Part 2: 16th & 17th March in and Around Flic en Flac

Continued …

Yes – “Keysmike” seems like the best bet. I had several “GTalk” conversations with various people – some overlapping (at least with regard to typed conversations). It really is remarkable, this internet. As a physicist, I can’t help feeling a degree of disquiet. The Second Law of Thermodynamics quite clearly states that: “You can’t get nothing for nothing; even less, in fact” So who’s the poor blighter picking up the tab at the end of the day? Ah well, just accept it, I guess.

Can’t help, also, feeling a little guilty at the amount of “work” I managed to get through today. But no: it was strictly necessary to sort out my communications system. Eminently justifiable, in fact.

I finally managed to bully Dharma into letting me pay for lunch today! Then he directed me to one of the campus cash machines – which worked like a charm with my Visa debit card. Another piece of global magic! I prefer using the on-campus ATM as it feels safer. Probably it’s OK in Flic en Flac too, but still.

The driver is booked to pick me up at 3.00pm today because I need to find a replacement for the Swatch that somehow gave up the ghost. He tells me that today is half-day closing in Rose Hill. (In Quatre Bornes, too, it transpires). Undaunted, we cruise into an out-of-town hypermarket and head straight for a jeweller’s where I find a perfectly acceptable Casio. (I know! Not Rolex – and after all the spam on the subject I’ve been studiously ignoring for the past 17½ months, too.). It cost Rs730, or about £13.60 to you, my boy. If you squint at it from a distance of about 53cm you could convince yourself it’s gold. And it says it’s made in Japan. Now I reckon that’s genuinely rare these days!

So once again home. Now is my chance to try out one of the josticks. [what’s the betting it comes out as “joysticks” at least once before this trip ends. Knowing my typing it’s bound to.] It smells marvellous. A quick swim, then down “town” to buy a battery for the wall-clock and “touch base” via the Internet Caf.

Oh yes: I bought my first postcards too. Need to remind myself of the addresses they are to be sent to (or “to which they are to be sent”, if you’re MSWord, d’accord).

The LPG desribes “The Leslie Restaurant” as a “… sweet little Créole place at the north end of town”. I can’t argue with any of that. Nor could Mme Leslie herself, to whom I showed the write-up. I think she was quite chuffed at the prospect of being famous! Now I have never thought much about “spiritual homes” and so forth, but certainly within the confines of Flic en Flac, I would say “The Leslie” is the closest I’ve got to mine. A really smashing place. Very small and very friendly. I fail to see how anyone would not immediately warm to Mme Leslie.

Now I do take issue with LPG on one aspect: it says that the restaurant serves “tasty curries and Chinese dishes in decent proportions.” This is not actually untrue in itself, but it completely misses the most important feature – the Créole dishes!

I had Agneau à la Créole with vegetable fried rice. The latter component may have been Chinese in name, but the entire dish was emphatically not Chinese. It was, I imagine, Créole. Delicious, too. (Well, you didn’t expect anything less, now, did you?)

And I tried a “Rhum Leslie” which I conjectured would be the nearest thing to a house tipple. It was good. No more fancy than rum with ice cubes, really.

Then the coup de grace: bananes flambées! And they (or rather, it) was well and truly alight. I give you precisely no guesses as to what kindled the flambée either. The good news is that there was far more of it on the plate than was needed to fuel the brief pyrotechnic display. So I suppose you could say I got a second helping of Mme’s Rhum à la Maison!

The clientele was intriguing. Down the end was a party of people, mostly ladies of varying ages, of whom I couldn’t decide whether they were local or visitors. A very jolly bunch, at any rate. One of them was on her mobile to someone in – I think – England, and in broken English was imploring the person on the other end to get here quickly as: “my piano is going out of tune”. The mind boggles. (Well mine does, anyway.)

