On Monday afternoon after the tournament, we took a seven-hour trip in a hired car across the mountains to Toamasina, which the French call Tamatave. We passed regions devoted to the production, respectively, of red bricks, bananas, pineapple, coconut, ginger, and sugar cane. For a selection of Martha Lewis' photos of the trip.
Toamasina is the country's biggest port: fully 70% of Madagascar's foreign trade moves through it. The place is full of grand but crumbling houses, surprising modernist, art deco government buildings (also crumbling), spice warehouses, a pleasant and bountiful covered market, very few Europeans, and lots of truckers, sailors, and prostitutes. It rains at least twice every day, but the sun usually follows the downpours. As soon as we dropped our bags off at the hotel, I went off to pay my respects to the president of the regional Pétanque ligue, Georges, a lawyer who also owns the hotel and cabaret, Le Jupiter. Pétanque is played in the Jupiter's parking lot. I played one evening there, under the lights and in a misty rain, against weak competition.
The next day, I found my dream court, in a square called the Place de la Bien-Aimée, named after a much-loved French nurse. (There is still a philanthropic women's clinic on one of the corners.) The Place is bordered by once-magnificient mansions, the most amazing of which is empty, though its terraces provide itinerant truckers with light snacks and gambling tables. The site was once the city's showcase park, the pride of French shipping merchants who made their fortunes through the port, located just a short walk away. Defining the park's boundaries are ten banyan trees, gifts from India a century ago. The trees, now more than 100 feet in height, are elaborately intertwined with one another. The effect is of an immense, natural domed arena — today the municipal Pétanque courts.
On the second afternoon in the city, we stumbled upon the Place de la Bien-Aimée, and ended up watching some great Pétanque played by a group of teenagers. The shooter in the hat, Pina, missed only one ball in nearly three games of Doubles. Here, as in pick-up basketball in the U.S., winners stay in, and losers are out (there are never enough boules to go around in Madagascar). The next day I joined them, playing in the middle with Pina and his preferred pointer. We played four hours each day, against other kids, a couple of very skilled men, some truckers, and others who showed up to watch and take their turn. The level of play was far higher than at the Jupiter.
For a selection of Martha Lewis' photos of the Place de la Bien-Aimée and of Toamasina. The photos, though striking, do not capture the full magic of this place.
On the fifth day in Toamasina, we took a plane to the Isle Sainte Marie. In a few days from now, I will return to Tana for a weekend of boules at the CGT, and then back to New York, via Paris.
