First impressions as we came into Port Louis were that it looked like Suva, Tahiti, Hawaii. Any city on a tropical, volcanic island in fact. Green lushness and jagged mountains with white buildings at their feet and to the water. The port was busy and full of factories belching smoke, forming brown clouds amongst the white. Not pretty.
On shore, we were met by our Creole guide, Henry. A lovely, smiley man who showed us some of the sights. English is the official language here, but most people speak Creole, and most of the signs are written in French. Actually, I loved the place names here. Towns called Curepipe, Flic en Flac, Pampelmousses, Bambous....
Our first stop was the Casela Nature Park where I caught a glimpse of the Mauritius Pink Pigeon, one of the rarest birds in the world. My favourite bird though was the Peach Headed Love Bird. It had insane, googly eyes set in its peach head, and brilliant yellow plumage everywhere else. I want one. Do you think they have them in the pet stores in NZ??? There were also several Seychelles Tortoises which roamed freely for us to pet. A woman kept calling them Gloppagus tortoises in a broad American accent and it took me a while to realise she meant Galapagos. I ran into another woman coming out of the toilets in her crisp white outfit, who asked me, “Could you tell me if there’s a mark on the back of my trousers?” Does Mikael Gorbachev have a birthmark on his head? Lady, have you crapped in your pants? I mean, “a mark”?! She had massive stains all down her trousers. She’d sat in bird poo.....majorly. I personally couldn’t think of a worse location to sit down in white trousers than in a bird park. But that’s me.
Henry broke a twig off a tree and asked us to name the spice. Apparently I was the first person to EVER guess correctly. He thought I must be a chef. Ha ha ha. It was pepper, and it smelt exactly like white pepper, although this was wild pepper.
Interesting factoid: 25% of Mauritians suffer from Type 2 diabetes, including Henry. He said it was from all the rice they ate and arranged marriages. Couldn’t quite figure that one out, and didn’t get the chance to ask him. So there’s a little mystery to unravel when I get bored of going to exhibitions of paint drying.
Mauritius was the home to the dodo before they were all killed by the Dutch many hundreds of years ago. The Dutch described them as tasting disgusting and vomit-inducing, and impossibly tough to eat if cooked too much. So the big question is, if they were so awful to eat, why kill them all?
From the park we went to the island’s second biggest town, Curepipe (pronounced Curapeep). We visited a miniature-ship-making factory-slash-souvenir shop for rich ignorant tourists. OK, I bought some local rum there. They used to drink that on ships didn’t they? Oh, and I bought the world’s best souvenir in the craft market in Port Louis. A white cotton tablecloth....embroidered with blue dodos!! Are you jealous?
The centre of the island, where Curepipe is, is a volcanic plateau. Coming down from there, back to Port Louis, we had grand views of the island and the reef that surrounds it. I really liked how you could drive along the road and there would be a Tamil temple, next to a Hindu shrine, next to a Catholic church, next to an Assembly of God hall. So much worship, in some form or other.
Dad had a great day too, but that’s his story to tell. We’ve already swapped notes over cocktails, and now we’re back out at sea. Reunion Islands tomorrow.
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