| Off the beaten track in Mauritius
Most people may think of Mauritius as a sun, sea and sand destination, but there's far more to this cosmopolitan Indian Ocean island than that. The sweet smell of jasmine, mixed with the scent of freshly-baked savouries, cinnamon and ginger spice, hung in the air. At a dozen closely-set tables, diners chattered in Hindi, French and Creole, some switching from one language to another with apparent ease. Indian women in colourful saris sat next to men in suits; a Hawaiian-shirted tourist eyed a stunning Metis girl whose hair dropped to her shoulders in a mass of black curls. Then a waiter, bearing a platter piled high with shrimp curry, fish masala and cumin rice, sailed in from the kitchen, dispensing laden plates with an easy smile. My stomach rumbled in anticipation. Diners at the Cari Poule, one of the most popular restaurants in the Mauritian capital of Port Louis, are a microcosm of this tiny, cosmopolitan isle: two-thirds Indian, part African-Creole, with some Chinese citizens and a few Europeans (mainly descendants of the island's first sugar planters). Mauritius is a heady mix of ethnic and religious groups, attractive Creole and colonial architecture, transparent seas, low mountains and sugar cane plains. For such a small island, it has variety in abundance. Take Port Louis. Until recently the capital rarely featured on a visitor's priority list, but development of the Caudan waterfront in the late 1990s, incorporating old dockside buildings and a new marina, changed all that. The Caudan has helped draw new life into a city that was once deserted after office hours. Visitors now follow locals to the upmarket boutiques, multiplex cinema and pavement cafés of this happy mix of old and new. The heart of the city is changing too, though there are still remnants of its former life as the capital of a French, then British, colony. At Government House, a statue of a matronly Queen Victoria looks out unsmiling from the three-storey, colonnaded building built in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Government House is the traditional focal point of the capital, standing at the head of the Place d'Armes - renamed the tongue-twisting Place Sookdeo Bissoondoyal in honour of a leading Indo-Mauritian politician. From here a broad avenue, flanked by elegant palm trees which seem to mirror the columns of colonial buildings, leads to the docks and to the statue of Mahe de Labourdonnais, the former French governor who did much for the city in its early days. To the north of SB Place lies Mauritius' own China Town, a busy thoroughfare of small shops and family traders, where Indian curry houses give way to Chinese sweet and sour. Garish plastic and chrome ornaments gleam from shop windows while halfway down Royal Street stands the extraordinarily ornate Jummah Mosque, with its priceless teak doors and decorative towers, built for Muslim merchants in the mid-19th century. China Town bustles with traders and traffic and, having glimpsed the mosque's marble interior, dodged porters in the watch-your-wallet street and avoided the ruinous temptations of the Chinese casino, I needed a bit of space. Turning into Jummah Mosque Street I climbed up to Fort Adelaide, Port Louis' citadel, built by the British in 1835. At the entrance to the crumbling ruins I was almost alone. To the south rose Port Louis' volcanic backdrop, with the peaks of Pieter Both and the appropriately named La Pouce ("the thumb"). Below, to the north, lay the changing city skyline, the docks and the vastness of the Indian Ocean beyond. Outside Port Louis, the PR people have summed up Mauritius as sun, sea and sand, which is partly what it's about, but what stands out in my mind are the extraordinary Pamplemousse Gardens (one of the best kept tropical gardens to be found anywhere), the rugged south coast and that strange sense of disjointed familiarity one sometimes has in foreign climes - shopping streets in Rose Hill and Quatre Bornes have a touch of multi-ethnic London, with branches of Barclays and adverts for desk diaries "newly arrived from England". On my last visit, while idly watching Creole fisherman at Cap Malheureux, Mauritius' beautiful northern tip, I was jolted out of my tropical bliss by the sound of an ice cream van playing "Jingle bells". "Mr Whippy" served up a Flake 99 to a Chinese schoolgirl and changed the tune to "I come from Alabama with a Banjo on my Knee".The rhythm changed again at dusk. In my friendly, family-run hotel (excuse the brochure-speak) I was kept awake all night by the wailing sounds of popular Hindi music. "A wedding," said Joggee, the proprietor, "a distant cousin. You could have joined in." It was a Grand Baie wedding, complete with garlands strung across the street, and tables laid out with samosas, onion bhajis, chapattis and rich Indian sweets sprinkled with coconut and dripping with honey. Grand Baie is Mauritius' answer to St. Tropez, fashionable and bustling in