It was still dark and the drizzle had turned to a strong, wetting rain when we arrived at 'our campement' and by now the wind had started to howl. The Mauritius roads are narrow and dark, especially the coastal roads, and we had to put our complete trust in our taxi driver hoping that he knew where he was going and hoping he would find the place from the address we had been given ie: "it's the third 'campement' next to this guest house", (I forget the name of the guest house). Mauritians are extremely relaxed about things and to me who is particularly organised, (to the point of being obsessed) I found it difficult to get into that way of being. But it's such a lovely and easy way of life that it didn't take me long to go along with it making me realise that I often get stressed for things that don't matter at all.
Our driver finally turned into a driveway where, on the porch, Jocelyne (our maid) and her husband were waiting for us. They were in a bit of a hurry to get home to their supper (most times rice and lentils or beans) as they'd been waiting for us for a while, so Jocelyne gave us a quick tour of the 'campement', showed us the kitchen and the pots of food that she had cooked for us, which looked so homely and welcoming and smelled so good, and then, showing us how to lock all the doors, she handed us the keys, said she'd be in the next morning, and off she and her husband went. They live just across the road from the 'campement', so it was not far for them to get home.
We were left standing in the middle of the large lounge/dining room with our suitcases and keys in our hand, and after a polite scramble to choose our rooms, we finally were able to take a deep breath and start relaxing and exploring. Tony and I chose the double room with en suite bathroom, overlooking the sea, and Cathy chose a single cosy room with a large desk and also a superb view of the beach and sea beyond. 
First things first, we were dying to tuck into a delicious rougail de saussices (sausage stew cooked in tomato, garlic and onion), Basmati rice and lentils cooked with onions, garlic and ginger, so Cathy quickly figured out the gas stove and after having lit it to start waming our food, we toured the 'campement'. We went outside in the rain and wind and we could hear the sea thrashing around but could hardly see it, just a few white crests, it was pitch black everywhere and we couldn't go far for fear of the unseen unknown. The salty, warm, wind and smells of the Mauritian sea and food, now wafting through, were indredibly familiar to me and they brought back instant memories of my first husband, Cyril, and our honeymoon and many visits to the island while we were together. For a while it all felt strange, sad and melancholic to be back. I stayed alone for a while letting these memories gently surround me, knowing that they lived in my heart.
Inside we laid the table and dished up our lovely food. The tastes were typically Creole Mauritian, hot, spicy, aromatic, and we felt happy and excited at the prospect of waking up in the morning to an unknown view and falling asleep listening to the wind and the sea so close by, sounding as if it were right outside our window. We had bought a bottle of wine at the Jo'burg airport and we opened it to celebrate our first evening of what was going to be an unforgettable holiday. This is a moment I could relive very easily. (Merci Monica).
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