The famous Spar complex in Flic en Flac
Set my alarm clock especially early (
And Pete, that reminds me: did you see a news item the other day about
Next I went to the hole-in-the-wall at the bank, and another successful transaction was made. It’s probably the best place around here because there is usually a uniformed officer standing nearby.
Then off to the Spar – usual stuff: fruit juice, bread, cheese. Loaded up with two carrier bags. On the way back to the bungalow I spotted a rather large lizard at the roadside. Now, very handily I have with me my camcorder; nicely tucked away at the bottom of my backpack, and having both hands occupied with Spar-produce I don’t even attempt to film it. There will be other opportunities. Perhaps. But I swear the devils (and that includes the most colourful birds hereabouts) do this kind of thing deliberately. They know. They spot you and think: “Ah-ha! Who’s a dozy touroid, then? Forgot to have your camera ready, didn’t you my lad! I’ll just give you a delightful display, get you all flustered so you won’t be able to produce and deploy the kit in time.” And then: “Here it comes, the Konika … Ta-ta, mate. I’m off!”. I’m sure we’ve all been there. Or somewhere like it.
Just realised I did all the above, including typing up to this point, before
A short while ago I made my regular vain attempt to extract a useful summary of today’s top international news stories from the TV. Found BBC World. Pete McCarthy has an alternative name for it: “BBC Bland International” – and I know exactly what he’s talking about. Why is it that the very instant you step foot off dear old Blighty you are supposed, by some mysterious biological process not yet even begun to be understood, to develop an insatiable appetite for the Dubai Stock Exchange? Hmm? Why? The best thing that can be said about BBCBI is that it isn’t CNN. That’s on a different channel. Or not. I think it depends on which way the wind is blowing. At any rate even as I type, the Michigan Aces are no doubt thrashing the living daylights out of the Little Rock Daredevils. Either that or it’ll be “world” news: ie Iran’s audacious determination to have what proper “civilised” “trustworthy” nations take for granted but which, because it isn’t, it can’t. And in-depth analysis of course. In-excruciating-depth. [Actually, I am firmly convinced that the world needs nuclear power rather less than it needs an attack of monster asteroids, but at least let’s have a level playing field!]
Mind you, the other channels are not much better - although they are more entertaining, in a squirmingly embarrassing sort of way. It’s when you catch a Hindi soap that’s been dubbed into French, uses backdrops to make “Crossroads”[1] proud, and in which, without prior warning, the actors launch into a high-spirited and jolly love duet that you remind yourself of why you came here in the first place. TO NOT WATCH TV.
Most of the afternoon frittered away faffing about making most of my photos small enough for the internet. It is an unbelievably slow and tedious business because I can see no way of avoiding going through the entire process separately for each one – it would be nice to be able to set a default size-reduction of 25%, for instance. But no. Clearly that would be too useful.
I just had a pleasant swim. The place is much busier now, with many other people using the pool. I formed the impression they were all Mauritians, of Indian extraction. I suspect they flock to the coast for the weekend. I’ll be curious to see what the situation is come Monday.
My conscience got the better of me, as it were, and I decided to return to “The Leslie Restaurant”. There was one single guy already there, but that was all (at about 7.10pm). I ordered Rhum des Iles, Le poulet à la Créole and a
On the way home I get the most spectacular view of The Milky Way, it being as yet too early for the Moon to have risen. I don’t think I’ve seen it like that since the Norfolk Broads once when I was a youth on hols.
So back to complete this record, download the pics etc. I walk into the spare bedroom, and there, bold as you like, on the far wall, is “Cuthbert”, cousin of Clarence. What to do. What I really want to do is, through structured argument, persuade the beastie to leave the premises forthwith, but that is not going to be an option – they run like Olympic sprinters. Then I remember from somewhere that they become less active as the temperature drops, and the seed of another cunning plan begins to germinate. Put the A/C on, shut the door and come back in 15 mins. Good. That done, return. Aha. He’s still there. Sneak up on him with the broom and dust-pan, and … he’s off again – scurry scurry. He gets panicked and takes to filght – blimey he’s got a wing-span to rival an Airbus (A300 Series)! He bumbles round the room, lands and scurries – and the process is repeated several more time before I decide an even more cunning plan is needed. Got it! Remember seeing an ashtray in the kitchen As I don’t smoke I have no qualms about sullying it with essence of cockroach! He’s sitting smugly on the wall twitching his moustache (sorry - feelers). Grab the nearest piece of flat material to hand which, appropriately enough turns out to be an RSPCA leaflet. (It features a picture of a fluffy little kitten and the words “How Could They?”. I wonder if they would have as much concern if it was Cuthbert’s mug-shot on there). Anyway, I creep up on him and – GOT HIM. Slide the leaflet underneath. The only parts of him visible are his feelers desperately seeking some meaning to his new-found situation, But not to worry because the window is already open ready, and – yes – off he flits into the night. Phew!! Glad that’s over. I think if he returns, or any of his pals, I’ll concede defeat and give them free run of the establishment.
An egg (un ouef) for one day, je pense.
Sunday 19th March
The legendry Pink Pigeon of Mauritius
Almost a tinge of regret that “Cuthbert” hasn’t sneaked back in during the night. Almost. But not quite.
On the other hand, the presence, in isolated spots on the living room floor – and on the kitchen sink surround – of what I fear may be small rodent droppings brings back some of the old angst. Now I wonder about the wisdom of admitting to having seen the “device against rats” I blithely allowed to pass back to its rightful owner last week! I wonder if the Spar has them. I must look. It being Sunday, it may not be open. Never mind. Tomorrow will do.
