Old Dogs

Out and About

As good as any rural road through France, I'd say

Interesting day today, as after two weeks and a day I decided that it was time for an exploratory adventure. Most people go on holiday for a maximum of two weeks and consequently do the whole deal in that time, and here am I, just now, heading out for my first official tour. Did Port Louis and a bit more, but then there was always an ulterior motive. My objective today was, to at least get close to that mountain I keep on seeing, the one with the huge boulder perched on top. Don't know yet the story, but believe it must have one... There's got to be a Hindu God involved there somehow? Maybe Hannuman  threw a rock three times around the planet to knock the Elephant off the Turtle's back (courtesy off Terry Pratchitt. Don't sue please ), or something equally dramatic. I will monitor the situation...

We'll see how it looks in six months or so,

 when it's all painted up

A day out sitting beside the road

My objective, when exploring, is to decide on a direction, and then take whatever road seems to head that way. Sometimes it might peter out or veer away from the intended path, but whatever, as sometimes you need to get lost in order to find out where you're going (another mantra of mine). But here, on the island, you're never going to be too far off track. This time, half an hour due South, and about to start the climb up in to the hills, I come across a temple, only partially constructed, and set out in a field on it's own. What I found interesting was the multitude of images on the dome and where they had been fabricated? I've seen a million temples in India, but you always just presume they've been there since time immemorial. So I stop, take the obligatory photos, and then have a chat with a guy sitting beside the road with his two kids. He informs me that all is done by a Port Louis contractor, but actually more interesting is he goes on to say that the temple is dedicated to Mariamman, or Amman, as he refers to her, who is the South Indian Mother Goddess of rain, fertility and disease. She is generally worshiped in rural areas and her temples are usually situated by a landmark, such as a tree or rock, which holds some special significance. I will go back one day and see the finished product, when it will be all painted up, each individual figure all detailed bright and cheerily.

La Nicoliere Reservoir

Back on the road and I head up in to the hills, though of course we're not talking an Alpine range here, but still, it's all very beautiful and lush. Eat your heart out Cyprus, with your dry, dusty, blandly coniferous, Troodos mountains! I refer to Cyprus as I lived there for four years. Don't get me wrong, as I had a great time there and made many special friends, but, from my view point, the landscape's a bit bland and many of the people a wee bit confused, as they consider themselves Western, though are actually Arab, disguised as Westerners. (Gross generalization Tony, so don't go taking offence now!) After passing the La Nicoliere reservoir, where the guys are fishing at the point where the channeled water pours out, presumably the churning water attracts the fish, I move on to my mountain with the boulder on top. Still don't know it's name or anything about it, but will in time. It's not actually that dramatic, except for that there boulder! The road has gone from climbing up through lush, varied, tropical forest to arable land encompassing

little hamlets, with the inevitable cockerels running across the road and dogs barking out of boredom.

Lunch time in Hollywood

Arriving in St Pierre I feel a spot of lunch coming on and, being Sunday, most places are closed up, but then I come across the Restaurant Hollywood, which looks as though it should fit my bill perfectly. The boss, Chinese in origin, gets me a bottle of Phoenix, the local, very tasty, brew and I peruse the menu. Twenty minutes later and I'm tucking in to Pekinoise Noodles with prawns, beef , shrimp, veg and shredded omelette, with pimente (hot dip) and that sweetish vinegar stuff you get in Chinese restaurants, on the side. All for a tad over thee quid. You could go to the Burj Al Arab and it wouldn't taste any better. You can't better an ultimate of it's kind. After lunch I began heading South again, but after getting lost in the suburbs, for lack of a better word, of Highland, which I felt drawn to because of my Scottish heritage, splatters of rain started descending, so I decided I'd see if I could outrun the pending storm. I did, and after four or more hours wending my way South I was back home in forty minutes. Abracadabra, all done...        

Fate works in mysterious ways...