And then a rather creepy gent arrived. Older than me I’d say. Possibly American. Very quietly-spoken. If he hadn’t have sat at the table next to mine I doubt I would have been able to hear him speak. But PICKY. He had to have everything explained to the nth degree. Of course, not a word of French was uttered. At one point Mme and I exchanged a wry grin when we thought he wasn’t looking. There was something about his face though – he looked as though he’d had extensive plastic surgery. I did wonder whether he might have been a war veteran; Vietnam? Or maybe even more recent than that – it’s difficult to judge people’s ages sometimes. So having at first been somewhat annoyed/amused by his demeanour, I ended up actually feeling slightly ashamed, and a bit sorry for the fellow.

On the wall next to me was the biggest – er – well it was anyway, the biggest one I’ve seen. Ever, as far as I can recall. Cockroach? Surely not. It was all of 6cm long and about 3 wide. Long feelers. I was so gob-smacked I’ve tried to photograph it. I am sure they don’t live in the kitchen though. This chappie (or maybe it was a chappess – I don’t know how you tell the difference with these things) was perched on an outside wall that was actually open to the outside world, at that. It sat there perfectly happy throughout my meal. Then a second one scuttled in, did a merry dance and scuttled off again. “Cockroach” Number 1 was completely unfazed by this display, and carried on doing – well, nothing.

“The Leslie” is closed on Mondays. Remember that, C.

Earlier today I uploaded a few pics onto Flickr, but they are much too big as they stand. After butting in because it was taking too long, I discovered it had loaded up five and a half out of six snaps, and used up 21% of my MONTHLY allocation in the process.

I had intended to try setting up a dial-up link from here this evening, but to be honest it has got rather late and I am running out of steam somewhat. So I will say “nighty night”. See you tomorrow.

Friday 17^th March

Behind the fish-landing point

Flicking through the TV channels over breakfast, I chanced upon a news item covering a science education event that the government is promoting. I distinctly heard the name “Rajesh Jeetah” mentioned. That was an English-language report. A few minutes later I was scanning a different channel – Hindi this time – when up popped a shot of a gent at his desk, and I am quite positive it was Raj Jeetah. For those not yet in the know, Raj is currently Mauritius’ Finance Minister. I like to think he wouldn’t have been, but for me! OK, it’s a tenuous link, but as he did his first degree (obtaining a First Class, too, as I recall) in Textile Technology at UMIST; and since I not only taught on, but was actually the undergraduate admissions tutor for, that particular degree programme, I reckon I’m entitled to bask in at least the merest modicum of reflected glory, eh?

Later (about 7.20am – I’m still an early bird, even here!), I discovered they give details on TV-1 of all the expected flight arrival times at M Airport. That should come in handy the day C & P are due here.

Now here’s the great success of today: not with any degree of confidence that it would work, I went through the “Setup New Connection” wizard, using the phone number, ID and password given to me by the university IT bod yesterday. Et … Eureka!! (Sorry about the mixed tongues there). I couldn’t believe it was actually working. I owe the lad a sincere apology. Not that he’s aware I even doubted him in the first place.

So after a mango juice refresher – out of a carton, I’m sorry to admit – I set off for my morning stroll with an extra spring in my step. Found my way to the fish-landing point. Now this is where the beach really is. Took lots of atmospheric shots. [I really will have to learn how to make the horizon not seem like the side of Ben Nevis, though!]

By now it’s time for a bit of a snack – around 11am. I found a promising little Créole-run beach-side place. They were doing breakfasts with coffee, omelettes, sausages etc. I opted for a cheese omelette and a normal coffee. It comes with a plate of bread and butter. It was nice, although the bread was rather on the dry side. Well, I suppose at nearly mid-day what did I expect? So I decided to make this serve as “brunch” so as to save messing about again at 12 noon! I noticed there was just an occasional, what I might describe as “searching”, fragrance. Must be the artificial water feature over there – the one Charley Dimmock definitely didn’t install.

