A holiday in Mauritius.

At the end of my last post on this blog (over one year ago!), I said that I had no photos of my home in Johannesburg, or of the horse hospital where I was then working. While looking for photos of Mauritius, I came across a few of the horse hospital, and a picture of the outside of the block of flats, into which I first moved when I went to Johannesburg. Here they are, just to keep you up to date with the story so far.

Constantine Apartments, where I first stayed in Hillbrow, a densely populated suburb just to the north-east of the CBD. As I said in the previous post, even then it was not a particularly desirable area, and I was glad to move out after 6 months!

One of the views I had of the concrete jungle where I started out my new life in South Africa.

The gateway into the horse hospital where I was then working.

Some of the stables where the horses were hospitalised.

The operating theatre, is always a busy place!

Continuing with the next part of my story.....

In 1980, I had decided that I would like a really good holiday, so I planned a trip to Mauritius in the Indian Ocean in February 1981 for 8 days. Meanwhile in January of the same year while at work I had a phone call from a man called Nigel, who had just arrived from the UK. He had quite a strong Somerset accent, or so it seemed to me at the time, and I had some difficulty in understanding him! He had apparently been given my phone number by a cousin of my Mum's and was from Bath. I thought that I had better do something about my social life, so I invited him for a meal. We were instantly good friends and a couple of weeks later, he took me  to the airport for my Mauritian holiday.

What a wonderful holiday I had! We had a bit of an upset on the outward flight, as when landing in Durban en route, everyone was told there had been a phone call and a bomb might be on board! The plane was emptied and all luggage removed, and which we in turn had to go and identify. Several hours later, after a thorough check, we were allowed back on board and we continued the trip to Mauritius. 

On arrival there, the hotel had a car waiting for me and I was duly transported to the Peninsula Hotel, a lovely place sited, of course, on a peninsula on the south-east coast (!), not too far from the airport.  I was soon ushered into the dining room, as they were worried that, with the plane's late arrival, I would miss my evening meal. All went well until I ordered lychees for my dessert; I soon started coughing badly, as an errant fruit decided to take a trip down my windpipe! A young man from a table nearby came over to see if there was anything he could do, and the end result was that I went for a drink with him and his friends afterwards. He was a local and he had two brothers, one of whom was a sugar farmer, and the other was  living in Australia, but at that time he was on the island on holiday. It was arranged that the Australian/Mauritian would pick me up the following day and I would join the family for lunch. It turned out that the family were my constant daily companions for the next 8 days and I was taken to many parts of the island that I would never have seen if I had been alone! In the evenings, I was spoilt by the hotel staff, who put a huge amount of effort into making my stay a happy one, and with their help and one of the South African pilots who was holidaying there, I had very little time to myself. I did manage to find some time to do a little tanning, and I returned back to Johannesburg not only brown, but also fit and healthy from dancing every evening! Nigel duly met me at the airport and took me back to my flat where we made plans to be together the following weekend.

The Peninsula Hotel.  I had a room upstairs with fabulous views.  The weather was perfect, and even in the light rain we occasionally had, it was possible to walk around and enjoy the views and the scenery.

A walk along the beachfront.

The busy and somewhat untidy streets of Port Louis. Port Louis is the capital city of Mauritius and it's known both for its French colonial architecture (of which I have no photos) and the 19th-century Champ de Mars horse-racing track.   Sadly I never got to see a race meeting there!

Part of the sugar estate owned by the eldest of the brothers  I met.

Giant water lilies at Pamplemousses Botanical Garden,  leaves of some of which are more than 6 feet wide!

Since this so much has happened, I will update one day!!

Please note the following update.

The section of our overland trip is published on kindle if you should be interested

LINK

Yet another big change in my life - A change of country.

