Down in Flames

It’s been a while since I’ve done a rum review, but this in no way implies sobriety. There have been another couple of rums that I’ve tried since the last time, all of them better than my latest, the watermelon flavoured rum from Cyclone. Now, after positive experiences with other infusions like vanilla, coffee and even a spiced rum, I was expecting no less than the usual high standard to which I have become accustomed.

Expect away Simon, this one would not deliver. In my usual haste, I had neglected to note that this rum was not infused with watermelon, rather it had a watermelon flavour added to it. There was a fair amount of sugar in the mix too – so much sugar that I wasn't sure if they had simply forgotten to ferment the cane juice! But of course they had, or we wouldn’t have been able to light it on fire.

Faced with a bottle of rum which tasted too artificial and too sweet, we did the only thing we could do – we cooked it. Armed with a variety of seasonal tropical fruits (mangoes, pawpaw, banana and lychees) we headed to the frypan for a much needed flambé. After caramelising the fruits, and warming the rum, we set it alight and almost took the house with it*! The best bit? We got to play with fire and Mum didn’t say anything, it was her idea after all. Though she did express concern during the flaming shots which followed…


*Due to a severe cyclone eons ago, all houses in Mauritius are made from indestructible reinforced concrete. Don't think we didn't try! The rum simply didn’t burn hot enough

My Dear Camera

Five and a half years ago, for my 16th birthday, I was the proud recipient of a brand new Pentax S6 digital camera. And now after all this time my faithful pocket-sized companion has met its end and moved on, gone to a digitally enhanced place.

Sure, it wasn’t exactly ahead of the field, nor was it at the top of its class at the time – even now it is dwarfed by all the 12+ megapixel monsters out there on the market. But it always performed above and beyond the call for me, rarely taking a bad photo and never a bad one of Mum (though no amount of argument will convince her otherwise).

That camera accompanied me on journeys to half a world away, the year I lived in France, countless domestic trips, visits to Melbourne, even on dates – I’ve shared some intimate moments with my camera over the past five years of our lives. And for five years, without fail, that camera has documented and kept those moments alive for me. To My Camera, I thank you.

Getting Around

I love the public transport here in Mauritius. There are no trendy metropolitan trams, no double-decker trains, and no cats on the water – just good old fashioned buses. And I mean old fashioned in the oldest way possible, various sources have corroborated, these buses were in service back in the 60s; and were dated then too. They’re pretty simple diesel creatures, a hardy metal shell with an apparently two-speed engine strapped to the underside. But the best thing about the buses here is the timetable. Or lack of.

Just turn up and a bus will be with you shortly. I don’t think we’ve had to wait more than five minutes before seeing that familiar shape roaring towards us, manically zipping between lanes dodging slower cars. The various bus routes in Mauritius are all serviced by competing companies, so they always come fast and often!

The Bus Driver is sealed away from the rest of us, kept separate behind glass windows which would make the Pope green with envy. More fun is The Ticket Guy who comes over to your seat to collect your fare. Most of them are pretty on the ball and collect the money almost immediately* after boarding, though some of them are too busy chatting, texting and generally having a good time. Michael and I once took one such bus, we got to within 50 metres of our destination before The Ticket Guy had worked his way to the middle and demanded payment. If only we’d been Backseat Bandits…


*I use this term loosely, we are running on Island Time here