My Mauritius

My Mauritius

by Paolo Rossetti

Copyright 2013 Paolo Rossetti

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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FOREWORD

A website for readers offers extra photos and author notes: http://www.mymymauritius.com

This book is a combination of a personal travel experience to the island of Mauritius, a series of fictional short stories based on historical events, and the cultural insights from the author's interviews with Mauritian people.

Although Mauritius is one of the top island destinations in the world, there are no cultural travel books currently available beyond the pocket travel guides.

These commercial series provide factual information on the island's history, topography, climate, economy, vegetation, flora, fauna, birdlife and underwater life. They also highlight the traditions of the different cultures, as well as the major festivals, crafts and architecture. Major tourist attractions, main towns, resorts, beaches and casinos are covered, as well as special interest visits, sports, water sports and diving.

But they are a soul-less description, and nowadays all those facts are easily found online.

My Mauritius is an attempt to create a unique book that delivers all that information but through a humorous first-person family travel experience with anecdotal snippets of historical fiction and cultural insights from interviews with local personalities.

These three strands are woven together to form the narrative, in brief and dynamic chapters.

Hopefully, the journey will not only interest the million tourists who visit Mauritius annually, but also the armchair dreamer.

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1 - HIKING LE POUCE, travel experience

Chapter 2 - INTERVIEW WITH YAN DE MAROUSSEM, owner of Yanature Adventure

Chapter 3 - FIRE IN THE SEA, historical fiction

Chapter 4 - CLOUDS ON THE HORIZON, historical fiction

Chapter 5 - INTERVIEW WITH CARLA LOPES, restaurateur

Chapter 6 - ACCOMMODATION AND BIRD NESTS, travel experience

Chapter 7 - GOING DUTCH, historical fiction

Chapter 8 - INTERVIEW WITH DIANE LABOUCHERIE, wildlife guide

Chapter 9 - ÎLE AUX AIGRETTES, travel experience

Chapter 10 - PIRATES AND TRADERS, historical fiction

Chapter 11 - INTERVIEW WITH TIPTI, boat captain

Chapter 12 - SAILING THE LAGOON, travel experience

Chapter 13 - FRENCH LIFESTYLE, historical fiction

Chapter 14 - INTERVIEW WITH EMMANUEL RICHON, museum curator

Chapter 15 - DOMAINES, CANYONING AND ZIP-LINING, travel experience

Chapter 16 - SLAVERY, historical fiction

Chapter 17 - INTERVIEW WITH DENIS-CLAUDE GASPARD, musician

Chapter 18 - SEGA BEAT, travel experience

Chapter 19 - INTERVIEW WITH COLETTE LE CHARTIER, Heritage Trust Fund

Chapter 20 - BRITISH AFFAIRS, historical fiction

Chapter 21 - INTERVIEW WITH Mme MAY, café owner

Chapter 22 - SUGARCANE, LEYLANDS AND BEDFORDS, travel experience

Chapter 23 - INDIAN LABOURERS, historical fiction

Chapter 24 - INTERVIEW WITH DR. KOONJAL, Mahatma Gandhi Institute

Chapter 25 - INDIAN WEDDING, travel experience

Chapter 26 - CHINESE BROTHERHOOD, historical fiction

Chapter 27 - INTERVIEW WITH SOMRAH SUBACHAND, emigrant worker

Chapter 28 - RENTING A CAR and LI WAN PO, travel experience

Chapter 29 - MÉTIS IN THE MIDDLE, historical fiction

Chapter 30 - INTERVIEW WITH NICOLAS MOTET, owner of KITEland

Chapter 31 - KITE SURFING AND CREOLE, travel experience

Chapter 32 - SSR, historical fiction

Chapter 33 - INTERVIEW WITH JAQUELINE DALAIS, restaurateur table d’hôte

Chapter 34 - NOEL, PATRICK AND WILD BOAR RECIPE, travel experience

Chapter 35 - INDEPENDENCE DAY, historical fiction

Chapter 36 - INTERVIEW WITH VACO BAISSAC, artist

Chapter 37 - INTERVIEW WITH PATRICK HABERLAND, owner of Yemaya Aventures

Chapter 38 - SEA KAYAKING AND ÎLE D’AMBRE, travel experience

Chapter 39 - MODERN LIFE, fiction

Chapter 40 - INTERVIEW WITH KEVIN JUGGURNANTH, Haras Du Morne; and JEAN-MARIE SAUZIER, botanist and owner of Pépinière Exotica

Chapter 41 - HORSE SWIMMING AND DRIVING, travel experience

Contacts

Disclaimer

Author's Contact

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Chapter 1

HIKING LE POUCE, travel experience

Ah, the emerald green mountains of Mauritius! You spot them first from the air, and it feels like you’re landing on Tortuga, the infamous pirate island!

