Four Hours

This story starts while leaving Cape Town.

If you know any history about the Cape of Good Hope, you’d remember that it was known as such because of the rough water around it.  It has been warned by many seasoned voyagers that the sailing will be roughest around the southern tip of Africa.  I can only speak for myself, but I didn’t seem to mind it too much.  It was slightly unpleasant, but I can safely assume that I’ve successfully acquired my sea legs.

To make the waters worse, though, we were sailing through a storm.  For safety’s sake, we had to maneuver around it and slow down significantly.  As a result, we began to fall behind schedule.  A few days before we were slated to get to Port Louis, the deep baritone of Stuart Saunders, the Assistant Dean, came on the loud speaker and gave us the news: We would not be getting off in Mauritius.

Because the ship was running so far behind, we would be getting into Mauritius nearly a day late.  Since we were only slated to be in Mauritius for a single day, we would be arriving after the time we were expected to leave.  We were told that we would dock in Port Louis where we’d have the chance to refuel and immediately get back on the road (or the sea, shall I say) in order to avoid being late to India.

The situation was slightly bittersweet; I was sad I was missing out on an entire port, but I was okay with not being late to India.  Some other students were a lot more vocal about their dismay.  Nonetheless, we were bracing ourselves for a horrible week-and-a-half at sea.  The administration tried to appease us students by hosting a huge dance party on the pool deck and give us brunch on the day we were supposed to be in Mauritius.

Then, Stuart’s voice came on the loud speaker with more news.

He alerted us that after a lot of hard work and deliberation, we would be able to stay in Mauritius for a bit longer and that we would be allowed to get off the ship... for four hours.  From 8AM-12noon a day after we were supposed to be there, we would be frolicking this small island famous for having a very quiet and peaceful syncretic culture and being the homeland of the extinct dodo bird.

So bright and early, we went through face-to-face immigration checks and were released into port.  I felt like Cinderella.  Instead of going to a beach, which are apparently some of the best in the world, I decided to trek around the city in search of a more cultural experience rather than tanning and getting drunk like most other SAS-ers did.

Hayden Ford and I formed a pretty dynamic duo of eating machines.  We made it to the market which was scarcely open by the time we got there.  In the span of the four hours, we ate about three times, much of those things which were somewhat similar to us in different forms.  We had these floury, lightly fried flatbreads folded like soft-shelled tacos filled with different beans and curry sauces.  I ate several of these several different times.  Hayden had a slightly different variation with chicken wrapped in another kind of flatbread, and wrapped sort of like a burrito.  We had a thick and sweet milkshake drink with ice cream, tiny tapioca balls, and who knows what else.  We even sat in a makeshift dining room of one of these stalls where my sweat dripped with such vigor that it fell in globs as a woman fried up her goods directly behind us.  Other than the food, I bought a bunch of hilarious and embarrassing souvenirs including a hideous purse for my mother, a huge pink floppy hat for the Sea Olympics coming up soon, and a shirt with a cartoon of dodo birds in different sexual positions.  My favorite purchase, by far, was a $3 set of 10 bags full of colored powder for the Hindi festival of Holi for which we were to early in Mauritius and too late in India.

Unfortunately, my camera was acting funky, and the lens was being a little testy, so I wasn’t able to take very many pictures of either the scenery or the ground of my feet.  Instead, I tried to experience things with my eyes without a camera blocking my view.  I was able to look more like a normal citizen as opposed to an obvious visitor.  Though I’m sure I still had the word “tourist” emblazoned on my chest, some people weren’t so sure.  Some people even asked whether or not I was Mauritian.

Mauritius has an interesting history full of conquest of different colonial powers who brought in a bunch of people of different ethnicities who are now living together in harmony.  We can’t forget that Mauritius is, in fact, an African nation, but it is definitely a lot more well off than most.  There is a pretty blatant South Asian population, much of whom are Hindu, but there is a significant East and Southeast Asian population from places like China and Malaysia.  Then there’s also the Black African population on the island.  The best part is that all of these people come together and speak a funky French creole that reflects all of their backgrounds.

I wish I had more than just four hours in this tiny little gem in the Indian Ocean.  I’m glad we got to stop there, even if it was for a very, very brief time.  It was somewhat of an “India on training wheels,” and I cannot even contain my excitement for when I arrive in Cochin in just a few days.  This will be one hell of a ride.