MAURITIUS JULY 2007 #3

Yesterday I decided to go for a walk through Trou D'eau Douce - a town were one of my aunt and uncle's holiday houses is. It is a beautiful town, a town that services many of the 5-star hotels dotting the coast nearby. A town mostly full of creole-Christian workers. I have wondered for about 30 minutes through the streets when i hear voices coming from inside a shop.

"Come, Come"

I look inside and see a man in a Chelsea soccer-team t-shirt holding a beer who continues to call.

"Come, Come"

I decide to enter the shop, my head ringing with my uncle's tales of slain tourists.

The man in the Chelsea top introduces himself as Steve; and asks if i would like a drink. He buys me a Fanta, and in return i give him and his buddies - there was the shop-keep and 4 others calmly shooting-the-breeze inside - a cigarette each.

In an attempt to break the ice, i ask Steve and the shop owner how tourists are regarded in Mauritius.

"We must like tourist;" they both say in broken English, gesturing towards the till...