Classic Travel Adventures

Mmmarvellous Mauritius

...a wondrous sight, all those scarlet saris, people wading out in the water, blue-grey incense swirling, coconut and banana and floral offerings, ringing of bells and priestly chantings and monkeys scampering about...

Sun and sand...perfection

Pity the poor Dodo. He had it made on the lush tropical island in the Indian Ocean they call Maurice and we call Mauritius but he ended up in Dutch cook pots. Had his species survived, he would have been amazed to see what has happened to his domain. But extinct is, unfortunately, extinct. How much richer the world would be if this ungainly, flightless and slightly dotty bird was still here, waddling about under the coconut palms.

Canefields rise to greet your landing aircraft

It’s an island and an environment he would scarcely recognize. The dense scrub that once covered the island is now an emerald green patchwork quilt of sugar cane, stretching from one end of Mauritius to the other, punctuated here and there by volcanic peaks that stretch skywards. The dark volcanic soil supports the cane and a cornucopia of vegetables and fruits, sustaining a society that lives well on what it produces. And the island’s coastline is a tourist paradise; turquoise water is fringed with foaming white reefs (listen to the distant boom-boom-boom as the ocean crashes in) and its beaches beckon with soft white sand, perfect for toe-wiggling or shell-searching.

Volcanic peaks and water, water everywhere! Dive in!

Arab traders (and pirates) were here centuries ago, but later, in the 16th century, the Portuguese and then the Dutch increasingly utilized the island as a stopover en route to the Indies. It was during this time that the trusting Dodo was slaughtered and the island’s rich stands of ebony plundered.

And then came the French, who left their language, the legal Code Napoléon and much of their culture. The British, always on the lookout for fresh Imperial territory, kicked out the French but allowed the inhabitants to continue speaking French —you hear it and its Creole adaptation almost exclusively here, although English is the official language. Finally, in 1968, Mauritius became a republic within the Commonwealth. It’s 1,865 square km in size and has a population of just over a million.

The Dodo would also be quite surprised at the towns and villages here. Port Louis is the capital; its white and silver towers stand tall against the large green hill that backs it. The world’s oldest horse race track is here, along with mosques and Hindu temples and teeming markets and sophisticated shopping centres. There are three or four sizeable towns on the island, and a network of single lane roads that crisscross the land. Small villages hug these roads at regular intervals. I was reminded, as I drove around, of Jamaica—with Dar es Salaam accents. Perhaps it was the ubiquitous Indian architecture I saw on my travels that reminded me of Dar — those two storey concrete slab houses, with flat roofs, pillared balconies and concrete gingerbread decoration. You see them everywhere inland, in various states of repair, paint-bright or delapidated. You see, too, twin red triangular banners within the front yards of most of these houses, identifying the residents as religious Hindus. In the southwest, on the hills, you see handsome contemporary residences with sea views, in flower filled gardens—the homes of wealthy Franco-Mauritians. It’s an interesting mix and a reminder of the income disparity here. But even the poorest islander is relaxed, welcoming and ever-smiling. There appears to be little resentment in this paradise, cooled by the trade winds and warmed by the sun. And, I am assured by Tourism Mauritius, very little violent crime. It’s a safe place to be.

I’d arrived here after a smooth non-stop flight from Sydney aboard an Air Mauritius Airbus A340, which offers, I discovered to my pleasure, Economy seating rivalling Business seating for space and legroom and comfort. With routes out of Mauritius to Africa and Europe, I wondered why more people don’t use this island as a gateway to the rest of the world, rather than the usual Singapore or Dubai stopovers—a thought that keeps returning after my stay and my discovery of the island’s many charms.

First stop, after an hour along tree-shaded roads, was One&Only Le Touessrok, on the island’s east coast, about halfway up. The resort’s GM, Hector de Galard, greeted me not long after my arrival and we had dinner in one of the resort’s three superb restaurants—Safran—famed for its impeccable Indian cuisine. Hector told me that attention to detail is key to the resort’s success. And attention to detail was what I found, everywhere—the brass gong that announced my arrival, the scoop of mango sorbet I was given as soon as I entered the lobby, the chilled and scented face cloth that arrived whenever I seemed to need it, the handsome staff uniforms (on equally handsome staff) in shades of cinnamon and lime, the spectacular floral arrangements, the hard-milled soap shaped like a local shell in my bathroom, the man who greeted me and polished my dark glasses without my having to ask—everything here is perfection. Eight hundred people work at Le Touessrok—two hundred in the gardens alone—pruning and polishing and puree-ing. It’s an amazing place.

Le Touessrok: deluxe pool, beachside villas

Attention to detail is equally evident in the multi-level architectural environment, designed by Mauritian and South African architects to complement the site, which is backed on both sides by water. Great timbered arches thatched with cane leaves enhance lobbies and restaurants, bridges lead to pools that embrace manicured gardens and, at night, gas-fired torches flicker and flare near volcanic stone walls, under banks of fragrant frangipani and rustling coconut palms. Interiors—fabrics, textures, mosaics, lighting and lots of wicker— provide a cool counterpoint to the exterior’s almost operatic drama.

