
Mauritius began badly.
- The last bag came up the thing at the airport, followed by the bag man. "C'est tout." But we were still owed a bag. I went over and conferred, showed the receipts on the back of the ticket.
Everybody talked. Bag man walked back down the carousel and a few minutes later our last bag came up with one other. Very strange.
- This made us the last people from the entire plane through customs, where the line stretched interminable because inspectors were dumping almost everybody's bags onto the counter, including one man who brought a quarter of all the shirts in India to sell in Mauritius. They have signs and announce on the plane that drug smuggling carries the death penalty here. I guess they mean it. They wanted to poke around in my bag a little, looking at the film cannisters and camera and asking questions, but it wasn't a scary thing, just irritating. So now we'd invested an hour in Mauritius and so far just cleared customs.
- We had 2000 Rupees from India left over and not a bank in this airport (there's two) would buy 'em. Didn't want 'em. Indian Rupees are not money here.
- Hertz ain't got no cars for rent.
- Europcar does, but I can't rent one here. This is crazy, but if you don't have a reservation when you fly in, you can't take possession of a car at the airport. You have to go to a hotel or another car rental office. This is so taxis can get at least one fare from you, and I am not kidding. Our hotel was 50 kilometers across the island, so we struck a deal with the Europcar man: We'd get a cab to some place called Shandrani, at four kilometers the closest hotel, and he'd bring a car over.
- At the end of the six dollar cab ride, a keen-eyed bellman whisked our bags in the direction of the Shandrani front desk, while Europcar man was nowhere in sight. Sigh.
Finally he showed up and we had a seat in the open air lobby. "I have no right to do business here," Mr. Europcar announced.
He ran an Amex draft and filled in 15,000 RM (nearly $1000) and wanted me to sign "in case you make an accident." Plus 1080 RM/day times three days plus 12.5% government tax. I didn't sign that, or any other as it turned out, but the long and short of it was we got ourselves a white Daihatsu Charade with no a/c. Now the Shandrani porter, who'd been camping on our bags, rolled 'em out to the Charade, staking a claim for his tip.
Gee, we'd only been in Mauritius a couple of hours and already we'd rented a car!
From the eventual book
Common Sense and Whiskey by Bill Murray.
(Photo of Grand Baie, Mauritius. See more photos in the
Mauritius Gallery at
EarthPhotos.com.)