Gastro finally got the better of me and 30 other inmates, three of whom sit in hospital. I planned to keep a low profile, but with my temperature rising from 32° (yes!) to 36.6° in two days, I figured they could suspect me of COVID if I didn’t spill the beans on food poisoning. I refused to see the doctor, so a pack of green capsules arrived, minus instructions for use. To be safe, I’ve changed my food preference to vegetarian. Meals are cold and inedible, except for fruit and yoghurt.
So, yesterday I got my (dog) blanket. It’s cold, leaves bobbles everywhere. I cover it with a towel and wear a cardigan to sleep. I catch myself thinking about this fallen five-star facility, the symbol of stuffed suits, and the socialist in me smirks. Are we seeing the remnants of fading capitalism, or will it rise from its ashes? What lessons must we learn about rampant consumerism in the face of human and environmental fragility?
Comes a time when the four walls of a room fold on you. So, this afternoon I went for an illegal leg stretch. The back yard abounds with tropical bush, well worth a walk during cool weather. But a pair of hostile eyes cut short any intended pleasure. Sorry, picture aborted.
People asked if it was safe to bring babies and teenagers travelling alone. I looked at the coping needs of two families and concluded that quarantine conditions are too harsh and regulations inadequate. Perhaps agree on special conditions with the Mauritian High Commissioner/Embassy in your country of origin and make sure you get the arrangements on paper.
