Antananarivo, Madagascar

I could feel the difference as I arrived in Antananarivo. The change of pace hit me immediately; gone was the peacefulness of the rainforest. In its place was what felt like a full-blown cacophony: honking horns, shouts from market vendors, the buzz of scooters weaving through traffic, and layers upon layers of buildings crammed into every available space. 

Still, I was curious. This was once the seat of a kingdom, after all. Antananarivo, often called Tana for short, was founded in 1625 by King Andrianjaka as the capital of the Merina Kingdom. Building the royal compound on the highest hill, he named it “Antananarivo”, meaning “City of the Thousand”, a nod to the thousand soldiers used to guard it. It remained the centre of Malagasy power for over 400 years. 

I figured the best way to explore this sprawling city was by bicycle. Something nimble enough to slip through the narrow streets and up the hills without getting stuck in traffic jams. Riding through Antananarivo was a sensory overload. From one block to the next, the city changed from tin-roofed shacks to stately colonial homes, which sat next to apartment blocks, which sat next to small shops crammed with everything from dried fish to mobile phones. It felt like the entire country was somehow squeezed into this one place. 

What I didn’t account for was how steep some of the streets were. I’m talking thigh-burning, breath-stealing, push-the-bike kind of hills. There were times I had to hop off and walk, pretending I’d intentionally “chosen” that so I could enjoy the view, even though I was absolutely wheezing.

Riding up (or more like walking up) to the old town, I took in the brick buildings and cobbled lanes climbing the ridges. From some of the higher lookouts, I could pause and take in the tangle of rooftops stretching across the valley. In the distance, the heart-shaped Lake Anosy, wrapped around by jacaranda trees, stood like a tranquil sentinel amidst the chaos.

On the next hill, I braved the climb and got back on the bike, arriving at the Queen’s Palace – sweat-soaked, red-faced and utterly winded. Given the size of the complex, I decided to leave that for another time (see Local Spot). Instead, I wandered over to Andafiavaratra Palace. Painted a deep red with white trim, the building had a stately, almost severe look. It was once the residence of Prime Minister Rainilaiarivony, who governed the island for 31 years by marrying three queens in succession.  

Riding downhill, albeit easier on the knees and quads, was no less wild, the brakes squealing all the way to Analakely Market. I felt like I swept into a tide with vendors calling out, fruit piled up high, clothes fluttering, and grilled snacks wafting through the air. I barely had room to steer. One wrong swerve, and I’d end up in a tangled mess of goods.

A bit further out, I took a taxi up to the Royal Hill of Ambohimanga, a UNESCO site and the birthplace of Madagascar’s monarchy. The 15th-century compound served as the royal residence and burial grounds for Merina rulers in the pre-colonial era. By the 19th century, it had become a religious and sacred town, a role it continues to play as a place of worship and pilgrimage. 

Walking through the compound, feeling the spirits of those who once ruled from here, I contemplated the bustling energy of Antananarivo and the peacefulness of the past. It struck me how much a place can change and how history continues to shape the city and its people.