The adventure begins...

After Mom and Dad dropped me off at the airport, the first hurdle of the metropolis (or airport) was finding a parking space. That was done, Dad reappeared, and I could start an uncomplicated flight journey. After checking in my luggage, I had one final salad and then the great journey began. Security check - check, passport control - check, hike to the gate - check, and bam: already on the plane and on the way to distant Ethiopia. On the way to the plane, I chatted with a colleague who revealed himself as a tropical ecology member by checking in incredible amounts of luggage, securing a conversation topic. It turned out that he is practically a neighbor of iDiv in Leipzig and works at the Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology and is on his way to Gabon. On the plane, I flew to Ethiopia in a relaxed manner with an empty seat next to me. Arrived there at 6 o'clock and after a short security check and a break at the gate, I flew on at 9 o'clock, now with a 1-hour time difference. In the midst of a Norwegian family, it didn't get boring and after exciting documentaries about Ethiopia and a few naps, it was time for the popular confusing immigration forms. Various information about travel plans and local mobile phone numbers, Covid-19 vaccinations, and flight numbers are asked for. Well, writing something is usually a good thing, in case of doubt, just the German mobile phone number. A few confusing minutes later, the moment has come and a brown and mountainous country comes into sight. One last nap later...bam - and touchdown: landed...not necessarily elegant, but successful. In the middle of beautiful rice fields and a lake landscape in Antananarivo!

Arriving at the cozy airport, the first thing is passport control. Since I sat far at the front, I was optimistic that I would get through quickly - after all, I have a visa, I thought... Well, but can you stand in line with almost exclusively locals with a visa? 'C'est seulement pour les passportes malagaches'. Yeah, okay, then I'll just let everyone go ahead and line up at the 'visa' counter. But I do have a visa, don't I? Well, then I'll just join the line of locals and those who want to become locals. Stupidly enough, by now the entire contents of the plane are standing there. Well, now it's time to line up behind everyone else. 'Moro moro', I thought to myself, always stay calm. Then finally: ta-daa, no problem and my visa was waved through. Although not before I was asked some uncertain questions (residence in Madagascar?), but apparently no answer is also an answer. Quickly locked myself in the bathroom and collected the correct banknotes to be exchanged from various secret hiding places. Then I am ready to face the possible option that parts of my luggage have gone astray somewhere between Frankfurt and Africa...but no! Everything arrived perfectly. Lucky. It's almost creepy how everything works out so perfectly.

Next step: Arrival - exciting: 'Is someone really going to pick me up at the other end of the world?' Once through customs, which was only for locals somehow, 50 people are already standing there, agitated, shouting, with signs, waving or silent in front of me. Keeping in mind warnings about a high rate of fraud and crime at airports, I hide all valuable things and keep them in sight. Now the art: Trying not to appear helpless, but confident, not too interested and definitely not looking for something, I let my eyes wander over the signs. Don't look at anyone for too long, otherwise the personal shuttle is practically already booked. No one in a hurry at first - holding up my name - seen. But for now, I also want to get out of the primary target line. No, no chance: hardly do I take another step forward, and 3 locals are in front of me, one directly taking over the luggage cart, the other two asking me something. According to me, it went something like this: 'Which hotel?' - 'We will drive you' - then something about A l'Hotel - then MICET (my organization) and then: 'Franka'? ... Ummm: Yes?! And bam - they have already brought me to David, who is smiling kindly and holding a sign that says 'Franka Meyer'. Well, impressive. They managed all of this within 12 seconds, without me saying anything that would have made me recognizable. They just have it in their blood... I was still slightly confused, however, that the man who hijacked my luggage cart was already halfway out. David, the MICET guy, looked trustworthy. I quickly told him that 1. I still want to exchange money and 2. I need a SIM card. He could hold my luggage back from quick transport outside and nice David and the luggage driver stood next to the counters, so I could keep an eye on my luggage. Maybe like a lioness with her cubs... They encourage me with a smile and I turn calmly to the science of exchanging money. I hand my meager 250 euros through a glass pane. A number is displayed on the calculator that I couldn't identify quickly enough and bam - I already have a stack of paper bills in my hand, 10 cm high, each with a 10,000 printed on it. Okay, then one stop to the right with 500 grams of paper for the SIM card. Just hand over the passport once, then choose a tariff, hand over some sums of money, and say 'Portable, s'il vous plait'. Well, they just take the phone right away, type on the German keyboard a few times as if there was something written in French, insert the SIM card, press buttons for another 5 minutes, and tadaa: The new SIM card is already working! Thousand thanks and au revoir. I stow my banknotes in my backpack, nod to David, and bam: my luggage is practically already at the car on the other side of the parking lot. Well, David seems calm, and I think that the man won't kidnap my luggage now. Of course, he didn't. He has kindly already put everything in the car and is grinning at me. Oh yeah...tip. Very clumsily, I put down my backpack again, rummage through my stacks of money, and give him a few thousand ariary. He seems satisfied and waves goodbye. We drive off towards the mega metropolis. It turns out that David is the biggest fan of Germany and learned a lot of German in school. He tells me many things and explains where we are driving and we chat while I admire the colorful streets, the chaotic traffic, rice fields, and colorful fruit stands. He takes me to the A l'Hotel and we arrange to meet at 6:00 a.m. the next day. I check in, enjoy a papaya juice, and go to my room - close the door, take a deep breath. Silence. Arrived. Easier than expected. Well, but I still want to experience something. Quickly changed, exchanged hiking shoes for flip-flops, changed my top. Safely stashed away some money, put on a jacket, and off I go to the streets of Antananarivo. The loudest, most colorful, and busiest place I have ever seen. People, children, cars, scooters, dogs, chickens, fruits, stalls, and much more everywhere. And curious faces that look at me, smile at me or look skeptical. Walking purposefully and smiling friendly and saying hello is a great strategy, also for politely declining potential taxi drivers. Actually not difficult at all. I walk through the streets, make an effort to maintain my orientation, and let all the impressions sink in.