I managed a real proper load of washing this morning. It’s just like being home. Well maybe not.
It’s a rather different kind of day today. Feels pleasant enough but the sky is distinctly overcast. Not actually raining though.
Now I think, despite Dharma’s assurances to the contrary, that those little wall-lizards really are geckos because I looked them up on the internet. They certainly have big bright eyes that remind me of a bush-baby’s – and that would fit. Geckos’ feet “stick” to surfaces by virtue of Van der Waals forces. Did you know that? Not suckers, like flies etc. Lots of tiny hairs under their feet. Imagine how many they’d need! To give you some idea of scale, I suppose the largest one I’ve seen is about 4 inches from head to tip of tail. So not exactly rivals to Godzilla! Never mind, if they keep the flies down they’re very welcome. To put your mind at ease, I have not so far encountered one in the bedroom. I keep that door shut at all times just in case, though. They probably don’t like the lower temperature in there anyway (due to the air con at night). [update on Wed 22nd: I did see one there. It also lives behind he curtain].
I think I’ll dub my little fellow in the kitchen “Gordon”: Gordon Gecko. Nice. In fact, here he is, taken the other evening:
"Gordon" the gecko
Sorry to keep boring on about the fauna. But it really is quite fascinating, and something you get no real sense of from the guide books and brochures. OK, done with it for now!
I intend to take a bus somewhere to try out the service. Not sure where, yet. Maybe wherever it goes! What does it matter? But tomorrow, it’s
Had lunch here – the rest of the brie with a baguette. Then struck out to find a bus. It costs Rs14 to the Flic en Flac Junction, amid the sugarcane, taking about 10 minutes. The Casela Nature and
Well, then a walk back up the road. Nay, it wasn’t all that obvious that it had been all downhill getting there. Well it was, I suppose, but I’d conveniently forgotten that! It was lucky that the day was overcast and probably the coolest it’s been up to now. Back here, shower and do a spot of reading. The pool is too jam-full.
Annoyingly, I lost a bit of the keyfob that the bungalow owner gave me. It’s one of those little AAA-powered lights – LED I guess. It didn’t work, but it was an easy identifier for the back door as opposed to the front door – very similar keys, you see. It must have dropped off somewhere en route to or from Casela. I’m not going to retrace my steps though! Just have to own up. Maybe I can find one that works in a shop somewhere and replace it for him. Trouble is, now I’m left with a nagging question: was there anything else also attached; something more valuable? Such as another key? I don’t think so, but...
The “young family” kicking the ball about yesterday are at it again today. With a vengeance. I can’t decide whether the little person is actually a kid or not. He looks as though he could be older, and possibly a thalidomide victim; and there are several teenaged lads. Between ‘em they’ve been giving the herbage a fair old bashing. Sometimes the ball comes frighteningly close to “my” very expensive-looking patio window. It’s precisely now that I begin to appreciate the solitude and peace of the previous week! I suppose they may just be here for the weekend? Please?
Almost have to spin a coin to decide where to have dinner this evening. Reckon I’ll just saunter down and see what takes my fancy – or what is open, more like.
It came down to “The Sea Breeze” for, I think, the fourth time. Never mind, their menu is man enough to stand it. Tonight I sampled their rum. It came with ice and lemon. Then I ordered the “Poisson Imperial” No, that’s not fish with a little round mint sweetie. The latter comes with the bill. It’s an impressive production in which fish, it has to be said, plays only a minor rôle. The cast of thousands includes champignons (mushrooms) and water chestnuts (I think). Accompanied by green vegetables (cabbage) in garlic and plain boiled rice. It would certainly merit an encore.
Since you’ve heard about it so many times, you might want to know what it looks like:
Inside "The Sea Breeze"
Sorry it’s a bit fuzzy. Still no Séga in evidence. It has to be because I’m not “living it up” like I’m supposed to now I’m off the leash for a while. But the fact is I’m too used to being tucked up and in the
The only trouble with “The Sea Breeze” is that the waiters prowl like examination invigilators. I start to panic in case they deem my effort unworthy of the requisite 40% (minimum) of what you ordered to be consumed, or else you’re out! Thankfully, I manage a heroic 100%. Then another beer. And an espresso. Should I be worried about this growing addiction to rum, beer and espresso? Yes, probably. But I’m not.
There’s a place up north near Grand Baie (according to the tourist map) called “Les Orchidées”. I feel a moral obligation to investigate that at some stage – for old time’s sake, and in honour of Thingy and Ingrid (short-term memory loss – now I AM frightened!), former proprietors of “The (The, note) Orchdéa” in Riva, N Italy, where we spent two very pleasant summer holidays a few years back.
I’m on the way back to the bungalow. The frogs are gigging at an incredible volume – and without the aid of a PA too! I think it is safe to say that I have never before, in my entire life, heard such an amphibious cacophony as this. I wonder how they know, in a tropical climate, that it’s the breeding season. I guess they just go for it full-time. Good on ‘em!
Well, I reckon I’m getting confident enough to strike out for THE CAPITAL tomorrow –
Night-night all.
[1] No, not as immortalised by Robert Johnson. “Crossroads”, for those who don’t know it, was a famous (infamous) English soap. RJ would turn in his grave if he ever found out. The series was eventually put out of its misery and laid to rest a couple of decades ago. RIP I say!
No comments:
Post a Comment