Sharp peaks pounce out of green sugarcane fields, dramatically ambushing passing clouds.

One of the first things I wanted to do was climb up high to get a bird’s eye view of the island - to get my bearings, as I told my teenage daughter. I took her roll of eyes to mean Super! Let’s do that first thing in the morning!

My wife, and the source of all my wisdom, was game too, especially since she’s the only one in the family who actually hikes. I have used public transport for years, in all sorts of weather, walking to the bus stop and back, and so I automatically qualify as an outdoorsman.

I selected our trail with care, asking the first chatty store clerk in Bagatelle Mall. Right behind here, sir, he said, Come see. He actually took me out to the parking lot to point at a nearby peak – Le Pouce! he exclaimed, giving me a cheesy thumbs-up.

To tell the truth, it looks like a hill with a bit of rock sticking up at the top, but he said that from the summit you can see all of Mauritius, including the capital Port Louis, so that’s a pretty good place to start, I reckoned. We can tackle a proper mountain later.

Boy Scout training at the ready, I knew I had to do some research: Le Pouce, meaning the thumb – ah-ha moment: that’s why the thumbs-up from the retail sales dude – elevation: 812 meters. What? That’s it? Where I come from we have the Alps, towering up to over 4000 meters, and where I live I’m a crow’s glide from the Rocky Mountains, and I’ve visited Nepal, too. So anything under, let’s say, 3000 meters can hardly be called a mountain in the first place.

But Le Pouce does allegedly offer unsurpassed views of the island, 360-degrees as far as my bespectacled eyes can see, and so, regardless of the fact I have never set foot in the Alps, nor the Rockies, and certainly not the Himalayas, I decided to grace the gentle slopes of Le Pouce with my adventurous footsteps.

Plus, I can get some awesome photos from up there, and ‘scout out the terrain’. It felt good saying that! The euphoria of arriving to a brand-new place, all ready for the exploration, had not affected my judgment in the least.

Ready? Early morning start, that’s how mountaineers do it!

We stopped at Bagatelle Mall for a heavy brunch at Mugg and Bean ending at around 11:00, and I had the ‘heart-stopper special’ of three eggs with everything the cook can soak in lard – I needed the energy for the climb, of course; otherwise it would have been healthy rabbit pellets.

A hearty breakfast is how you start the day if you need the energy, I told myself as I dragged my backpack out of the car – ooof! Definitely need the extra calories to carry that for half the day! Funnily enough, the eggs, sausages, bacon, hash browns, all washed down with mugs of café au lait, seemed to weigh more in my belly than the pack on my back.

But I was prepared. Hiking boots in handsome handmade leather, surplus Italian military, styled from the year 1915 – issued only to officers, I had been told. Still had the caked mud from the trenches, I was told. I knew that was a lie, because I can hardly expect to believe that officers would actually tread in muddy trenches – but on the flip side, I knew they would be excellent boots for walking distances at speed.

In the Italian army you never know when you might become engaged in a swift and protracted retreat on foot; and for sure the officers would take upon themselves the duty of leading the way, eagerly out-marching the rank and file, and so their boots were surely the best.

They were a little on the heavy side, but they did sonorously produce a very solid clump at every step – sounded right like proper boots, not those flimsy light-weight Gore-Tex baby bootsies of nowadays. You could probably survive an extra week in the wild just chewing on the soles for nutrition. And the laces were meters long, handily doubling as emergency rope and tie-downs for any salamis you might want dangling off your belt.

On my back I had my camera gear. All of it, I had decided in the end. I might need the polarizing filter for those blue skies. And my tripod, to avoid camera shake. And the simple 50mm prime lens, which is super-sharp and excellent for landscapes; and the 18-200mm zoom lens as well, so I have the flexibility of framing the photo just as I want - can’t step forwards or backwards once I'm on the narrow mountain summit, I chuckled to myself; I’ll need my other zoom lens, too, even if it is rather heavy. I threw in some extra batteries for my flash, in case I needed to shine light into a cave.

It all crammed perfectly into my pro photographer – or, photog, as we like to call ourselves – backpack, though I would need to strap it down well to manage to close the flap.

High-tech hiking pants, with Swiss-Army-knife-inspired pockets holding my snacks, emergency rations, butch survival knife which doubles as a hammer for tent pegs, vintage compass, and a water bottle so big the Titanic could sink in it; and long-sleeved anti-mosquito treated shirt, which the label says also provides UV protection: boy, was I prepared for this hike!

I scoffed at my wife, who ridiculously thought she would tackle Le Pouce in a pair of jogging shorts, a tank-top, and a waist pack! An old pair of sneakers and short socks completed her ‘equipment’ – how could you possibly even consider hiking in any sock that does not reach the knee? – and I sniggered to myself silently: You’ll be sorry, Ms Hiker! I always suspected her completing the 900-km Camino de Santiago hike across Northern Spain was more a series of wobbly strolls from wine-tasting albergues to executive refugios than a proper hike.

