A Tropical Sanctuary for Generations
Under the moonlight, palm tree shadows danced across the vast sandy expanse as the tide retreated peacefully. The gentle flicker of distant lights competed with starlight while a rising wind signalled the approaching rain. During their final dinner on the shore, a soft, familiar voice tinged with sadness remarked from across the table: 'It's all gone a bit too fast, hasn't it?'
Ben agreed wholeheartedly, feeling the ache of departure from their week-long escape on Mauritius's eastern coast. The journey had slipped away as quickly as a coconut falling from its branches, leaving behind memories of wind-bent sugarcane fields, jagged green mountains, and coastlines braided with volcanic black stone and clear lagoons.
The companion sharing this moment while sipping cremant was his 80-year-old grandmother, Rosemary - affectionately known as 'Ro-ie' since Ben's toddler years when he couldn't properly pronounce her name. Despite the romantic setting complete with flowers, candlelight and mood music, this was anything but a romantic meal. Rosemary made certain everyone they encountered - from waiters to housekeeping staff and fellow travellers - understood Ben was her grandson, preventing any assumptions about an eccentric widow with a younger companion.
Healing Old Wounds in Paradise
Years had passed since their last travels together, and burdened by guilt over insufficient quality time, Ben invited his grandmother to fly 6,000 miles for an escape she would never have undertaken alone. Their relationship transcended typical grandparent-grandchild dynamics. After a turbulent adolescence, Ben moved in with Rosemary for what became seven years through school, sixth form and university holidays.
Her west Dorset home provided sanctuary from what Ben describes as 'a succession of disgusting, abusive men' - his father and subsequent stepfather. During his darkest days when recovery seemed impossible, Rosemary remained his steadfast supporter. When they tragically lost her daughter (Ben's aunt) to the sea when he was 17, an unspoken promise formed within him to always care for his grandmother.
Constance Prince Maurice, their chosen resort in the calm Poste de Flacq area, sprawled across 148 acres with 89 rooms, suites and villas plus a distinctive floating restaurant. The property, established in 1998, features long-slung thatched white buildings surrounding a beach the colour of bleached ivory.
Creating New Memories in Mauritius
Ben observed the role reversal with curiosity as his grandmother, who had never experienced such luxury, smiled while receiving pin-sharp service upon arrival - cooling towels, iced tea, and efficiently handled luggage. As the family's 'biggest people pleaser', he noticed it took time for her to relax while being cared for by staff.
Their days settled into a comforting routine: leisurely sunrise breakfasts featuring flaky pastries and tropical fruits, followed by mornings beside sea or pool. Ben frequently hired stand-up paddleboards (non-motorised watersports equipment comes included) navigating calm waters, feeling childlike pride when Rosemary expressed admiration after his determined battle against breezes to return ashore.
Often skipping lunch due to substantial breakfasts, they occasionally snacked on pineapple and ice cream delivered to their sunloungers by attentive staff. Home life intruded only through emails (notifications mostly switched off) and FaceTime conversations with Ben's wife and two-year-old son, whose new favourite animal became the dodo after receiving a cuddly toy version.
Food formed a significant part of their experience - Rosemary as former chef, Ben as self-proclaimed glutton. Among three dinner venues, Le Barachois, the floating restaurant, proved spectacular. At twilight, they crossed the lagoon past overwater villas to reach pontoon-based intimate dining areas.
Their French-inflected Mauritian dinner included delicate stuffed quail and braised lamb shank with warming spices, accompanied by fish splashing nearby and gentle floor rocking as waiters navigated tables. Wine pairings excelled, supported by the resort's 25,000-bottle cellar and Mauritius's best sommelier.
Beyond occasional gym visits and soothing spa massages, their getaway focused on the joy of doing nothing. Despite staff mentioning high capacity, the resort never felt crowded. Rosemary perfectly captured this: 'This definitely isn't the place where you have to fight for a sunlounger.'
During comfortable silences watching swaying palms or listening to red-whiskered bulbuls, Ben contemplated futures without his beloved grandmother, who served as a surrogate mother. Their last trip together in 2019 - a Southeast Asian cruise - highlighted the weight of passing time. Though exceptionally youthful at 80, he noticed her slowing pace and diminishing confidence, wishing she could relax as she'd always encouraged him to do.
When weather turned with afternoon downpours, they embraced opportunities for nonsense conversations. Ben hopes their journey partially repaid her unwavering support. Beyond a stuffed dodo for his son, they carried home primarily precious memories.
A week post-trip, Rosemary messaged a picture of west Dorset's sky, noting: 'Blue but not like Mauritius! Time has gone fast since being home.' Ben has resolved not to let another six years pass before their next shared adventure.
