two local magazines to read during my flight over to Madagascar anticipating the book I was going to buy at the airport in Antananarivo but much to my dismay there was no magazine or book store or anything of the sort in that airport.
I was picked up and transported to my hotel which was in center city. Madagascar, unlike most of the African countries I have traveled to, is not an English speaking country and there was a language barrier for sure while I was asking the guy at the front desk if there were any book stores near but I soon learned that all stores were closed already at that hour but he said the hotel had a “reading room”. I went to this “reading room” and found a shelf next to the bar with some materials but everything was in other languages. I scanned photos of a few picture books but was left starving for words.
Very early the next day I was transferred to another part of the country for my first week. It was a holiday and nothing was open so once again I had no luck finding a book store. Where we went was so remote that again – no store – no book! After a week, I was transported back to the same hotel in center city Antananarivo. I found a person working there who spoke some English and explained successfully that I was in need (now it was a need, not a desire as I was starving for words) of a book. She gave me walking directions to the nearest book store. As I always do, I took one of the hotels business cards and put it in my pocket then set off on foot with confidence and glee to find this store. It was noon and there were a ton of people everywhere. I took a left and walked for the directed three blocks then a right and before I knew it I was completely lost. The streets and buildings all looked alike. Several roads would come together at an intersection and turn off in odd directions. The names on the road signs were not of the streets mentioned in my directions. I was being bumped and banged by the hurriedly passing people as I stood trying to get my bearings.
My heart began to pound. I began to feel very anxious. The city began closing in on me. I noticed no other females alone, no other white people, no other tourists; just locals scrambling like ants in a disturbed ant bed. Instead of going into a panic I walked up to a store window and looked in as if I were interested in what was shown in the window. As I stared at nothing, I gathered my wits and began to regain my composure. It suddenly dawned on me I had the hotels card in my pocket. I also knew most taxis were yellow 1950’s Citroen cars. I decided to walk until I saw one of those, wave him down, and give him the hotels’ card for the driver to take me there. It’s exactly what I did. I could not have been more relieved to see my hotel. I paid the taxi driver and tipped him well for what seemed like a lifesaving ride then walked into the hotel. The girl that gave me the directions asked if I found the book store. I said no but thank you anyway and went to my hotel room via the bar where I grabbed two local beers.
I sat on the bed in my room reprimanding myself - as I guzzled the first beer - for getting lost and for almost panicking, then praised myself for grabbing the hotel business card, which ultimately set things right. The next day I was picked up and transported again to a remote part of the island where there was no opportunity to find reading material. I have never looked at more free handouts and leaflets. I read – or looked at, if it was in another language – sale papers, hotel menus, absolutely anything for my final week. I read that newspaper and those two magazines from the first two flights over and over again; every word, every advertisement, every article; many two and three times.
I never leave the States now without several books. I buy more books in the Johannesburg airport or wherever my first stop is and whenever I pass a store never leaving it to chance that I will find something where I am ultimately going. I also still always pick up a hotel business card when I am leaving a hotel even in the States; you just never know when it will come in handy or even – seemingly – save your life.
From Kruger, I drove to the Nelspruit Airport where I bought a newspaper for the short flight to the Johannesburg airport. During that short layover I bought two local magazines to read during my flight over to Madagascar anticipating the book I was going to buy at the airport in Antananarivo but much to my dismay there was no magazine or book store or anything of the sort in that airport.
I was picked up and transported to my hotel which was in center city. Madagascar, unlike most of the African countries I have traveled to, is not an English speaking country and there was a language barrier for sure while I was asking the guy at the front desk if there were any book stores near but I soon learned that all stores were closed already at that hour but he said the hotel had a “reading room”. I went to this “reading room” and found a shelf next to the bar with some materials but everything was in other languages. I scanned photos of a few picture books but was left starving for words.
 |
| My Hotel |
My heart began to pound. I began to feel very anxious. The city began closing in on me. I noticed no other females alone, no other white people, no other tourists; just locals scrambling like ants in a disturbed ant bed. Instead of going into a panic I walked up to a store window and looked in as if I were interested in what was shown in the window. As I stared at nothing, I gathered my wits and began to regain my composure. It suddenly dawned on me I had the hotels card in my pocket. I also knew most taxis were yellow 1950’s Citroen cars. I decided to walk until I saw one of those, wave him down, and give him the hotels’ card for the driver to take me there. It’s exactly what I did. I could not have been more relieved to see my hotel. I paid the taxi driver and tipped him well for what seemed like a lifesaving ride then walked into the hotel. The girl that gave me the directions asked if I found the book store. I said no but thank you anyway and went to my hotel room via the bar where I grabbed two local beers.
I sat on the bed in my room reprimanding myself - as I guzzled the first beer - for getting lost and for almost panicking, then praised myself for grabbing the hotel business card, which ultimately set things right. The next day I was picked up and transported again to a remote part of the island where there was no opportunity to find reading material. I have never looked at more free handouts and leaflets. I read – or looked at, if it was in another language – sale papers, hotel menus, absolutely anything for my final week. I read that newspaper and those two magazines from the first two flights over and over again; every word, every advertisement, every article; many two and three times.
I never leave the States now without several books. I buy more books in the Johannesburg airport or wherever my first stop is and whenever I pass a store never leaving it to chance that I will find something where I am ultimately going. I also still always pick up a hotel business card when I am leaving a hotel even in the States; you just never know when it will come in handy or even – seemingly – save your life.
No comments:
Post a Comment