ALMOST A BRIDE (Open On Annie)

4

The journey from the airport to the resort is only about an hour. A pleasant drive; an air-conditioned, nice smelling, spacious car driven by an attentive- and most importantly- silent driver. His much-appreciated silence gave me the opportunity to take in the lay of the land.

Mauritius is beautiful. Exquisite even. The airport is situated in a town close to Grand Baie, a busting metropolis of new shopping centers, huge shinny buildings and plenty of construction. I wasn't really expecting that and was surprised when I drove past a few clothing stores that looked like they were worthy of further investigation. The interior of the island is comprised mainly of huge- as far as the eye can see- fields of bright green sugar cane. In places, the sugar cane stretches for miles and miles, and the only thing breaking the flat, green monotonous horizon are the large jagged mountains that rise up straight out of the earth.

Wide-open spaces are punctuated by small roadside towns; an eclectic mix of old and new. Street markets selling pineapples and coconuts are located next to a MacDonalds's, an interesting blend of old architecture next to modern buildings. We eventually headed in the direction of the coast, and I finally got my first real glimpse of the sea.

The bluest sea I'd ever seen.

It was a brilliant turquoise, surrounded by huge white beaches, which were dotted with palm trees and what looked like some kind of small pine tree. It was unusual to see white beaches lined with small clumps of trees that created little forests. Beautiful, and all I could think of was sitting under one and looking out onto the beach.

I arrived at my resort- La Trou aux Biches- around midday. I wont even go about trying to pronounce that name out loud, my French is very rusty and the first time I attempted it, the last word came out as 'Bitches'. And I'm pretty sure that is not the intended pronunciation, considering the way the customs officer glared at me after asking, "What my destination was?"

But the question of how to say it, really didn't matter once you're inside the thing of tropical beauty. The reception is grand, triple volume ceilings rise up, giving the feeling of ultimate space and freedom. The floor is made entirely of white beach sand with actual palms planted in it. 

It's also surrounded by a small moat of water, and to get to the rest of the hotel, you have to cross a small bridge. Once across the bridge I found myself in a thick, dense tropical garden. Several paths cut their way through the flora, dotted with signs that read Pool, Spa, Salon, Shop, Tennis Court. I had a feeling that the Spa would become one of my regular stomping grounds. I followed the concierge through the garden; the colors around me were intense; bright pink flowers popped out from behind the lush leaves.  Huge palm trees rose up, heavy with an abundance of coconuts. 

My room was located on the ground floor, only about fifty meters from the beach. I stood there for a moment, as the concierge fiddled with the keys and took it all in. The sea was dead calm, as still as bath water and probably the same color. In parts it was completely transparent, creating the illusion of boats that seemed to float in mid air. The water looked shallow, and I imagined that you could probably walk all the way to the distant reef where the sea became a dark sapphire color. The beach was scattered with deliciously inviting looking loungers, positioned under umbrellas made of dried palm leaves. People were lying like lizards in the sun, whilst others bobbed up and down idly in the water. It was picture perfect. A post card depicting the very best of lazy, hot holiday relaxation.