Mauritan Mystery

     There’s a quote by Mark Twain that goes something like this, “There was Mauritius, and then Heaven was built after Mauritius”.  Sorry if I butchered that but you get the idea-my point is, Mark Twain was right.
     With only two days to spend in Mauritius we had to do all that we could to soak up this paradise in the little time that we had.  So we went to the beach.  Tough life-I know.  But seriously, these were the most GORGEOUS beaches I have ever seen.  I can’t wait to get my photos up because Mauritius is just the perfect backdrop to anything.  The sky is bright and knows just the right time to change colors, the sand is light and fluffy, and the water is the most perfect water I have ever been in in my life.  I am an ocean girl so I hopped into the water with Bailey, Maria, and Mary and we all agreed that we would not want it any other way.  I think even my mom would have liked the temperature of this water. I can’t get over it. Moving on…
     After a few hours of blissful beach time and vanilla rum, Bailey, James, and I decided to head to our friends hotel room and see if we could crash there for the night since we were all leaving together in the morning for a catamaran ride.  Unfortunately it was not that easy.  We got caught up helping a friend, we lost another friend, James had become belligerently British, and we were hungry and ready to go.  Finally with some help from these guys from Denmark that James had found by wandering into their front lawn, we got dinner, which led to taxi driver, which led to madness.
     Apparently Mauritian hotels are strict with their policies and don’t want dumb college students like us to come wander in and mess up their lives.  Understandable. But also inconvenient.  When we showed up to the hotel where our friends were staying we were told they left.  We went to another hotel. We got on a phone. We were told to pay three hundred and fifty euros for a stay at this hotel. We didn’t.  We went back to the first hotel. Next door-public beach. Found our friends.  Since the hotel is so strict they would only let four people stay in the room like they had signed up for and would not even let anyone else past the security guard in the hotel parking lot.
     It is about midnight now and we have been wandering around this public beach for an hour.  I am stone cold sober and fed up with the security guard and the uncertainty of sleeping arrangements.  I get cranky without anywhere to sleep and Bailey was dehydrated. Thus began the hunt for water.
     Nothing is open.  There is nothing nearby.  But there is a police station across the street from the beach so Bailey goes to ask if they know a place where she can get some water.  The police officer doesn’t know.  Fail.  BUT, five minutes later he walks up to us and says, “I can wake my driver if you’d like. We’ll take you to get some water”.  Hmm…the police are supposed to be the good guys.  So we take off, giving our friends very little explanation to what is going on, and get into the Mauritian police pick up truck with grates on the windows.
     We start speeding away.  This guy was a very good driver, we felt safe, but it was fast. We go to one store, closed. Another, closed.  The cop and his driver are speaking a language we don’t understand.  We drive a little further and we are at a casino.  Oookayyy. So we go inside where there are a few straggling Mauritians at slot machines and card tables and a man from the bar hands me an empty water bottle and directs us to a water jug.  Score-free water. So we get our water and we are relieved.  The police officer looks at me and says, “Are you worried?” “No, no, just tired”-I was a little worried but I tried to keep it under control. He said, “I will tell you one thing, you are in good hands,” then, “do you mind if I have a drink? I’ll meet you guys in the car with the driver.” Ha. Okay.
     So we’re sitting with the driver and we explain that we don’t have anywhere to stay tonight.  He calls a buddy of his who works as a security guard for a hotel, which he calls bungalows, but I call dirty hotel (well at least later I did). So we drive to this “bungalow” which is about one hundred meters away from the beach where our friends are homeless-we laugh about that.  We get a room for fifteen dollars.  Suckers.  But before we leave the cop says, “I need to tell you girls, you are in good hands,” (for some reason this is creepy), “You are in good hands. Now if you need anything you call us,” (he gives us the number to the police station and the driver’s cell phone number), “And the police station is right over there.  I’ll tell you one thing, you are in good hands,” (AGAIN), “We wanted to show you Mauritius and represent our country, but everything that happened tonight must be kept secret,” (so I’m blogging about it now haha).  This was a creepy speech.  We just wanted to get out of the car, say thanks, and go.  And eventually we did after our secret lecture and after we were escorted by the driver to our room and made sure our key worked.  Weird and nice.  The bungalow was grungy-there was hair in the sink drain and an opened bar of soap already waiting for us—we didn’t use it.  But we ignored the dirt and hit the hay; and we were the best rested of all of our friends the next morning for our catamaran ride.
     The catamaran was amazing and like I said before the beaches were phenomenal.  But my favorite part of those two days was our adventure with the Mauritian police.  Sorry I told.