🌿 A Road Trip Through Memories: Rediscovering Mauritius with My Siblings
There’s something about road trips that brings out the best kind of nostalgia — the kind that sneaks up between laughter, songs, and long stretches of silence filled with comfort. When my brother came back to Mauritius after years away, I knew we had to do something special. He’s always been drawn to nature — the stillness of trees, the sound of wind brushing through sugarcane fields — so naturally, a scenic drive around the island felt like the perfect way to reconnect.
That morning, it was just the three of us — my brother, my sister, and I. Three adults with different lives, different stories, and yet, the same roots that keep pulling us back to each other. We packed light, grabbed a few snacks, and hit the road towards Midlands Dam.
As we climbed higher, the air turned crisp and cool. The roads curved gently around lush greenery, and the view of the water was a serene blue mirror stretching into the hills. It’s funny how you can live on this island your whole life and still find yourself amazed by its quiet beauty — a reminder that sometimes, we don’t need to leave to feel the magic of elsewhere.
From Midlands, we took the road through Riche en Eau, a route that feels almost forgotten — where the trees form a canopy above, and the sunlight filters through like a soft mosaic. The drive was peaceful, dotted with the occasional car, and endless fields on both sides. We stopped a few times — sometimes to take photos, sometimes just to breathe.
We ended up in Mahebourg, a place that always feels like home, no matter how many times you visit. The waterfront was calm, with fishermen sitting by the edge, boats swaying lazily, and the faint smell of sea salt in the air. From there, we drove to Bois des Amourettes, where the bridge stretches over turquoise water — the kind of place where you can’t help but slow down and take it all in.
But honestly, the best part of the trip wasn’t the views. It was the conversations. The kind that flow naturally on long drives — about how much the island has changed, how much we’ve changed. About work, marriage, memories from when we were kids. There were moments of laughter, a few quiet pauses, and that familiar feeling of knowing you don’t need to fill every silence — just being together was enough.
If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you might remember that I once wrote about the bond I share with my sister. But I’ve never written about my brother before — he was always the one missing from the picture, living abroad, chasing dreams elsewhere. This time, it felt different.
We’re all grown up now — navigating adulthood in our own ways. But sitting in that car, singing old songs and teasing each other about our snack choices, it didn’t feel like adulthood at all. It felt like being home.
Sometimes, a road trip isn’t just about discovering new places — it’s about rediscovering the people who make those places matter. And that day, I realised that Mauritius isn’t just my home island. It’s the thread that ties our stories together — the quiet witness to who we were, and who we’re still becoming.
Until next time,
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There’s something about road trips that brings out the best kind of nostalgia — the kind that sneaks up between laughter, songs, and long stretches of silence filled with comfort. When my brother came back to Mauritius after years away, I knew we had to do something special. He’s always been drawn to nature — the stillness of trees, the sound of wind brushing through sugarcane fields — so naturally, a scenic drive around the island felt like the perfect way to reconnect.
That morning, it was just the three of us — my brother, my sister, and I. Three adults with different lives, different stories, and yet, the same roots that keep pulling us back to each other. We packed light, grabbed a few snacks, and hit the road towards Midlands Dam.
As we climbed higher, the air turned crisp and cool. The roads curved gently around lush greenery, and the view of the water was a serene blue mirror stretching into the hills. It’s funny how you can live on this island your whole life and still find yourself amazed by its quiet beauty — a reminder that sometimes, we don’t need to leave to feel the magic of elsewhere.
From Midlands, we took the road through Riche en Eau, a route that feels almost forgotten — where the trees form a canopy above, and the sunlight filters through like a soft mosaic. The drive was peaceful, dotted with the occasional car, and endless fields on both sides. We stopped a few times — sometimes to take photos, sometimes just to breathe.
We ended up in Mahebourg, a place that always feels like home, no matter how many times you visit. The waterfront was calm, with fishermen sitting by the edge, boats swaying lazily, and the faint smell of sea salt in the air. From there, we drove to Bois des Amourettes, where the bridge stretches over turquoise water — the kind of place where you can’t help but slow down and take it all in.
But honestly, the best part of the trip wasn’t the views. It was the conversations. The kind that flow naturally on long drives — about how much the island has changed, how much we’ve changed. About work, marriage, memories from when we were kids. There were moments of laughter, a few quiet pauses, and that familiar feeling of knowing you don’t need to fill every silence — just being together was enough.
If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you might remember that I once wrote about the bond I share with my sister. But I’ve never written about my brother before — he was always the one missing from the picture, living abroad, chasing dreams elsewhere. This time, it felt different.
We’re all grown up now — navigating adulthood in our own ways. But sitting in that car, singing old songs and teasing each other about our snack choices, it didn’t feel like adulthood at all. It felt like being home.
Sometimes, a road trip isn’t just about discovering new places — it’s about rediscovering the people who make those places matter. And that day, I realised that Mauritius isn’t just my home island. It’s the thread that ties our stories together — the quiet witness to who we were, and who we’re still becoming.
Until next time,
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