But this lovely little hilltop town is a beautiful place. Set high on the central Madagascan plateau, it is surrounded by soaring limestone massifs, smoothed and striped over time by the weather; emerald green rice padis; fields of cassava and maize; and herds of zebu being chased along the road by their minders. The surrounding villages have a distinctive difference to those further west, their two storey red facades glowing in the afternoon sun, balconies carved in great detail and adorned with drying cobs of corn. The town itself has a European appearance, the houses in the main street all colonial and crumbling, the wooden balconies once brightly painted but now faded and damaged due to lack of care. Ambalavao is likeable not only for its lack of cars and pousse-pousses, but its friendly inhabitants all calling out 'bonjour vazaha!' as they saunter past on foot, or glide along on bikes.
We were surprised at how quickly it became cold once the sun went down, and were soon diving into our bags to score thermals, socks and scarves for the cold evenings, where we scoured the city seeking out hot cups of tea and lasopy - the Chinese-inspired noodle soup.
We'd timed our visit to Ambalavao pretty well, as the following day was market day. Set right in the centre of town, the market is a bustling hive of activity, with villagers coming from far and wide to sell their fresh produce: stacks of brightly coloured raffia baskets; dried fish threaded onto skewers; piles of carefully arranged potato greens, persimmons, tomatoes and onions and handfuls of garlic cloves.
In the other part of this vast market you could find almost anything: Chelsea FC belts, battery operated radios, posters of Britney Spears, religious hangings for your loungeroom wall, hair clips, hand-made soap, vials of veterinarian injections, second-hand clothing, dried herbs and bark, traditional medicine. You name it, they sold it. The butchery section had vast displays of freshly cut slabs of meat, zebu heads and strings of sausages hung up everywhere. We had loads of fun wandering around in here.
But Ambalavao is best known for its zebu market - the biggest in the country. On a lofty, picturesque hilltop just outside of town, the people come from far and wide - sometimes walking for days on end, herding their animals to market - in order to buy and sell their stock. Zebu, the prized possession of anyone who can afford them, determine your wealth, status and ability to get married, based on the number of these beasts that you own. We wandered around the market for a while, watching the nervous animals jittering and shuffling away as potential buyers checked them out from all sides, the owners identified by the big sticks that they held and the way that they closely guarded their stock.
We could have watching the comings and goings of Ambalavao's markets all day. But we had a more interesting activity to look forward to: four days trekking through Parc National d'Andringitra.
We'd wondered where the really huge zebu with their vicious-looking horns were as we'd wandered around the market - sure, there were plenty of them around but they were fairly small in size - but our question was soon answered as our 4x4 wound its way slowly down the hill. We passed hundreds of the massive beasts, tired from many days' walking, all bottle-necked at a certain point in the road, but obviously headed for the market. We discovered that before being allowed for sale, all zebu must be checked by the police (to ensure they're not stolen) and be given a once-over by a vet (to ensure they're not sick). Fair enough; good system. So we bid the cow police and their vet buddies farewell and headed off towards the park.
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