Strolling through the streets of Port Mathurin means immersing yourself in the soul of Rodrigues. From early morning, the small central market comes alive. Stalls overflow with tropical fruit, fragrant spices, freshly caught fish and hanging strings of garlic. Colours burst, voices sing in Creole, and everything seems to move to the island’s gentle rhythm.
I let myself wander, with no fixed destination. An elderly woman offers me a fruit to taste, a fisherman tells me about his morning at sea, a craftsman explains how he makes his vacoa-leaf objects. Here, exchange is simple and sincere.
Port Mathurin is not a bustling capital: it is a living, warm village where time slows down. I leave with my arms full and my heart light, as though I had touched something essential: authenticity.