Bonjour à tout le monde,
Je suis devenue depuis un an une inconditionnelle de l'île Maurice: mon frère y habite, ma belle-soeur est mauritienne, j'adore sa famille...
Pour me replonger dans l'ambiance de l'île, j'aimerais trouver des livres, romans ou nouvelles dont l'histoire s'y déroule.
Avez-vous des idées?
Merci d'avance ;)
Bonjour a tous,
Je me pose une question, je viens souvent ici discuter, donner des conseils, parler avec des inconnus afin qu'il découvrent notre île et aussi pour qu'ils nous fassent découvrir ce qu'ils ont découvert. mais je m’aperçois que peu de personnes reviennent après leurs voyage, alors es ce normal ou alors ils ont été déçus? j'aimerais quand même savoir car parfois je me demande si nos conseils ont servi a quelque chose. bon séjours a vous tous Nella
Je me pose une question, je viens souvent ici discuter, donner des conseils, parler avec des inconnus afin qu'il découvrent notre île et aussi pour qu'ils nous fassent découvrir ce qu'ils ont découvert. mais je m’aperçois que peu de personnes reviennent après leurs voyage, alors es ce normal ou alors ils ont été déçus? j'aimerais quand même savoir car parfois je me demande si nos conseils ont servi a quelque chose. bon séjours a vous tous Nella
Hello,
Who among us hasn’t dreamed of having a ticket to Tahiti, Bora Bora, or the Marquesas in their pocket—preferably a one-way ticket to “paradise”?
Idyllic landscape of a dream island, but difficult to access: the Bay of Virgins in Fatu Hiva, Marquesas Islands
Among the values conveyed by literature, tourism, and advertising is the quest for “elsewhere,” for a change of scenery, in the truest sense of the word—that is, the need to leave one’s country. This need for otherness, for difference, is projected onto dreamlike, idealized, even mythicized places. In our imaginary world, the island is often that place.
Yet we forget that islands have also been ideal prisons. The examples are numerous: Elba and Saint Helena, Alcatraz and Poulo Condor, If and Yeu, the Devil’s Islands and Leros. The latter, located in Greece in the Dodecanese, hosted a sinister forced labor camp during the colonels’ dictatorship as well as a psychiatric hospital. Despite the beauty of its bay, tourism has remained marginal there due to its bad reputation, unlike the neighboring island of Patmos.
I’d like to share a selection of about a dozen islands from across the world’s seas and oceans. For dreaming...
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
SANTORINI
July 27, 1967
At dawn, the ferry from Agios Nikolaos (Crete) enters the immense caldera of Santorini. From the ship’s deck, Rainer, my travel companion, and I are left in awe by the sight of these towering, multicolored cliffs looming over us. We disembark and begin the steep climb on foot via the winding mule path up to the village of Fira, the capital perched above the cliff. Though it’s still very early, we head to the youth hostel. There wasn’t a soul in the alleys that morning—or rather, there were only cats! I have a fond memory of that encounter with Santorini: a sensory shock, a breathtaking volcanic site, a harmony of blue, ochre-red, and white. A welcoming island, as it was traditional to welcome the xénou, an island that hadn’t yet fully recovered from the terrible 1956 earthquake, a Cycladic architectural marvel where local life was still preserved.
It’s easy to see why, in antiquity, the island was named Kallisté (καλλίστη), “the most beautiful,” as it’s nearly impossible to resist gazing at this landscape shaped by tectonic forces. Indeed, a massive volcanic cataclysm—the Minoan eruption—shaped this scenery in the 17th century BCE, creating a caldera that was quickly filled by the sea. The enormous tsunamis that followed reached Crete, leading to the disappearance of the Minoan civilization.
A cliffside path along the caldera leads us to the peaceful village of Oia, at the northern tip of the island. Blue-domed churches and flower-filled villages with whitewashed houses line the way. This walk is a continuous marvel, offering splendid views of the caldera and the neighboring islands formed by the breakup of the ancient volcano (Thirissa, Nea Kameni). Oia is a large, picturesque village, like Fira perched on the cliff’s edge, which was severely damaged by the 1956 earthquake, and its scars are still visible. Its cave-like houses with vaulted roofs haven’t yet been turned into luxury hotels or shops. Absolute tranquility reigns here.
