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Memories of Mauritius
We started on horseback, before the sun had fully risen, before the day knew what it would become. The horses moved slow and steady across the sand, their hooves leaving soft prints that the tide would erase within the hour. There was silence, save for the distant hush of waves and the occasional snort or shuffle of muscle under saddle. The sky was still lavender. The sea was barely awake.
There’s something about riding a horse on a beach that makes time feel different. You’re moving, but unhurried. Present, but also strangely detached. The horizon stretches ahead like a promise you don’t need to keep. In Mauritius, this feeling isn’t rare. It’s the way the island breathes.
Our horses carried us past dunes and casuarina trees, into the shallows where the water wrapped around their ankles, then ours. We laughed. We stopped caring how wet we got. It was less about the ride and more about being folded into the moment—wind, water, and animal, all moving as one. You don’t forget mornings like that. They settle into you.
The rest of Mauritius revealed itself in layers, like something slowly unwrapped. There were the usual postcard-perfect things: turquoise lagoons, soft white beaches, volcanic peaks rising like quiet gods in the background. But the beauty here doesn’t feel staged—it just is. You catch it out of the corner of your eye: an old man selling lychees from a plastic chair, a group of teenagers playing music on a rooftop, a banyan tree taking over a wall like it had all the time in the world.
We spent days driving in loops, not really trying to get anywhere. Around every bend there was something: a sugarcane field rustling in the wind, a Hindu temple drenched in color, a roadside stand selling dholl puri too hot to hold. The roads would curve along the coastline, then climb suddenly into misty waterfalls, where life moved at half-speed.
The island is a patchwork of languages, religions, histories—Creole, French, Bhojpuri, Tamil, English—all stitched together with an ease that feels impossible until you see it. And you feel it too, in the rhythm of conversation, the blend of spices, the shared jokes between strangers. Mauritius doesn’t shout its identity. It just lives it.
And then there were the water days. Snorkeling near coral reefs so alive it felt like swimming through a breathing kaleidoscope. A catamaran slicing through the Indian Ocean, wind snapping at the sails, dolphins in the distance like punctuation marks. We’d return to shore sun-drenched and slow, salt crusting our skin, appetite sharpened by the sea.
Mauritius isn’t dramatic. It doesn’t need to be. It’s a place that seeps in. Not a single moment overwhelms—but together, they accumulate. A ride at dawn. A smile from a stranger. A mango so sweet it surprises you. A sky that changes color five times before dinner.
And that’s why we fell for it. Mauritius doesn’t ask you to chase anything. It just invites you to stay a little longer, breathe a little deeper, and let the layers unfold.
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Mauritius' Location
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Who We Are:
Alan & May
Welcome to North of Known! We’re Alan and May, a married couple who have embraced digital nomadism while calling Bangkok, Thailand, our current home base. Over the past 8 years, our shared passion for exploration and adventure has fueled our journey across the globe. Join us as we continue to embark on our nomadic adventures, sharing our insights, discoveries, and travel tales along the way.
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