Looking down from Restaurant Juan,

 my potential breakfast Dhosa haunt

 Tuesday evening and the last two days have primarily revolved around waiting to hear from Immobiliers'. The two properties I'm deciding between are from different agents, yet within two hundred yards of each other, on the same abandoned sugar plantation. The one, bartered down from seventy to sixty five thousand rupees, with a stunning garden, four bedrooms, two bathrooms, airy, and with beautiful furnishings, is, to be honest, way out of my price range, unless I stick to my 'throw caution to the wind for a year and just live' attitude. The other, still magnificent outside, with, in fact, a much nicer pool area with thatched bar cum kitchen cum bbq outhouse; but three bedrooms, only one bathroom (oh, life is tough!), and mere ok furnishings  (no, that's actually too harsh as it's all fine). And I can have the landlord remove the naff prints of the pwetty little girl with a glistening tear leaking from her eye, etc. More important was that the asking price, monthly rent, of sixty thousand rupees seems way over the top. But, as I said before, I queried this last week.

As it happened, mid morning yesterday and Miss Patsy rings me to casually say that the landlord of this smaller property has dropped the price from sixty to forty five thousand; were they trying to initially rip me off or what!  I give Terrie a couple of hours to come back to me about the bigger house, and then when I ring her she informs me that it had been taken by the other couple who had viewed it. So that's that then, the decision has been taken out of my hands, fate has intervened. Funny, though, how such business's are all 'contact' when they're in the hunt, but don't inform you of the status once there's nothing in it for them, as with Terry here? Well now, let's not loose this other baby, let's commit and get some signatures down on paper. Look here, I was in love with the place and felt it couldn't be topped and then, bizarrely viewed a property, which aesthetically, did surpass it. But it's absolutely magnificent and I'm back in budget, saving a mere, coming on, four hundred and fifty quid a month! This amount more than covers the hire purchase on the Suzuki 400 Scooter, with a hundred smackers to spare; am I on track or what! But slowly, slowly, as don't believe anything until it's all signed and sealed.

Let's annoy the posh punters,

 sunning themselves, up over that there wall

Today I went up to Goodlands, the small one street town where my, hopefully, potential new home will be, and just had a wander up and down the hustle and bustle, as it is seriously congested, and that's why they're building a ring road. It really must be bad if the municipality has accepted this expense. But consequently there's a lot of action. Trucks, tractors ladened with cane, scooters duckin and divin, CD sellers pumpin out the tunes, tourists clickin and old boys a'watchin. Now one thing I've been missing is what had been my thrice or four times a week Indian Dhosa breakfast; see's you through the day. A Dhosa is a very thin, rice flour, crepe, usually around fifteen inches across, with generally, a ramekin sized bowl of veggie sauce and a coconut sambal and pimente sambal. The crepe can be presented in a variety of ways, and the most well known, is as a loosely wrapped tube, four or so inches in diameter, with a couple of spoons of potato bhaji inside, and this is known as a Masala Dhosa. I, personally find it a wee bit heavy and out of preference like a 'Ghee Roast', which is plain, but brushed with ghee, and served with the dips. Otherwise you can experiment with Kashmiri Dhosa which, from my experience, has some nuts, raisins and peppercorns in the mix, Mysore Dhosa, with a hot chilli paste slathered over it, Plain Dhosa, without my cholestrol inducing ghee, and no doubt millions more, depending on which part of South India your restaurateur is from. But the point is, is while cruising up the street, soaking up the atmospheres, I spot Restaurant Juan, up  on the first floor, brightly painted up, and saying 'come on up for an eleven 'o' clock demi', so, under such circumstances who says no... Up I went, got my beer, and settled down at the one table on the balcony, which  overlooked the high street; perfect vantage point. Talking to Juan, as no other customers at that time of day, I can tell there's a story attached to this Spaniard, but that is to be found out in the future. More importantly is he's got Dhosa's on the menu, and yet over the last two weeks everyone has said 'No, not here'. Five minutes cycle ride from pending home and I've found a potential breakfast location. The rest of the morning is spent checking out my potential, local, beach locations, and so far, that seems to be Grande Gaube, ten minutes drive away. Despite the local lady, down on the beach front, can of beer in hand, serenading the posh punters up over the wall in their smart digs, it's beautiful. And then I met Browney...  

Browney; An old dog, been around the block a few times, got a few stories to tell...