After five days in Mauritius – three of which we spent waiting out a cyclone warning – we were beginning to feel more than a little stir crazy. As soon as the storm had passed and the meteorological service had lifted the cyclone advisory, we booked a car to take us around the island.
Posts tagged ‘adventure’
Although we enjoyed our stay in Mauritius (how could one not?!), it did not wow us in the same way that our visits to Zanzibar and Madagascar had. This is partly because we skipped some of the island’s most scenic locales and partly because the timing of our visit, coming at the tail end of the cyclone season, was less than ideal. We arrived to clear skies and flawless weather; a cyclone warning went into effect less than 48 hours later.
After bidding adieu to the Garden Route with an oyster feast, we headed inland for a two-day stay in ostrich country. Oudtshoorn – the little town in the Karoo where we stayed – is quite literally known as the “ostrich capital of the world.” Not only is it home to the largest ostrich population anywhere on the planet, but it also hosts a number of specialized breeding farms, including a show farm that features ostrich safaris and ostrich racing.
When Munchkin saw D packing his bags for a return trip to South Africa not three weeks after we had returned home, his first instinct was to plead with D to be taken along. Once he realized that he could neither hide out in D’s luggage nor guilt him into purchasing an extra ticket, Munchkin handed D his recently acquired Pinocchio plush toy so that D wouldn’t have to travel alone.
Every once in a while we like to look back at the bucket list we threw together at the beginning of our first Foreign Service tour, a few months into our marriage – to check if we can cross off any items and add a few new ones, but also to reflect on the time that has transpired and how it has changed both us and our goals.
No matter how many trips one has taken or how long one has lived abroad, there is still something slightly surreal about stepping off an airplane in a country that feels completely different from the place one had departed earlier that same day. Sometimes it’s a foreign language, unfamiliar food, or a difference in culture that strikes one viscerally. At other times it’s something as simple as the weather. There was no surer sign than watching the frigid wind whisk away plumes of the passersby’s hot breath to confirm for D that he had left Rwanda’s placid clime far behind.
It’s T-minus 5 days, if the due date prognostication is to be believed, and while S is more than ready for this pregnancy to be over, the little lady seems content to remain comfortably ensconced in the womb for the time being. D’s parents, eager for their granddaughter’s arrival, call after every prenatal doctor’s appointment to request “an update on the due date.” Munchkin has adopted a more direct approach, pressing on S’s belly while chanting, “Come out, baby sister!”
“Here’s a kiss and a hug for you / I love you mommy for all you do / Happy Mother’s Day!” Munchkin sang to D, ignoring S’s softly whispered exhortations to substitute “papa” into the Mother’s Day song he had learned at school. “Happy Mother’s Day, papa, and babushka, and dedushka, and mommy!” he concluded. At least the sentiment was right, and he did tenderly refer to D as “my little fuzzy papa” a little while later.
Disjointed thoughts about life, passion, travel, and the pursuit of happiness crawled lethargically through D’s mind as he stood, shoulders hunched against the tempest, in the crudely constructed canoe. The murky waters of the Mabamba Swamp undulated languidly while the leaden skies above dumped sheets of water and lightning flashed ominously in the distance. Not for the first time since D first packed his backpack at the end of high school and set off to explore a new part of the world did the nagging thought, “What am I doing here and why?” cross his mind.