On retiring in Mauritius… one day
If you’ve read my blog for some time, you might be aware that I dream about retiring to Mauritius. Deep blue sea, tropical climate, heavy rain, hot sun, bright flowers, lush vegetation, white sand, far away from England. And those Mauritian curries go down a treat.
To be honest, if I fast-forward 20 years, I see DH and I in a villa on or very close to the beach in Mauritius, him pottering about retired, me sitting on the colonial-style, wooden veranda, drinking gin and bashing out bestsellers (because it’s such a passion I simply can’t stop – and because they’re so successful that my publisher keeps throwing money at me).
Every now and then I look at breathtaking, contemporary properties like Anahita and Villas Valriche – truly, these places are imprinted on my soul – and I wonder if we should be buying there now to prepare for our future.
And then yesterday DH casually sent me an email about an “investment opportunity” in Mauritius. It’s a ramshackle looking development, in the forest 600 metres above the sea. It consists of a “Bali-style”, single-storey villa; a gym; a “kiosk”; a restaurant that’s (somehow) hosted dignitaries such as Prince Edward, Jacques Chirac and Robert de Niro; two “pergolas” (one Creole-style); and an Eco-Museum (not including “items” – the mind boggles at what I could exhibit in it); and a driver’s room.
That’s it! I thought. It’s got our names written on it in tropical flowers. We could make a business of it. I know it looks run-down, difficult and expensive to run, but there’s something about that ramshackle little villa that resonates in my heart… watch out, DH, watch out!