I enjoyed breakfast from a sumptuous buffet (lots of delicious breads, thanks to the French heritage here) serenaded by tiny twittering birds, which occasionally hopped onto my table, examining me with beady eyes and (successfully) coaxing crumbs. I swam, lazed, sniffed perfumed air, luxuriated in this utterly relaxing place. There’s a championship golf course on a private island close by, designed by Bernhard Langer and lushly landscaped—with an occasional scurrying mongoose to divert you. There’s another private island here, Mangénie, which offers white sand and oh-so-gentle waves—and rum concoctions created by a gentleman called Friday. As the old saying goes, if you’re thirsty here (you can eat barbecue too, if you’re hungry) “Thank God it’s Friday!” Try his lemon-rum-brown-sugar and crushed ice special.

There are many hotels and guest- houses in Mauritius, catering to all budgets. They are mostly on the coast, because visitors come here for sand and water. But they come for the sights, too. The view to the water-filled mouth of an ancient volcano. The great botanical garden at Pamplemousses in the north-west, renowned for its pond filled with giant lily pads, the species Victoria amazonia. The classic colonial mansions. The amazing coloured remnants of lava flow—rolling mounds of pink, bronze, tan, purple and other hues. The shimmering waterfall close by that plunges 100 metres to the rocky floor below. There are fishing villages, rugged coastal cliffs in the far south, and lots more if you have time.

The lily pads at Pamplemousses garden are world famous

But, whatever else you do, be sure to visit Grand Bassin, the sacred lake, down near the waterfall. Water was brought here over a century ago because the local Hindus (today they comprise about 52% of the population) found it difficult to get back to India for ritual cleansing ceremonies in the famous old river there. Today, many Mauritians of that faith make pilgrimages to the lake, to make offerings to deities in the temple and in the lake itself—a wondrous sight, all those scarlet saris, people wading out in the water, blue-grey incense swirling, coconut and banana and floral offerings, ringing of bells and priestly chantings and monkeys (there are thousands on the island, but mostly hidden in forested areas) scampering about. Take your camera.

Colourful Hindu ritual at Grand Bassin

Now it was time for me to discover One&Only Le Saint Géran, about twenty minutes up the coast from Le Tessourok. The latter is newer, its $50 million makeover completed not all that long ago. Le Saint Géran is, however, a local legend, straddling a point of land and like its sister, has water on both sides—a beach on one side and a bay on the other. The resort follows the slim peninsula’s curve, its two accommodation wings, like slabs of white ice-cream, separated by a tropical garden. Each wing has its own special water view—beach or bay. That central garden is special because its long pond has both fish and birds—ducks and white swans, white ibis with large red bills and king of the lake, a handsome Crested Crane which preens when you pass by, does a little dance, flaps its wings and strikes poses. It’s gorgeous. You’ll love it.

Le Saint Géran: white sand and blue water, a bird that rules the roost, handsome lobby

You enter Le Touessrok past a massive banyan tree hung with birdcages, which light up at night. You enter Le Saint Géran past swaying palms, through 5 metre high doors into a massive marble-floored lobby like some fantasy tropical cathedral. A waterfall splashes over rocks just outside and its stream flows on and under the lobby to the pond beyond. Here you are in an oasis of serenity, with the blue of the sea just beyond the lobby and blue pools around to your right circling a restaurant. And at both resorts, the food is superb; on my last night, sitting by the pool, I ordered Spit-Roasted Duck with Passionfruit Sauce— a subtly sensuous flavour I’ll remember forever.

At both resorts, the visitor has plenty to do—or not do, depending on your preference. If you have children with you, there’s a special place for them (and babysitters, too). There’s archery, tennis, golf, a luxurious Givenchy Spa for facials and massage and more, lots of water activities and if you just want to sit on the beach, that’s fine, too.

I asked Exec Assistant Manager Glenn Hossen about his own priorities. “Communication is very important” he said. The kind of communication he’s talking about is evident on a minute-to-minute basis. The staff call you by name, they know what you are planning, they anticipate your every wish. You are looked after with care you scarcely believe possible. Small wonder most of the people I met here were repeat visitors. Some come back year after year. Prince William has visited twice. John Travolta flew in on his own jet. Both John and William were guests at this resort’s private villa, which has its own staff, butler and chef. At Le Touessrok, they have just completed a small complex of exclusive private villas and the first guests (Russians) I’m sure had a perfect holiday away from the snow.

No villa for me. I was happy in my beautifully appointed Junior Suite which faced the Indian Ocean and caught the sea breezes. A dip in that inviting water was always just moments away. But beware the sun here— it’s stronger than you think.

So maybe now you’ll understand my thoughts about this “other” tropical gateway to Europe next time a trip is being planned. A smooth jet hop across the ocean, a few days in this friendly and hospitable island, a rum or two out at Friday’s hideaway, and on you go, refreshed and relaxed.