Ice, Burgers

There were two things I longed for while on the island. I didn’t miss home much. I didn’t even miss watching television. My wants were simple. I missed ice and hamburgers. Every time we walked into a restaurant my mouth watered at the thought that I may get them. All I wanted was a large cup of ice and a good old-fashioned hamburger.
It took me a few days to figure out that Mauritius wasn’t a beef-eating nation. I saw no cows grazing in anyone’s pasture. Though I saw skinny horses. That were so malnutrition that their ribs showed. And I only saw horses like that on cartoons.
No one on the island had beef burgers. I went to some of the fanciest restaurants around but had no chance of even getting an imported burger. Not even a beef patty. I would have settled for that.
They served grilled chicken burgers but no beef.
Then I thought ice would be easy to get but it wasn’t. I ordered some of the most expensive drinks, in the Euro, by the way, and the most I ever received in my glass were three to four cubes of ice. Of which you had to ration to keep your entire drink cooled. You didn’t want to stir your glass too much.
After I ate my three pellets of ice, I wanted more. I’m used to sitting at a table, eating a full meal, drinking my entire drink then sit back to crunch on the ice cubes.
I became let down every time I spent beaucoup monies on a drink with just a taste of ice.
Even behind the bars I didn’t see any tubs filled with ice where the waiters could just grab a bucket and pour endlessly. I didn’t even see them ice down meats in the market.
Can you imagine, getting a tall glass of lemonade and there’s no ice. You wish you had some ice just to enjoy the sound of it clinking against the glass.
Eventually, I got used to No ice. No beef.

(Sorry I’ve been out for a min. Gustav cut the power off.)