12 May--Up the Hill and into History

Days like today are why you go on vacation.  Got up reasonably early and took a taxi up the highest hill in Tana to visit the Rova, the giant royal compound that overlooks the city.  Madagascar had about 20 different kingdoms for most of its history until the European takeover of the Indian Ocean spice trade and their introduction of the slave trade.  The Europeans’ trade currency was weapons, and the Malagasy kingdoms most successful at feeding the slave trade got the most guns and, thus, power.  The kingdoms slowly consolidated, but the Merina of the highlands ultimately unified the entire island, using both force and the favorite tool of the Hapsburgs, marriage.  This would have been about 1800.

And I was headed up to see where the Merina built their palaces.  The biggest is called the “Queen’s Palace” because it dates from the time of Queen Ranavalona II (1867). Before her, Queen Ranavalona I hadn’t been popular.  Her husband had opened Madagascar to the British, starting the balancing act that kept Madagascar independent for so long by playing the British and French off each other, but when he died, Ranavalona I decided to purify the country of its European influences and ultimately executed about 25% of the population, mostly Christian.  She also added to the massive wooden palaces at the top of the Rova.  When she died, Queen Ranavalona II took the throne after a brief succession tussle, and she brought back the Europeans and their religion.  He had a Scots missionary, James Cameron (I kid you not), design a stone façade for the main palace, which became known as the Queen’s Palace.  And it looks like it could be in London.

In fact, the entire Rova looks like it could be in England with its square, blocky buildings and steeply sloped roofs.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t get in the Rova because the wood building inside the façade burned a few years ago and is now undergoing renovation.  But I walked around the exterior among poinsettia trees and angel trumpets enjoying the striking views in all directions.

Just below the Rova is the Prime Minister’s Residence, aka the Andafiavaratra Museum.  This huge, ornate, pink fantasy was designed by another Scots missionary, William Poole, and built in 1872.  As baroque as the building looks, the story of the Prime Minister behind it, Rainivoninahitriniony, is even more complicated.  This man married three different Merina queens (including Ranavalona II) while steering Madagascar though the conflicts of European colony-grabbing.  The Brits ultimately swapped Madagascar to the French for the Sultanate of Zanzibar, and the French soon sent the Prime Minister into exile in Algeria.  That’s when the French colonial period started.  There is such a movie in all this….

The Prime Minister’s palace is a setting Lou would love with its vast, bigger –than-a-high school-gymnasium ballroom that leaps up two stories to a crystal dome.  The plaster walls are coming loose in some places, as is some of the elaborate plaster molding, and the balconies that overlook the ballroom on all sides are shaped by hand-carved railing.  It’s spectacular as is; it must have been even moreso.  It’s pretty clear to me that the Merina had a sense of scale that complimented the awe-inspiring location of civic structures.

The Palace now has a few display rooms of items that were recovered from Rova fire, and I really enjoyed looking at them.  There’s a great portrait of Ranavalona I with a dour, scowling expression, and there are some early muskets that look like it would have taken two people to hold one.  And if the royal clothes are any indication, these weren’t big people. 

I noticed the local jazz station was located in a building on the palace grounds as I headed further down the hill from the Rova.  This was a fine walk along a tiny street packed with kids heading to and from school, small businesses selling everyday things, and little cars going up and down the cobblestone streets.  And there was history everywhere, from the church on the cliff that Ranavalona I had the Christians thrown from to the 1831 Scottish Protestant Church and the art deco villa with bougainvillea around it.  And the kids playing soccer and shouting “bonjour.”  And the great views in every direction over cliffs.  The whole scene reminded me of walking in Darjeeling even though these mountains are not even to the ankles of the Himalaya.  It was a nice, two-mile walk.

I detoured back to the Place de l’Independance for a demi at the open-air bar there, then took a short pre-dinner nap before heading to the Varangue for one of the best dinners I’ve ever had. 

Even though I could’ve walked there in 10 minutes, the general consensus is not to walk around the city at night, so I took a cab.  La Varangue (veranda) is a small hotel that is cozy, neat and upscale, and its Chef Lalaina is one of the best-known in town.  In fact, the restaurant is so popular, that I should have gotten a reservation. It was raining by now, and the restaurant was fully booked, but as I was asking for some help in getting a cab back to the Sakamanaga, the maître d’ took me by the arm to an enclosed table on the veranda overlooking the valley and offered to serve me dinner there if I wanted.  I was thrilled.

And the food was as good as the service.  It looks to me like there is an effort in Tana to integrate traditional Malagasy cuisine with haute française, and this menu had things like pig’s legs, knuckles and even ears along with tongue and tripe.  But that was a special page of the menu.  On the page with things I was going to eat, there offerings like crayfish (which are the size of lobsters here and, no, I’m not making a translation mistake), ravioli and steak.  I had filet of Zebu again with a little glass of South African red.

Fabulous dinner!  It was presented to me on a rectangle of slate, the stuff kids use here at school as chalk boards, but without the frame on it.  The filet had been cut into five sections crosswise, and each section had a clove of garlic inserted into it.  It was cooked in a savory sauce; blackened with cracked pepper; garnished with a sprig of something resembling juniper ; and very lightly sprinkled with a few tiny, tart, purple berries.  

The meat was beautiful and, around it, four other elements of the dinner were arranged in small, white holders.  A square holder had the jus to put on the meat, and another, which resembled a tiny bean pot, had reddish greens stuck into it with all the stems down so it looked like a bouquet.  When I emptied the greens onto the tile beside the meat, I realize they had been sprinkled with vinaigrette which had drained to the bottom of the container and which I could then sprinkle back on the salad.  On the other side of the tile was a little cassoulette of delicious potatoes in a cream sauce topped with a trace of bacon.  And behind that was a small vegetable amuse bouche that was almost like a soup but in a tall, narrow cylinder.  Sigh….no camera.  But the presentation was delightful, as was the meal.  I honestly think the server enjoyed me enjoying the meal as much as I did.  And to be crass, I have to add that this was $12.

With the savory and pepper lingering in my mouth, I opted to skip dessert and got an express instead.  The server showed back up with the coffee on an oversized saucer and a little piece of black chocolate beside it.  And he also brought along a ginger-infused, Malagasy rum which he said would be the perfect complement to the meal.  And it really was, with its sweet and hot taste.  Wow…sometimes, a good meal can make a perfect day.

…and one last thing.  Why I’m going back at least once more: an appetizer that is a rouleaux de foie gras en velour de cacao et croustillants de chocolat au amandes, coulis noir.  I thought that was too much for this meal, but I’ll make a trip back to try it!

Ranavalona I