L'Ile Rodrigues, Mauritius.

Thursday 12^th September, L'Ile Rodrigues, Mauritius.

We made it! We arrived on Monday morning, wiggled our way through the channel in the surrounding coral reef and tied up at a great big dirty dock at the distinctly deserted commercial port. What a sleepy little town, we thought. Later we realised we'd arrived on a special public holiday for the Pope's visit. So we sat aboard (not allowed leave the port until all formalities have been completed) waiting for all the necessary officials to be rudely recalled from their day off while listening to the Pope's arrival on the local (in French! So exotic.) radio station. 

Grainne at the dock and the port to ourselves.

Eventually a lovely health officer came aboard to confirm neither of us were dying or infectious. Then he walked us down to the immigration officer in his little office at the port. Then we went back to the boat to wait for the two lovely police/coastguard officers who came to do their share of the paperwork mountain. They let us know about the island “fugitive”. “Don't worry” they said, “he's not dangerous, just letting you know, check that he doesn't stow away with you when you leave, you can see his photo posted at the office.” We did check out his wanted poster – turns out he's wanted for meurtre. So a completely non-dangerous, nothing to be worried about potential stowaway murderer. The consensus among the various officials was that they really doubted if Customs would show up that day so we should probably just get on with visiting the town and expect the customs officer the next day. We then experienced something I haven't seen in years – a proper public holiday. Everything, I mean absolutely everything, was closed. 

Not a hint that anyone was even thinking about doing any work. In fact there wasn't much evidence that people even lived here. In retrospect this was a very good gentle introduction back to civilisation and we would have been overwhelmed had we arrived to the bustle of a working day first up.

Tuesday morning the customs officer arrived as predicted and won the paperwork war hands down – I completely lost track of how many forms I signed. But he clearly wasn't worried that my one remaining potato represented any sort of import business. He was also the only official to ask the magic question: “do you have a boat stamp?” (see Eddie Izzard's “Do you have a flag?” routine) – why, yes, we do! So our official Grainne Mhaol official stamp of officialness got its first workout. Immensely satisfying. Then the port officer arrived to break the bad news that the supply ship was due and we would have to move out of the port during its arrival. “When's it due?”, I asked. “Today” he said gazing wistfully at the horizon, “but”, and shrugged his shoulders. Right so, that's cleared that up. Our number one task for the day was paying the clearance fee which involved ferrying bits of appropriately stamped paper back and over between different offices around town. 

A purposeful, yet ultimately futile, approach to the administration building of the Regional Assembly. 

We failed of course because something like that is always going to take at least a couple of attempts. As we were leaving the port what seemed like the entire workforce were hurriedly marching towards us saying “The ship is coming, the ship is coming” and urging us to move our boat out of the way. So we pottered out of the port, anchored, watched the ship come in, had lunch, and pottered back to anchor just offshore.

Now, by the end of Tuesday I wasn't entirely sure if I liked Rodrigues and started recalculating how much time I might want to spend here. We had failed to pay the clearance fee, abandoned the world's slowest moving queue at the mobile phone shop (we're like a couple of gen Ys desperate for our internet fix), failed to find anywhere open to eat outside of lunchtime and dinnertime and completely failed to find a bar! And I wasn't sure about the locals either, they didn't seem overtly friendly. But things picked up yesterday and I do really like this place. 

So yesterday we finally managed to pay the clearance fee (which involved a missing stamp on a piece of paper and a major search for a missing health official, who in the end tracked us down while we were trying to buy apples at the market), we found an exciting array of fresh fruit and veggies at the market (fresh mint and coriander!), we outwaited the wait at the mobile phone shop and acquired a SIM card, we ate lunch at lunchtime so there were places open and.....we found a bar! 

Karl manages to force the cashier to take money and stamp a bit of paper.

A bottle of the local Mauritian Phoenix beer. This is also the place to get some of the local dry cured sausage (pork, slightly sweet) in a freshly baked baguette. Yum. 

Fruit and veg heaven at the market.

And it turns out Rodrigans are really nice, just a bit quiet/reserved towards strangers. The port officer introduced us to a security lady at the port storage facility who will do our laundry. Big win. And between all the officials we've met and all the people we shared the mobile phone queue with we seem to know half the town already. And the Finnish boat, Sissi, arrived so we have tourist friends.

The vibe here is interesting. I think there's a definite African influence (never having been to Africa I can't be sure), a little bit of French influence mainly language and bakerywise and a general non-European chaotic bustle. 

Making my way back from the market.

Police band at an anti-drug demonstration.

Population is about 40, 000 so it's a reasonable size. It has that definite remote island feel – the supermarket shelves were noticeably emptying the day before the supply ship arrived and stocked full the day after. Apparently back in the 50s Rodrigans voted 90% against leaving the British Empire but were chucked out anyway and made part of Mauritius.

So the plan from here is to hire a scooter and get out and see the rest of the island before leaving at the weekend. And listen to more Cool FM (or Cul FM?) to magic up some fluency in French.

Sunday 15^th September

We've had a busy couple of days in full on tourist mode aboard a scooter. We have literally driven every road on the island. It's a lovely island, hilly in the middle with a distinctly chilly micro-climate at the top, beaches and coral reef around the outside, dotted with little villages, modest houses with veggie gardens, goats, sheep, chickens and the occasional cow. Very rural, very quiet, very green. Fishing boats around the coast. 

Trying to find the highest point on the island - tourist signpost aren't their forte.

View from the top. You can actually see the entire island and coast from here.

 Particularly flowery graveyards.

 Picnic lunch with a chicken.

 A local working on his boat with Grainne (and Sissi) in the background.

Rodrigan cowboy herds goats.

Karl of course insisted we visit the cathedral – the largest in the Indian Ocean apparently, which is up there with Australia's tendency to claim biggest southern hemisphere things. 

Not sure about the historical accuracy of the dude with the hat.

We also hit the big tourist draw – the giant turtle reserve. Rodrigues did have its own species of giant turtle which became extinct because sailors (I started to feel a little guilty at this point in the tour) found its combination of tastiness and ease of catching irresistible. You can see their point in fairness, easier than fishing or hunting things that run. 

Anyway, the turtle reserve was really really cool. 

 I wasn't really sure how close I should get.

Karl meets Antoine who is 91 years old.

They have species from Madagascar and the Seychelles, the oldest is 100 and something years old. And there was an interesting cave to visit there too. We've been popping into some of the fancy resort hotels at lunchtimes – to gain a greater cultural understanding of the local tourism industry obviously. 

Including a study of their cocktails. 

Compare and contrast the local lemon cocktail with a traditional margarita.

Most of the tourists here are from L'Ile Maurice with some from Reunion so not particularly an international destination yet. Kite surfing and diving seem to be big draws.

We've returned to the commercial dock after the supply ship left so now we can just step ashore anytime we want. 

Bye bye ship.

We have our private security guard back. And now we're just hanging around waiting for enough wind to get us to L'Ile Maurice. Hopefully this will happen on Thursday. Until then we'll just be hanging out here, with the port cat and our dog-friend.