Oia in 1967—a peaceful village overlooking the caldera. But where are the pools and trendy bars?
A lush countryside covered in olive trees and vineyards welcomes us for a pleasant hike, interrupted by the kindness of a friendly islander who gives us a lift in his truck for a few kilometers. He’s off to harvest his tomatoes, which he grows at the foot of Pyrgos Hill. The delicious little cherry tomato of Santorini earned an EU Protected Designation of Origin (PDO) in 2013. We climb up to the village of Pyrgos, perched on a hill and dominated by the elegant bell tower of its church. Finally, we reach the black sand beach of Kamari on the island’s eastern coast to enjoy a swim.
{...} To be continued
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
RAIVAVAE (French Polynesia)
November 15, 2007
Éléonore from Pension Tama welcomes us with traditional flower leis, as if she’d been waiting for old friends she hadn’t seen in ages. The small airport terminal is lively, the atmosphere warm—people hugging, rejoicing in reunions, all under kilos of flowers. Then, just as quickly, the place empties until the next flight... in a few days.
In the Austral Islands, a ninety-minute flight from Tahiti, Raivavae is a world away from the frenetic pace of Papeete or the tourist crowds of the Leeward Islands. The true paradise of the South Seas can still be savored here—it’s a bit like Bora Bora half a century ago. Our first feeling upon arriving on this island is wonder, with smiles that could melt even the gloomiest among us, landscapes so stunning they take your breath away, and above all, a sense of disorientation and fulfillment. Picture a mountainous island, about ten kilometers by three and a half, encircled by a coral reef and wild motu, cradling a lagoon with shades of blue that would make Bora Bora green with envy.
The roughly one thousand inhabitants of Raivavae are spread across four villages around the island. Children are everywhere, as is typical in Polynesia, and they greet you with open, genuine smiles. Here, ancestral values have survived progress. The predominantly Protestant population is very devout, as evidenced by the several temples built across the island. Religious fervor sets the rhythm of daily life. Sundays are reserved for worship and Sunday school (catechism). Work is forbidden on that day, and tourist activities are suspended. These rules are strict and respected.
Hat contest for the worship celebration
Yet a sense of resignation is ever-present. The people of Raivavae know they are—and will remain—isolated. Despite the construction of an airstrip in 2004 and a few weekly flights to Tahiti and its nearest neighbor, Tubuai (200 km away), the island remains on the fringes of the world. One painful aspect is the separation of children from their parents when they leave for middle school in Tubuai starting in fifth grade. Television brings daily images of a world the islanders will likely never know, but one they often aspire to.
We are privileged. We have the pristine white-sand beaches of the motu and some of the most beautiful bays in Polynesia all to ourselves. The jewel in the crown, the island’s emblematic spot, is the “motu-pool,” about twenty minutes by boat. A natural, exquisite basin with crystal-clear water, gradients of blue, and white sand. And best of all, there’s almost no one there. In fact, lounging on the beach is frowned upon, especially for young women. Religion looks very unfavorably on sunbathing and lazing around. And yet, everything here leans toward that philosophy of life.
The "motu-pool"
{...} To be continued
Who among us hasn’t dreamed of having a ticket to Tahiti, Bora Bora, or the Marquesas in their pocket—preferably a one-way ticket to “paradise”?
Idyllic landscape of a dream island, but difficult to access: the Bay of Virgins in Fatu Hiva, Marquesas IslandsAmong the values conveyed by literature, tourism, and advertising is the quest for “elsewhere,” for a change of scenery, in the truest sense of the word—that is, the need to leave one’s country. This need for otherness, for difference, is projected onto dreamlike, idealized, even mythicized places. In our imaginary world, the island is often that place.
Yet we forget that islands have also been ideal prisons. The examples are numerous: Elba and Saint Helena, Alcatraz and Poulo Condor, If and Yeu, the Devil’s Islands and Leros. The latter, located in Greece in the Dodecanese, hosted a sinister forced labor camp during the colonels’ dictatorship as well as a psychiatric hospital. Despite the beauty of its bay, tourism has remained marginal there due to its bad reputation, unlike the neighboring island of Patmos.
