
I set off this morning all excited to have the car to myself. I was planning to visit a family friend / potential client's ONG / NGO called 'Friends in Hope'.
First stop was the supermarket and on the way back to drop my mum home before setting off, I parked on a grass verge and didn't see a low-lying root (my mother warned me about those!). As I reversed, I heard a grating sound. We got out to look and somehow the tree root had hooked onto the front bumper of the car and pulled it off a bit so that it was hanging loose!
Anyway, the car's in the panelbeaters now (thank goodness not hugely expensive) and I've had to postpone the visit to the NGO till next week.
So I had to make do with a turquoise sea and dreamy blue sky and sun on my skin... quite a compromise!
Yesterday mum and I drove along the south-west coast (Tony didn't feel like coming so he stayed home) to visit my aunt and uncle (Solange and Jimmy).
It was a lovely drive along a small coastal road that passed through villages with evocative names like Souillac, Riviere des Anguilles (river of eels), Bel Ombre (beautiful shade), Petite Riviere Noire (small black river) ...
We saw yellow mongrels (all stray dogs in Mauritius seem to be this colour, probably due to interbreeding) strolling jauntily across the road in front of our car; a pair of old men sitting on their porch watching life pass by; a scrawny little boy rubbing his head and crying because his older brother had just hit him; and sugar cane labourers in knee-high boots and grimy clothes stopping for a lunch break, eating rice out of steel tins.
We drove over a bridge and stopped to watch a group of Indian women in sari-splashes of reds, oranges and pink doing their washing on the rocks along the river, with a chorus of frogs providing the soundtrack. We took a photo (a bit shame-facedly 'cos it always feels really touristy...). As we got in the car to set off again, a tall slim woman who was walking up the river slope, balancing a basket of wet washing on her head, gave us a smile and a wave.
Then we stopped in another little village and I jumped out to buy 2 faratas (Indian pancake filled with dhal lentils and a bit of chilli) from a vendor who was selling them from a small cart on wheels on the side of the road. We stopped outside the village, on another bridge overlooking a gorge, and sank our teeth into the warm, fresh dough with a bite on the inside. I can still taste them in my mouth!
Got to our family, feeling quite smug at having found our way and had a lovely afternoon of chatting, laughing, lazy silences and good food. We had vindaille (fish in a curry sauce, served cold), rice and beans, followed by a dessert of puits d'amour (wells of love - delicious custard tartlets. How could they be anything but delicious with a name like that.)
Also learnt a lovely phrase from my aunt - she was saying how she gets on particularly well with one member of the family. She described it as 'On a les atomes crochues' (our atoms are hooked). I thought it's such a lovely way of describing having that feeling of connection and affinity with someone.
So I'm gonna sign off now...
Wishing you lots of atomes crochues with those in your life.