I've just returned from a trip to my island home. I'm managing my post-goodbye blues by jotting down odd moments, memories and snapshots before they fade. When you travel to Mauritius from Australia, planes fly across the lower half of the island to the west coast, turn around and then come in for landing to airport. As we descended, we flew over the island, through clouds, grey and moody. As we reached the west coast, the clouds cleared briefly and we were treated to a dazzling setting sun colours warming up the clouds in gold and red. There was also a mountain peak, lit up in gold, that looked slightly (unnervingly) closer than it should have been. Then we turned, headed back into grey and landed in dark grey. We arrived just before Divali. The airport had a display. I dusted off my rusty Creole and successfully got through Customs with a) the Customs officer understanding my Creole and b) me not having to resort to too much English. I'm calling that a win. I...