I’d like to share a selection of about a dozen islands from across the world’s seas and oceans. For dreaming...
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
SANTORINI
July 27, 1967
At dawn, the ferry from Agios Nikolaos (Crete) enters the immense caldera of Santorini. From the ship’s deck, Rainer, my travel companion, and I are left in awe by the sight of these towering, multicolored cliffs looming over us. We disembark and begin the steep climb on foot via the winding mule path up to the village of Fira, the capital perched above the cliff. Though it’s still very early, we head to the youth hostel. There wasn’t a soul in the alleys that morning—or rather, there were only cats! I have a fond memory of that encounter with Santorini: a sensory shock, a breathtaking volcanic site, a harmony of blue, ochre-red, and white. A welcoming island, as it was traditional to welcome the xénou, an island that hadn’t yet fully recovered from the terrible 1956 earthquake, a Cycladic architectural marvel where local life was still preserved.
It’s easy to see why, in antiquity, the island was named Kallisté (καλλίστη), “the most beautiful,” as it’s nearly impossible to resist gazing at this landscape shaped by tectonic forces. Indeed, a massive volcanic cataclysm—the Minoan eruption—shaped this scenery in the 17th century BCE, creating a caldera that was quickly filled by the sea. The enormous tsunamis that followed reached Crete, leading to the disappearance of the Minoan civilization.
A cliffside path along the caldera leads us to the peaceful village of Oia, at the northern tip of the island. Blue-domed churches and flower-filled villages with whitewashed houses line the way. This walk is a continuous marvel, offering splendid views of the caldera and the neighboring islands formed by the breakup of the ancient volcano (Thirissa, Nea Kameni). Oia is a large, picturesque village, like Fira perched on the cliff’s edge, which was severely damaged by the 1956 earthquake, and its scars are still visible. Its cave-like houses with vaulted roofs haven’t yet been turned into luxury hotels or shops. Absolute tranquility reigns here.
Oia in 1967—a peaceful village overlooking the caldera. But where are the pools and trendy bars?A lush countryside covered in olive trees and vineyards welcomes us for a pleasant hike, interrupted by the kindness of a friendly islander who gives us a lift in his truck for a few kilometers. He’s off to harvest his tomatoes, which he grows at the foot of Pyrgos Hill. The delicious little cherry tomato of Santorini earned an EU Protected Designation of Origin (PDO) in 2013. We climb up to the village of Pyrgos, perched on a hill and dominated by the elegant bell tower of its church. Finally, we reach the black sand beach of Kamari on the island’s eastern coast to enjoy a swim.
{...} To be continued
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
RAIVAVAE (French Polynesia)
November 15, 2007
Éléonore from Pension Tama welcomes us with traditional flower leis, as if she’d been waiting for old friends she hadn’t seen in ages. The small airport terminal is lively, the atmosphere warm—people hugging, rejoicing in reunions, all under kilos of flowers. Then, just as quickly, the place empties until the next flight... in a few days.
In the Austral Islands, a ninety-minute flight from Tahiti, Raivavae is a world away from the frenetic pace of Papeete or the tourist crowds of the Leeward Islands. The true paradise of the South Seas can still be savored here—it’s a bit like Bora Bora half a century ago. Our first feeling upon arriving on this island is wonder, with smiles that could melt even the gloomiest among us, landscapes so stunning they take your breath away, and above all, a sense of disorientation and fulfillment. Picture a mountainous island, about ten kilometers by three and a half, encircled by a coral reef and wild motu, cradling a lagoon with shades of blue that would make Bora Bora green with envy.
The roughly one thousand inhabitants of Raivavae are spread across four villages around the island. Children are everywhere, as is typical in Polynesia, and they greet you with open, genuine smiles. Here, ancestral values have survived progress. The predominantly Protestant population is very devout, as evidenced by the several temples built across the island. Religious fervor sets the rhythm of daily life. Sundays are reserved for worship and Sunday school (catechism). Work is forbidden on that day, and tourist activities are suspended. These rules are strict and respected.
