Some people are self-described "Horse Lovers." Others have plastered their cars with "I love my rottweiler" bumper stickers. Dog, cat, ferret, fish, everyone has their pet preference. I discovered several weekends ago that I am a "Turtle Lover."
I was invited to spend a night at a friend, Cyril's, family-run gite in Hellbourg, Salazie. We met up at his house in St. Andre and waited in a mosquito infested jungle-garden for the rest of the troop to arrive. The one thing that saved my sanity was an intriguing shell I saw wedged in a corner of the patio. I knocked three times. Like a genie coming out of his lamp, four stocky limbs and one wrinkly head sprung from within. I was shocked, terrified, and instantly enchanted.
This poor sweet turtle has no name, but he has a lot of spirit. I spent the rest of the waiting period force feeding him cabbage, gooing and gawing over his prehistoric face and, "chasing" him around the backyard. I was ready to put a leash around his neck and give him the first neighborhood walk of his life (he has apparently never left the backyard), when I noticed a concerned crowd gathering around to discuss my sudden decline to insanity. I had to brush myself off and quickly abandon the amour.
Off we went and soon were climbing into the dreamy verdant mountain passes of Salazie. The eastern-most cirque on the island, it is also the rainiest as a result of its selfless daily cloud collection. The result is a violently lush and green pallet of forest which covers this mountainous bowl, surrounding its visitors from all sides. It's hard to catch Hellbourg, the golden child of Salazie, in a sunny disposition, yet on this particular day, we were lucky to arrive with a clear and vivid sky. The sun was setting behind Piton de Neiges, the highest peak in the Indian Ocean, as we carried our bags into the gite.
The gite, Ti Jack, is an iconic homestead which has been inhabited by Cyril's family for over sixty years. The family's matriarch-- who still lives in a small bungalow there-- pridefully acknowledges that she gave birth and raised all of her children in this place. Jack, the oldest son, runs the main building as a guest house for visitors to Hellbourg. While my day was already nearing perfect from a chance meeting with a terrific turtle, the night was topped by a delicious dinner prepared by Jack and his wife, Marie-Paul. They were thrilled to have their nephew Cyril and his friends up for the night and spoiled us to no end.
As is often the case on Reunion Island, you find yourself at the end of the day exhausted from playing and eating so hard. Susanne and I fought to keep our eyes open after the last and final
course, Banane Flambe, alight with a rum-induced fire, was delivered to our seats. The heat was on and Susi may well have singed her eyebrows off, had I not been there to redirect her sleepy head. We crawled to bed and slept soundly in our mountain perch until the sun rose again and it was time to do it all over again.
ding on where you are in Reunion Island. The mountains are known for their departure from the hot, dry temperatures of the low-lying beach communities. On my first night in the new place, I felt the sensation of cold for the first time in months.
