Coming to Madagascar has been a bit of a dream for a while. You know when people ask what places are on your travel bucket list, I'd have to say Madagascar was on the top of mine. So you can imagine my excitement as the Nosy Be airport was coming into view. My excitement might also have been delirium, as we'd been traveling for 30 hours by this point!
We disembarked on the tarmac (I love when we get to do this!) and walked into the airport. As Paul and I were sitting close to the front of the plane, and are fairly fast walkers, so we were near the head of the pack. Straight away we were handed two identical and poorly photocopied quarter pieces of paper, that were our unofficial immigration forms. We immediately grabbed our pens and went to work filling them out while loosely standing in line. It soon turned into chaos as more travelers entered this scene. People were being given forms, looking for pens, and seeking clarification. I did wonder why we weren't given the forms to complete on the plane before arriving, but...
When I finished filling out both forms, I looked up to get some guidance on the next step. Right away the official immigration police officer grabbed both forms and handed them both to a short woman. It did seem sketchy, but who was I to question it. I trundled off to the Visa desk, proudly showed my tourist visa I had got back in Canada at the Madagascar Consulate in Ottawa. She gave me a smile and head nod, and pointed to the immigration desk.
I rolled up to the immigration desk, handed over my passport and was greeted with a stern "papers"? I quickly pointed and said, "I gave them over there." But as I pointed, I saw no short woman with papers in hand. Oh dear, this wasn't going well. I ventured back into the fray to find either the short woman or new papers to fill out. As I turned to scan the room for Paul, another Immigration Police Officer was coming my way. I saw Paul standing behind the immigration check desk and I heard him say something like "Go with him. Money."
Although thoroughly confused at this point I did go with him to his immigration desk. He started filling out the poorly photocopied and unofficial immigration form for me. I pointed to the first immigration desk and said "my passport". He retrieved that for me. In the end, my passport was stamped and I moved into the luggage retrieval area.
It was at this point Paul said, "I paid him." When Paul had gone through immigration, the officer had come very close and whispered "tips for us?". Now we know what $20 US will get you in the Madagascar airport. And we're a little more vigilant about being scammed. Lesson learned. Don't give your forms to a short woman! - if it were only that easy.