Hat contest for the worship celebrationYet a sense of resignation is ever-present. The people of Raivavae know they are—and will remain—isolated. Despite the construction of an airstrip in 2004 and a few weekly flights to Tahiti and its nearest neighbor, Tubuai (200 km away), the island remains on the fringes of the world. One painful aspect is the separation of children from their parents when they leave for middle school in Tubuai starting in fifth grade. Television brings daily images of a world the islanders will likely never know, but one they often aspire to.
We are privileged. We have the pristine white-sand beaches of the motu and some of the most beautiful bays in Polynesia all to ourselves. The jewel in the crown, the island’s emblematic spot, is the “motu-pool,” about twenty minutes by boat. A natural, exquisite basin with crystal-clear water, gradients of blue, and white sand. And best of all, there’s almost no one there. In fact, lounging on the beach is frowned upon, especially for young women. Religion looks very unfavorably on sunbathing and lazing around. And yet, everything here leans toward that philosophy of life.
The "motu-pool"{...} To be continued
Bonjour à tous
Hormis le coût de la vie, les conditions d'acquisition de la qualité de résident retraité, j'aimerais connaître différends avis sur ce que vous considerez comme positif et comme négatif dans la vie à l'île Maurice.
Merci
Juillet 1761, l’Utile, navire de la Compagnie française des Indes Orientales fait naufrage à 500 km à l’est de Madagascar alors qu’il se rend à l’Île Maurice. A son bord 120 hommes d’équipage et de nombreux esclaves malgaches achetés à Foulpointe (Mahavelona). L'équipage et une soixantaine de Malgaches réussissent à rejoindre un îlot désert dont la superficie est d'environ 1 km2. Les autres esclaves, enfermés dans les cales, périssent noyés. L'île est inhabitée (car inhabitable) et abrite uniquement des oiseaux et des tortues de mer. Deux mois après le naufrage, l'équipage parvient à quitter l’île à bord d’une embarcation construite avec le bois de l’épave. Les esclaves sont abandonnés sur place. Quinze ans plus tard, le chevalier de Tromelin, commandant de la Dauphine découvre l’îlot (auquel il donnera son nom). Et ses huit survivants vêtus d’habits de plumes tressées.
Octobre 2006, le GRAN (Groupe de Recherche en Archéologie Navale) entame une série de fouilles sur l’île. Devenue station météo pour Météo- France. Le but de l’expédition « Esclaves oubliés » est de fouiller l'épave et d'essayer de comprendre comment il a été possible de survivre pendant 15 ans sur ce caillou. Ci-dessous le journal de bord de la mission pour ceux que ça intéresse. On peut y suivre l’avancée des découvertes jour après jour. La page qui s'ouvre est celle du 2 novembre, les autres jours sont accessibles en cliquant dans la barre supérieure.
http://www.archeonavale.org/...006/fr/0211_2006.php
Février 2009, Irène Frain publie Les naufragés de l’Île Tromelin. Ce livre est le résultat d’une rencontre entre l’écrivain et Max Guérout, vice-président du GRAN et directeur de la mission. Je dois avouer que je n'ai pas trop aimé la narration. L'histoire est toutefois tellement passionnante et si invraisemblable que j'ai fini par passer outre, j'ai lu le livre presque d'une traite (sans mauvais jeu de mots).
une photo de l'île
Octobre 2006, le GRAN (Groupe de Recherche en Archéologie Navale) entame une série de fouilles sur l’île. Devenue station météo pour Météo- France. Le but de l’expédition « Esclaves oubliés » est de fouiller l'épave et d'essayer de comprendre comment il a été possible de survivre pendant 15 ans sur ce caillou. Ci-dessous le journal de bord de la mission pour ceux que ça intéresse. On peut y suivre l’avancée des découvertes jour après jour. La page qui s'ouvre est celle du 2 novembre, les autres jours sont accessibles en cliquant dans la barre supérieure.
http://www.archeonavale.org/...006/fr/0211_2006.php
Février 2009, Irène Frain publie Les naufragés de l’Île Tromelin. Ce livre est le résultat d’une rencontre entre l’écrivain et Max Guérout, vice-président du GRAN et directeur de la mission. Je dois avouer que je n'ai pas trop aimé la narration. L'histoire est toutefois tellement passionnante et si invraisemblable que j'ai fini par passer outre, j'ai lu le livre presque d'une traite (sans mauvais jeu de mots).
une photo de l'île
