The thing about not getting easy access to the virtual world is that one discovers a shameful thing about oneself.
More of that soon enough.
Until I entered a mall in Port Louis, the capital town of Mauritius, getting online was a first-come-first-served basis in my five-star hotel resort, which is limited to three computers, one of which has a French keyboard (“clavier Francaise”), so make that two.
Of course, waking up each morning at 5.30am (because that meant 9.30am in Singapore) means the terminals are always unoccupied. And it helps that many of the other lodgers as a whole do not see fit to log on anytime before breakfast, much less the afternoon when they could be out on the sunbeds catching the last rays of the dying sun.
So I found myself this afternoon, an admitted shopaholic, standing in a corner of the mall *not* window-shopping, but busily uploading pictures, looking at the contents in my Inbox, connecting socially, and generally being the busybody I once was.
Or maybe there’s a word for all that: catching up.
Note: A travel story of sorts will appear here on the tranquil emerald isle of Mauritius, but only a little later, I hope.