This was my first time in Mauritius, but it didn’t feel unfamiliar. There was something instantly legible about the island. Part of it is demographic fact: nearly two-thirds of Mauritius’s population traces its roots to India, with descendants of indentured labourers who arrived in the 19th century. But it goes beyond numbers. I hear it in Bhojpuri and Hindi phrases woven into everyday conversation, and see it in roadside temple flags. Even a billboard for LIC, an Indian state-owned insurance group and investment company, at the arrival terminal seems to underscore the connection.
I stay with that feeling as the car pulls away from the airport and heads east. The drive offers brief glimpses of local life: shuttered shops, light traffic, and a landscape that gradually shifts between land and sea. By the time I arrive at the Four Seasons Resort Mauritius at Anahita, the island has settled into a rhythm I can easily follow— and crave: laid-back. A tour of the resort puts that rhythm into context. The team explains that the property has just reopened after a seven-month transformation. The timing surprises me. Architecturally, the resort already feels settled, spread across a vast, green site edged by turquoise waters, with views of gardens, lagoons, and the open sea. The reasoning, offered candidly on multiple occasions, is simple: “for more openness.”
I’m staying in a Garden Pool Villa, and it quickly becomes clear where that focus has been directed. Interiors open straight onto a small garden and private plunge pool. Materials lean towards the natural, with wood finishes taking centre stage. Almost instinctively, I find myself stepping outside between meals, dipping into the private pool before dinner, using the outdoor shower without a second thought. It’s quiet, contained, and designed to slow you down—the kind of room that makes sleeping early feel like the right decision, even for a committed night owl like me.
The intent behind the resort’s transformation becomes clearer as the tour continues. At its core is a reworked culinary programme, now spread across seven distinct venues. I see it play out across the property: toes-in-the-sand sushi at Ti Pwason; and modern, Japanese-influenced Asian dishes at the overwater Awase. Radici takes a more classical route, with refined Italian menus curated by Chef Sergio Favata, while a local note comes through at the newly introduced Rum Library, where curated tastings led by Mauritian rhumerie experts pair each pour with context.
But it’s one thing to transform a space physically and quite another to keep flavour at the centre of the experience. I savour modern Japanese dishes blended with artistic sensibilities at Awase, and devour familiar flavour at Angara. However, it’s a tropical lunch that lingers longest.
One afternoon, a short boat ride leads to Île aux Cerfs for a leisurely meal at La Plaz—a sun-drenched interlude marked by ocean breeze and bold Creole breads. The farata wraps and samoussa are satisfying, but it’s the accompanying chutneys that stand out. Safe to say, this brown girl appreciated the chilli-forward finish!
As evening approaches, sundowners at BluZil segue into dinner at Radici. Chef Favata puts together a multi-course spread that ends with a delicious tiramisu.
Another day begins with a nature walk with Rick Bonnier, the in-house ocean environment manager. There are over 200 plant species across the property alone, many endemic to the island. Bonnier points out medicinal plants, migratory birds, and coral ecosystems visible even from the shoreline.
Seeing the reef from land makes me want to take a closer look. I head to the boathouse for a snorkelling session. In the water, the lagoon reveals itself—coral just beneath the surface, and schools of fish moving through the shallows. The experience is meditative. I feel light, and for once, my head is clear. I could get used to this. I remain keyed into the calm. There’s no urge to fill the rest of the day with activity, so I make my way to the Oseyan Spa, set over the lagoon. The space is simple and unshowy, oriented towards the horizon.
My 60-minute signature massage begins with a brief consultation, after which the therapist works steadily and methodically. The pressure is measured, the movements unhurried, and within minutes I realise I’m not thinking about anything else—not work, not flights, not the to-do list waiting back home. There’s clarity in that quiet; my head feels light, sensations sharpened without distraction. When the session ends, I linger at the lagoon-edge outdoor relaxation area. For once, I’m not chasing the next activity, as though the pace of the place has become my own.