So now I was in for a real treat: in the land of mosquito- (ie “media-”) induced paranoia, what you really want whilst munching on your victuals, is to discover that you’re sat next door to a Wastewater Management (for which read “Dumping”) Depot. It then became apparent that the huge yellow tankers that had been merrily driving in and out for the past 15 minutes were in fact the vectors of that exquisite essence. It also helped to explain the significantly-higher-than-average fly density. Why is it, by the way, that a substance designed to put the fear of God into your average Rambo-style mosquito, and therefore lathered with painstaking precision over every (accessible by oneself!) square cm of skin surface, acts as a positive magnet for your common-or-garden housefly? Pay the bill as quickly as possible, and head back to base! Several successful internet communications later, settled down to a bit more Pete McCarthy. (You’re beginning to regret giving me that book now, aren’t you Caroline!). That was about it until now – typing this at 7.00pm.

I recall I kind of hinted to Mme Leslie that I’d be back there for this evening’s dinner. No problem, except it didn’t seem like the kind of place that would take credit cards, and I’m beginning to get a bit short on the readies again. I suppose I should work more and spend less. Naaaa. Decide on “The Ocean Restaurant” as it’s sure to take credit cards; and anyway, I need to explore as many different establishments as I can – got to do my homework!

I was a bit later getting down there than usual – maybe 7.20pm. Despite that, the restaurant was practically deserted. One couple were eating outside, one inside, and (I took it) the Chinese owner and family (three generations?) were drinking and chatting atr a nearby table. So once again, I’m outnumbered by staff. I suppose it is technically the start of “winter” here, though..

LPG, in about 2003, described this one as “revamped”. In that case, what I am now looking at must be an example of re-revamping because a couple of guys with tape measure and cameras are really giving it the once-over.

I chose the fish in satay sauce with fried rice. That, plus a couple of beers, espresso and Rhum Arrangé came to Rs667 (approx. £12.50). So this was my second arrangé of the trip. The first – way back in Le Bois Noir – was an aperitif. This one a digestif. Seems to work perfectly as either! Tonight’s came in a Cognac-style glass, and was very warming; as if that were needed. There is a very subtle flavour which I can’t quite place. Sitting out here under the stars is very satisfying. Not too hot and certainly not chilly. “Balmy” I suppose is the correct term. And I gather it is still snowing in poor old Manchester. Yes, the rum: must be some herb in there. Caroline may well recognise it as she is a bit of a connoisseuse. Of course, it could simply be the unfamiliar (to philistine moi) flavour of rum itself.

It’s just occurred to me that Week-1 has come to an end, more or less. (I left home early last Friday). So one chapter down, four to go! A body could easily get used to being here long-term.

Now something bothers me a bit. I wonder whether all this detail is very boring for you. I suspect it is far more interesting to me, having experienced it directly, than it is to you, who have to suffer through it. By way of defence though, and for what it’s worth, my view is that it is the minutiae of a journey than make it interesting - even mysterious. The main tourist sights and activities are excessively and repeatedly documented in the guide books, internet and elsewhere, but it’s the little things that I find intriguing. [Err... I almost hate to mention this, but just now I caught sight of one “little thing”: a small rodent of some kind scurrying across the living room floor! I’m sure, like everything else here, it’s quite harmless, but makes you think. I haven’t a clue how it got in because every window and door is battened down Fort Knox-style. I have made sure the bedroom doors are well and truly shut though! Maybe it won’t like the anti-mosquito pads in the bedrooms? I can always hope it isn’t related to a house-fly! Hmm. Thinks back a week: an Indian family from Ireland and a “device against rats” …. Perhaps if I give it a named, like, say, “Cecil”, it will make it seem more like a pet! Ah well, c’est la vie – part of life’s rich tapestry. As I may have observed before somewhere, the real enemy here is the invisible UV. In the rush to cream up against mosquitoes etc. it is very easy to neglect the Factor 8!]

I’m feeling ever so slightly guilty I didn’t go back to “The Leslie” this evening. No, don’t be ridiculous: my absence won’t even have been

Noticed. Surely?

OK, time to close this chapter I reckon. Seriously, if you’d rather not hear all this rambling detail you will let me know? Won’t you? Because I’m afraid there is a