Mauritius

THE JOURNEY OUT

Boston's Logan airport was a zoo. Overrun with a diverse group of characters heading off to Asia and the Middle East, it is easy to imagine them in costume and fitting right into the Games of thrones.

The flight was packed. I weep for the fish that gave it's life for my supper. It was sorely abused by the Food Excellence Quality Process that rendered it an inedible brick. A poor woman behind me very noisily lost her lunch when the sensation of sitting upright did not square with the view through the window that told her the plane was cranked over on its ear affording a fine view of the Bosphorus far below. 

The approach to Istanbul showed a city that stretches as far as the eye can see. Ranks of concrete high-rises mixed in with battalion formations of four-decker apartment buildings. I regret that I didn't venture out for a look around the old city.  The prospect of three hour  security  lines and a very jumpy security force got the better of my sense of adventure. The airport itself makes Logan look like a hick backwater.

Mauritius is a good sized tourist resort island. At 780 square miles it is roughly three times the size of Anglesey (for my anglo readers), about three quarters the size of Rhode Island (for my American pals) and a whole lot bigger than Inishmore (For my sole reader in the Aran Islands). For those of you who inhabit the Realm of the Internet, far removed from the venal planes of mere national politics, it comes out at about 7.0439e+8 square smoots.

We are presently camped in a resort marina, where the choices seem to be swimming, eating or cleaning the boat. The weather is temperate and the breeze is soothing. It's nice. You would like it here. Nora, the third crew, member arrived yesterday and had the boat re-booted and aired out. We hope to push off in a day or two for La Réunion, about 100 miles southwest of Mauritius.