Directions to the trailhead were crystal-clear, and it only took me three tries to find the turn-off. From Bagatelle Mall parking lot, as you exit, turn right and at the second roundabout follow the road around to the left, where it meanders gently downhill. Refrain from turning right at the first street, which I did, twice. At the third street, turn right, at the signpost to Mount Ory. About 50 meters after the village, passing a small brick bridge and just after the road takes a sharp bend right, take left into a narrow tarmac lane heading directly into sugarcane fields, straight towards the mountain with the pointy thumb rock on top, and the trail head. There is a handy place to park your car directly next to the start of the trail, and the trail is well marked, further up even sporting a signpost with distances and elevations.

We started out bravely, happily soaking in the sun as the trail cut through the sugarcane. Every so often we would turn around and admire the view, and soon we were high enough to see the green fields giving way to houses and roads.

Further ahead, the trail enters a forested area, and the going got rocky and slippery, no doubt due to earlier rain. The shade was welcome, but the mosquitoes quickly found us and lined up for the buffet. The little bloodthirsty beasts had somehow even colluded to increase the steepness of the trail to slow us down for easy pickings. I can definitively report that my mosquito-proof shirt was in fact mislabeled. I guess ‘attractive to mosquitoes’ is tricky to translate from Chinese, and it comes out in English as ‘mosquito-proof’.

Still, we labored on. Me wheezing and spluttering, relying more and more on my walking stick; and my wife, playing so well the role of thorn in my side, hopping from rock to rock like a frisky ibex. Our daughters, young and eager, ominously took turns asking me if I was all right. I suppose my turnip complexion gave me away.

But we made it far enough. Enough so that I was crawling on all fours and we were out of the forest, up on a grassy plateau where the views opened up and the trail split. A sharp ledge beckoned, and I spotted monkeys on the rocky outcrops of the mount opposite, but it could have been hallucinations brought on by the exertion. As a matter of fact, this is one of the few spots on Mauritius where crab-eating macaques can be seen. Between gasps, I could have seen macaques, or maybe just hairy angels come to transport me away after my impending heart attack.

But I survived. You didn’t think I was writing this from the afterlife, did you now? And as the rasping breathing quietened down, I began to appreciate the fruits of my efforts. Well, we weren’t exactly at the summit, but as I turned to look at the gentle grassy plateau we had reached high above the plains below us, and then glanced to the right to see the granite monolith of Le Pouce poking out of the grass, with its evil, twisted trail steeply ascending, I was content to re-align my objectives and call the hike a triumphant success.

We made it! I yelled out convincingly, raising both arms in victory. I think my family were relieved, simply because they were silently considering how they would manage to roll my unconscious body all the way back down the trail if I collapsed up here.

We had our views: absolutely breath-taking! And we had our first exploratory mountain hike in Mauritius, and we were quite content to turn our focus to the beaches, which is what most people come to Mauritius for in the first place.

For the record, and for you horrible fit and energetic hiking people, from the trail junction we reached, you could scramble up to the very summit of Le Pouce for astounding 360-degree mountain-top views, and then back down to the junction again to continue the trail all the way to Port Louis itself, a total of 9 km, emerging into civilization at the Champ de Mars racecourse parking lot. From there taking a taxi into Port Louis is easy, making the hike a one-way affair if you don’t leave a car parked at the initial trailhead.

On this hike, you would be following famous footsteps: Charles Darwin himself preceded you on the 2nd of May, 1836. I'll bet he didn't bother capping the summit, either.

Due to the large number of critically endangered plant species found in the natural reserve of Le Pouce - third largest on Mauritius, at almost 70 hectares - it is important that you stay on the trail and never pluck any flower or plant. If you are so inclined, the rare and endemic plants living in the area are: Cylindrocline commersonii, Roussea simplex, Pandanus pseudomontanus, and Psiadia pollicina. The dominant and common plants you will encounter are Bois carotte, Bois de natte, Bois d'olive, Immortelle, and Bois de chandelle.

A number of very beautiful walks criss-cross Mauritius, some of them gentle and some of them seriously challenging. Trou aux Cerfs offers a nice walk around the rim of the only dormant volcano, and a lovely lake nests in the crater. Its name means 'watering hole for deer' and the walk around the top is around a kilometer on an old tarmac road with exceptional open views. A narrow and impossible-to-find trail winds down to the bottom of the crater and you can be lakeside in allegedly 20 minutes.

The Macchabee Trail is a more serious walk, about 10 kilometers one-way across the ridges of the Black River Gorges National Park, starting from the Petrin Information