Google Paradise

Ah, Mauritius. An island of rainforest green and crystal blue water. Of fresh, humid air that hangs long after a morning shower (and by shower, I mean downpour). Of French and Creole tongue, dark skin, little traffic. 75% of the tourism in Mauritius is honeymooners. The other 25% is families, now families probably because of the honeymoon. We loaded on the bus this morning to sprinkles, which turned into raindrops, which turned into rather large droplets, but clouds always burn off by noon.

I spent the day on a SAS-hosted trip, an FDP suggested for my oceanography class. The description said we would go to the Isle de Deux Cocos, or Island of the Two Turtles. We would snorkel and ride on glass-bottom boats. Lunch was included. What we didn’t realize was that we were being taken to an island frequently rented out for honeymooners, white sand beaches littered with shells and protected by black volcanic rocks. This island went for 2,000 Euros a night. Included in the tab was a 15-person staff all to yourself, all-inclusive food and beverages, and warm, tropical waters 15 steps from the porch of your Indian-themed vacation home away from home. Not too shabby.

When we got there, we were rushed under villas as the rain fell on our lowered heads and necks. But the rain didn’t stop the island staff. We were brought grape juice in wine glasses and sat on big red cushions with matching pillows while we waited. When the rain let up we explored the shoreline, Sanibel-stooping to save new shells for our collections. In small groups, we were given snorkeling gear and driven out to a reef maybe 100 yards off shore. Others took glass-bottom rides, drifting over staghorn corals and parrot fish, easily visible in the shallow waters of the Indian Ocean. Offshore, massive waves broke against the fringing reef, the one place they told us we couldn’t swim, although we were all very content within the limits of our playground anyways.

Lunch was served buffet style, with five different sections of Mauritian foods. When I sat down at the table, already decorated with napkins, glasses, and silverware, my plate was piled high. Mustard colored chicken, a red-seasoned tuna, a crispy yellow-seasoned tuna, lamb, shrimp and pineapple kabobs, and lobster tail, and that’s just from the grill. Baked potatoes, hot and cold pastas, salad, and rolls. I felt like there was a little subliminal advertising going on here. (Come back to Mauritius for your honeymoon. You know you can’t resist! Seconds proved them right.). After our feast, it was time for more snorkeling, exploring the island, and relaxing in hammocks. When 3:30 rolled around and it was time to leave, Ray and I were dragging our toes through the crisp, clean water at the end of the dock, swinging our legs back and forth, like the ending of a movie. The clouds never came back after their morning parade, and I would tell them to their face that I wasn’t sorry to see them go in the first place.

By way of other students, everyone who was anyone spent their day on a “booze cruise”, a catamaran ride around the island on a boat stocked with alcohol. I’m not sure how so many drunk people ended up on the ship without docktime, or how one kid, after drinking himself into oblivion, ended up in the hospital (last I heard he was in stable condition but unresponsive). All I know is that I wouldn’t have picked any other way to spend my day in Mauritius.