I sit on the balcony of Chez Vaco in Grand Baie, Mauritius, drinking vanilla tea and eating oranges. I am listening to the calls of a dove sing its echoes of morning peace. Spills of sunshine pour down and curdle at my feet. Unseen doors open and bump close all about me. A motorcycle rattles down the small alleyway, which is my home for the next week. A small child laughs and calls out in Creole. I am so happy to be here in a house with stone walls and stone floors with mountains all around.
Impressions of Mauritius? There is a warmth here which is so familiar. People stop and say hello. People have time to talk and listen. People smile, people scowl, but all reply to 'Ki manier?' (How are you?) - 'Tou koreck' (all right). There are many old souls in Mauritius, this mythical island of pirates and paradise. Lanes and roads are there to be travelled either by bare foot or by bus. You can wander for hours following your own path, marching to the beat of your own drum.
The dove outside my balcony keeps calling. Soft, constant, full of natural love. A purple flower hides in the shade of the tree that grows inside the courtyard of Chez Vaco. Today is going to be hot; skies are already blue, housing big, fat white clouds far out at sea. The main beach here, Mon Choisy, is already filling with locals all sharing time together, eating together, playing drums, drinking rum and swimming in the lagoons of the Indian Ocean. Time for me to join them and dream of a perfect pair of coconuts.
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