season, with one of the island's leading hotels, The Royal Palm, offering master suites around £2,000 a night. It's the main centre for sailing and diving, or for exploring the reef in a glass-sided submarine. Most of the island's leading gift stores are here, though quality varies. Goods range from cuddly dodos to imported Asian handicrafts and distinctive prints by one of Mauritius' best-known artists, Malcolm de Chazal. For further information on travel in Africa, visit Travel Africa Magazine Mauritius may look to the coast for its tourist dollars (and francs, rands and pounds), but naturalists and country lovers head south to the Black River Gorges National Park, a small reserve of remnant forest and heathland, rocky outcrops and the occasional waterfall. Here are found pandanus palms (screwpines), a few ebony and teak trees, and many of the island's 150 endemic plants, including orchids and feathery ferns. At Black River the Mauritian authorities - making up for the slaughter of the dodo 300 years ago - are trying to save some of the island's threatened wildlife, notably the endangered Mauritian kestrel and the pink pigeon. Other endemic birds include the scarlet-headed Mauritius fody (also known as the banana bird or cardinal), the Mauritius flycatcher and a local parakeet, whose call is neatly summed up in Linnean Latin as Psittacula echo. Like the island itself Mauritius' wildlife comes in mini portions. There are no large mammals here, though I once surprised a pair of macaque monkeys, introduced from south-east Asia, sneaking out of a cane field. In the forest, Mauritian fruit bats hang from trees, their nervous fox-like faces peeking out from beneath their wings. As if Mauritians haven't learnt the lesson of the dodo, however, fruit bats are still caught for the pot. More adventurous souls can seek out endemic reptiles on several micro-islands, Round Island, Flat Island and Gabriel Island, to the north of the mainland. The islands formed the focus for one of the late Gerald Durrell's wildlife-collecting forays. Several Mauritian species, including Telfair's skink, Gunther's geckos, boas and the pink pigeon, subsequently formed part of a breeding programme at Durrell's Jersey Wildlife Preservation Trust - whose symbol, incidentally, is the dodo. On the cultural front, Mauritius is more limited. Many of the island's earliest buildings, battered by cyclones or demolished by developers' zeal, have themselves gone the way of the dodo, although what stands today is as varied as the Mauritian people and reflects the island's multi-cultural traditions. Hindu temples adorned with statues of Krishna, Parvati and Ganesh (the elephant god) dot the landscape. Modest Creole houses with timber walls and hot tin roofs are now the exception rather than the rule, though often a delight. Quaint old churches pop up in the most unlikely places; occasional mosques call the faithful to prayer. Large estate houses, too, are an essential part of the Mauritian landscape. One of the earliest of these grandiose villas, known as Eureka, is now a private museum preserved much as it was in the 19th century. A long, low house, magnificently sited beneath Junction Peak, south of Port Louis, it features a wraparound verandah, a style that was repeated in a multitude of forms throughout the island. Inside, fine period furniture, much of it from the French and English East India Companies, creates an atmosphere of another, long lost world. Several other historic houses are also open to the public. At Curepipe, hidden down a leafy sidestreet, lies the Sablonniere, a traditional house built in 1888 and set in formal gardens, with beds of yellow day lilies, slender palms and an extraordinary tropical fig tree. In the grounds stands a miniature Eiffel Tower, a curious reminder of the family's French origins. The house is now a luxury carpet shop selling intricate silk weaves from Kashmir. Even more impressive is the fine Saint Aubin plantation house which now operates as an up-market restaurant (reservations only). Before lunch, diners can tour the local anthurium nurseries and neighbouring tea factory. The rich sweet smell of prepared tea and the glorious red anthurium blooms are the perfect complement to a Mauritian meal of palm heart salad and dry curry, accompanied by rougaille, a hot tomato and onion side dish. As the English poet William Cowper wrote in 1785: "Variety's the very spice of life / That gives it all its flavour." He could have been talking about Mauritius. Mauritius Factfile Getting There Getting Around Where to Stay When to go What to Pack Local Tourist Information Chris Hellier is a freelance travel writer and photographer whose work has appeared in numerous publications, including Time, Sunday Times, International Herald Tribune, and World Magazine. For further information on travel in Africa, visit Travel Africa Magazine Published in Travel Africa Edition Sixteen: Summer 2001 Text is subject to Worldwide Copyright (c) |