Beaches & Villas, Mauritius

Mauritius is not a place we knew much about, so arriving here was an exciting experience. Our only concern was that after having a week to take in Cape Town, we felt that two days in Mauritius would be way too short. I imagine that the brief stay was strategic for Semester at Sea. The organization seems to view Mauritius as a spring break stop for the students, and while a bit of a vacation seems to do the students good, too much time in Mauritius in the past has been a bad thing. We heard stories of SAS students being banned from hotels and beaches after rock star-like, property-destroying binge parties.

Our friend organized two reasonably priced villas for 11 of us to stay. The first day, we went to the beach and snorkeled from a glass bottom boat. The fish were colorful and abundant. We ate lunch at a café with a patio overlooking the water. The café’s menu had an unfamiliar item on it and it read: “American sandwich (Chicken sausage…).” The “…” made me (being Chris) curious so I asked the waiter what was in this American. He had a difficult time describing it: “You know, a sandwich… Bread, cheese……… Bread,” he said. Why I decided to order it after such a detailed description I don’t know, but I went with it. The American arrived some five minutes after everyone else had received their food. Once busy with chatter and laughter—the mundane pleasure of thoroughly safe sandwiches being endured—the table now fell silent. A large plate. Green salad. French fries. These flanked a sandwich so beautiful, yet equally so grotesque.

Defying the laws of the universe, the sandwich sat remarkably upright. A big, toasted baguette housed, from the bottom up, a layer of lettuce, a layer of shredded carrots, two extra long chicken hot dogs stacked upon one another, and finally the unidentifiable, the unspeakable: a thick white sauce that—sensible only on some alien world—was baked to crunchiness on the top, mashed potato-like in the middle, and runny at its base. (If you are reading this Jason Schneiderman, can you ever forgive me for giving you this visual?!)

Always with a big smile and what seemed to be a genuine sense of curiosity, the waiter asked me several times how I was enjoying the sandwich. It seemed like he was taking an extra interest in the American with the American. I am convinced that the following happened: Shocked that someone had ordered the American (something no one had done in this sleepy beach town since Bob Blanston of Piqua, Ohio nearly a decade ago), the waiter, barely containing his dismay, arrived at the kitchen in a state of panic. Knowing that an American customer was expecting—in a single culinary event—a convincing representation of American sensibilities—political, cultural, landscape, etc—the kitchen staff made their best effort at constructing “an American.” We are posting a picture of the sandwich here—let us know your thoughts.

Our stay in the villa was a lot of fun and we got to know our coworkers a lot better. Some bought an incredible amount of funky Mauritian snack foods and when combined with rum and orange-flavored beer, we had a party to rival any SAS students. We stayed up late playing games with our friend topping off the evening by diving into the pool in his underwear.



The last day, we returned to the capitol, Port Louis, to explore the small downtown area. Mauritius felt every bit as ethnically diverse as South Africa, too, with Mauritians of Indian, African, Chinese, and French descent all living together on a pretty small area of land. The Port Louis skyline has a very polished, cosmopolitan appearance. Yet in-between the tall buildings and away from the pedestrian area of the harbor is a congested, trash-strewn grid of streets where people with suits walk among homeless people rummaging through garbage piles. Other sights and smells were also sometimes decidedly Southern slum: we passed a gnawed calf’s skull, still pink with some flesh on the sidewalk and other rank masses of mysterious trash. A highlight was walking through a small door in an unassuming building into a warehouse-sized, crowded food market that had an astonishing array of colorful fruits and vegetables. We said goodbye to Mauritius that evening, knowing that in seven days we’d be in a different world once again.