At the beginning of 1977, one of our local racehorse owners arranged for a South African vet to come up to Salisbury for three days, during which he would perform a number of operations. I was asked if I would like to join the group for dinner one evening, and this proved to be the start of an excellent friendship! I was offered a job in South Africa at his surgery where I would help in the laboratory, assist during operations, and generally look after the horses in the hospital. I had no desire to leave Rhodesia and turned the job down without a second thought. I had many phone calls from the vet over the next year, telling me that the job was still there for me and eventually I accepted, on condition that I could get a work permit.  Meanwhile, Mum and I embarked on a camping holiday early in 1978, driving down through South Africa to the south coast and along the "Garden Route" to Cape Town. We would then return home to Salisbury  via Johannesburg.

My trusty, solid and so reliable Datsun 120Y, with Mum checking out the tent.  It had to be a high tent as with oesophagus problems Mum could not bend over easily.

Mum in the dinosaur park near Sudwala caves in what used to be the Eastern Transvaal.

Camping at Storms River; is that a bottle of wine just being finished in style? Ha ha.

Storms River, a beautiful place on the coast between Port Elizabeth and Cape Town.

Looking down at the cable car from the cable car station on top of Table Mountain, Cape Town. It's much more modern these days!!

What a view out to sea...

and later in the evening, the lights of Cape Town.

While waiting for the cable car to arrive, we bought these two sheepskins from the local vendors.  I still have mine, (the white one); I'm not sure what happened to Mum's!

While camping in Cape Town, our tent was 'broken into'. As you can see, we were close to the boundary fence.  The fence was cut with wire cutters and the back of the tent slashed with a knife.  Our picnic case was stolen, but dropped just on the other side of the fence. Obviously on inspection it was of no interest!  What did totally disappear though, were our tins of food and all my make up!!!  Very frustrating. 

 On our return home to Rhodesia, we stopped off in Johannesburg and I went to have a better look at the horse hospital, which was situated a few kilometres south-east of the CBD. I got to see at first hand what the work entailed and I was greeted with the news that a temporary work permit had already been obtained! My residence permit could be applied for and issued once I had started work. This meant that all that was left to do was to hand in my notice at work and terminate the rental on my house in Greendale. 

The "international" move occupied a frantic couple of months, getting everything sorted out in both countries. My accommodation, a small flat in Hillbrow, just next to the CBD in Johannesburg, was set up for me and on 1 April 1978, I signed a 6 month rental contract. Hillbrow, then and now, is not  a particularly desirable area, especially for a young woman alone and the search was on very quickly for other accommodation!

A view of the concrete jungle in which I lived when I first arrived in Johannesburg. I hated it!

Meanwhile, I was loving my work at the horse hospital and I had made friends with one of our clients, who was also a race horse trainer. This soon meant that I was up with the lark every morning and riding work for him at the Newmarket racecourse, which was only a couple of minutes drive from the hospital. Not only was I more than happy in my job, but I was back riding on a daily basis once more!

The stands at Newmarket racecourse as they were in the late 1970s.  Today, the whole place has been totally refurbished to modern standards and is a magnificent gathering place for the horse-racing community.

As my flat rental contract was about to expire, I found accommodation in Alberton, which is a suburb a few kilometres south-east of the Johannesburg CBD and where the hospital stands. This was perfect for me after enduring six months in Hillbrow!  I was more than happy to move into the downstairs part of a double storey house, owned by an elderly couple who had had to flee the Belgian Congo in rather a hurry during the rioting many years before. They were the most delightful couple and became like second parents to me.

The days just flew by, as I would be up at 04h00 each morning to ride work at the racecourse and then off to work by 08h00! At the end of the working day, I was more than ready to just go back to my downstairs flat, have a meal and fall into bed, so as to be ready for another early start the following day! My social life pretty much disappeared, other than the times when I would take some leave and drive up to Rhodesia to spend a week  with my folks. 

Sadly, I do not seem to have any photos of my home in Alberton or of the horse hospital.  I had no blogs to write in those days and the camera obviously had very little use!!!

The section of our overland trip is published on kindle if you should be interested

LINK