Monthly Archives: May 2008

Mauritius is a fair sized island in the Indian Ocean that is east and a couple clicks north of Madagascar.  Where the official language is English, yet everyone speaks French and hardly anyone speaks English.  Formerly part of the British Commonwealth, there doesn’t seem to be a lick of British culture left on the island save for some traffic circles, which by the way have traffic cops on the country’s only major highway.  Traffic circles apparently don’t work when you never have a break in traffic from one direction for an extended period of time.  According to our airport transfer driver, 10% of the Mauritius population commutes to the capital city of Port Louis on this major highway.  So basically, the highway is gridlock going south anytime after 12PM.  We stayed on the northern part of the island in the touristy area of Grand Bay.  Mauritius is like Hawaii divided by 100.  The major resorts are 2 or 3 stories, and there are only 5 of them in a row in the area we were.  There was one super market, a casino the size of a Rite Aid (that came equipped with dodge ‘em cars and bumper boats for the kids to play on, when combined was larger than the gaming room floor), a ton of restaurants and shops that sold Hollister paraphernalia at 5 times US prices. 

We stayed at a budget bungalow complex on the main road for a modest 25 Euro per night fee.  The airport transfer was more expensive.  The lovely lady who greeted us and showed us to the room went through the normal spiel and finally got to the “surrounding area” part of the routine.  All she said was, “the beach is that way, and the supermarket is the other way.”  Compared with everywhere else we’ve been, this was a delight.  It was nice not having to get a map and find directions everywhere we need to go.  Instead, we walk out of the hotel, turn left for 50 meters, and voila, we’re at the supermarket/casino/dodge ‘em cars.  The super market was not unlike any other. Except that the most popular item had to be the 400 gram, 11 Rupee freshly baked French bread (that’s just shy of a pound and less than 50 US cents and 4 adjectives).  We would see people carrying backpacks of the French bread rolls out of the store.  We purchased one daily. 

Our days were mostly lazy.  Explore a little the first few days, walk to the resorts and utilize their beaches and read or swim, hang out at the supermarket.  We wanted to try out our newly earned SCUBA licenses in Mauritius, but we succumbed to our frugality.  Anyway, we were bummed out about that.  So we just loafed some more. 

Our Doctor who administered our vaccines gave us a packet of weather reports for every country we were going. Mauritius in May was apparently a mild 26 degrees Celsius and only rained two days of the month.  We got three days in one week.  So that kind of spoiled the beach fun, which led us to watching the show Alias on the computer. 

The biggest challenge of all, which turned out to be fruitless, yet unnecessary was trying to pay for our hotel bill in Euros.  Our hotel owner insisted that we pay Euros for the weeklong stay.  She said that we could take Euros out of a nearby ATM or just exchange money.  The last thing we wanted was to pay huge premiums to exchange money.  So we searched for this elusive ATM, we saw one at the airport that had such a claim, but it was mislabeled, and it was already too late to go back.  The hotel owner had faulty intel on where the ATM machine was near us.  So we essentially put our ATM card into every machine in the area to no avail.  This whole operation was to save probably what amounted to 30 bucks.  We had not op tech to help us locate the cheapest Euros as the internet café was too pricey.  Our intelligence gathering was pretty weak as the banks barely spoke English and offered no help.  When we asked HSBC (who had the ATM at the airport with the supposed Euros), “Where do you have an ATM that dispenses Euros”, our response back was, “We sell Euros at 45 Rupees.”  So finally, we went back on the final day to pay and told her we’d like to pay in Rupees instead of Euros.  We were worried that she’d try to pull a fast one on us with a poor exchange rate, but she ended up giving us a more favorable exchange rate than the market.  High Five.   

Upon arrival to Johannesburg airport I was excited to reach my sixth continent, (and most likely last, as it’s doubtful I’ll make it to Antarctica) but my tiny bit of apprehension about the African continent unfortunately grew larger the further into the airport I got. When packing my checked luggage, I was aware of the bad reputation that the airport has for pilferage, though I assumed expensive things in designer luggage was targeted and my poor backpacker’s bag would be exempt (especially because I purposefully put the dirty laundry on top). However, the guy sitting next to me on the plane did not assuage any of my fears, as he told me a story about how the contents of a simple tin of chocolate, packed within a suitcase, fell victim to the baggage handlers.Already on edge, we proceeded to the immigration lines…basically in the dark. Later while picking up the rental car we found out that the power was out, which explained the very minimal lighting throughout the entire airport, but that certainly did not help my trepidation as I was waiting in long immigration lines and for my luggage. Knowing the reputation that the city of Johannesburg has, we drove straight out of the airport to the safer Pretoria area. After checking into the hostel, we asked the guy if it was ok if we parked out front. He told us we could leave the car there, but it would most likely be somewhere else in the morning. We moved the car to the secured lot. With that, it was the end of our first day in Africa.

The second day we ventured off on foot into the South African administrative capital of Pretoria.The city is a lot like Detroit; know the areas to stay away from and you’ll have no problems wandering around the rest of it. There isn’t a lot to see or do, but the government buildings were definitely impressive.

We took off for the Blyde River Canyon area, and following in suit of the rest of our outdoor pursuits, it rained and was generally overcast for most of the day. Nevertheless, we got a few decent, though still hazy pictures of the impressive canyon, and were on our way.

It was then time for my “Disneyworld” – Kruger National Park. You basically drive around the park on the paved or gravel roads keeping the camera in one hand and the binoculars in the other, with both eyes surveying the savannah and darting from tree to tree (and for Matt – the driver- occasionally on the road) hoping to spot animals. The roads can get kind of crowded with other vehicles, but it can work to your advantage; if a car is stopped, there might be something cool there, but if there are several cars stopped somewhere, there is definitely something worthwhile. It then becomes a game of jockeying for the best position to see the animals as they move around, for the most part unhindered by the cars or spectators.

I would have never expected that I would be so willing to go to bed by 9pm and wake up at 5am, but that had become my sleeping pattern to better view the game in the park, and was well worth it. Within the first two hours of entering the park, we saw giraffe, a lion, buffalo, wild dogs (a rarity in Southern Africa), and an elephant “that was not taking no prisoners” to quote one driver in the mix of cars in the grey giant’s path. The game viewing continued throughout the three days to include a pair of cheetahs making their way to a watering hole, several hyenas with full bellies from a night of scavenging, a large group of hippos bobbing up and down in the water, and the absolute highlight: a pride of 13 lions lazily enjoying the sunrise.

I am happy to report that my initial heightened safety fears weren’t necessarily warranted (at least thus far), but it was probably a good thing to put me on edge as I had become complacent after Rio. Still, I am disappointed that I still can’t escape Hollywood pop culture. The hostel only gets five channels; one of them manages to carry “The Biggest Loser”, or some other American show that I had not anticipated seeing while so far away. I must say that it is an improvement over Australia and New Zealand TV programming though. They show either the regular American shows(including, but not limited to: “American Idol” and endless reruns of “Friends”) or knock-off game shows of “Deal or No Deal”, or my personal favorite “The Farmer Wants a Wife” (based off of “The Bachelor” I’m guessing). I probably shouldn’t complain too much, as it is American movies, music, and TV encourages and/or teaches so many people English, which makes it infinitely easier to get around in non-English speaking countries. I suppose that once I get away from the first-world infrastructure of South Africa, a lot of the western influence will be lost and I will eat my words about wanting to experience other cultures as I’m stuck using squatty pottys.