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First encounter...
We landed in the Seychelles after a ten-hour flight from Paris at 8 am. The sky was a beautiful blue, with only a little cloud for decoration. The sea was at play in various shades of green and blue. The hills springing up from the water were covered in thick exotic vegetation.
We landed at Mahe Island - from here we had to transfer to another island, Praslin and from there to La Digue, where we stayed for the first five nights. When lining out the succession of our stays on the three different islands, the thought had not occurred to me that I could have opted for a somewhat easier arrangement.
We were greeted by the heat blow on the steps of the airplane, it was only 8 am and already a solid 29 degrees. We decided to travel to the next island, Praslin, about 45 kilometres away, by airplane. Air Seychelles had 9 to 15 seat planes which would depart when filled. In these tiny flying tractors with opened windows, Erika was not afraid. Perhaps exhaustion killed the fear. She watched the islands encircled by coral reefs passing by below us. Fifteen minutes later we landed on the runway in the middle of a palm grove, at the end of which there was airport building. Welcome to Praslin. We crossed the island by taxi to the dock from which the boat departed toward La Digue. We waited a pleasant hour for the boat.
The boat then got us to La Digue in another hour; La Digue is the smallest tourist island, and the least crowded. I made Erika pose around the boat to have her in photographs because the weather was amazing. I was fascinated by the clouds especially, photogenic across the blue skies. At the end Erika went on strike though, citing both tiredness and hunger. I knew that the hotel is around 6 kilometres from the La Digue port, but I hoped we would find a place to eat right there.
The restaurant was at the end of the wharf, in fact. We arrived pulling our wheeled suitcases. I had fried fish with chips; Erika had merely a salad, whilst stealing from my fish and chips. I called this a restaurant, but like most other establishments of that type, it was an open terrace with a roof.
The island is tiny, perhaps 5 kilometres long. According to the book it had three taxis, a couple delivery vans, and some heavy wagons pulled by oxen. Before the food was served, I went to have a look if there was any taxi around. No chance, the ship had been there for a while already, and the people had been taken where they needed to be taken to. A little truck, delivering gas containers, stopped at the restaurant. I asked the driver if he could give us a lift and he said "of course". Erika sat in the cabin and I got to sit at the back of the track. The driver charged us what a taxi would charge, but we were at the end of our day's journey and it was only 1 pm.
The reception building and restaurant/terrace above it were hanging from a rock, the roof of the reception was the floor of the restaurant, and everything was open to the sea from the front. We were immediately offered a welcoming glass of juice and some kind of drink. Red flowers were arranged at the edge of the glass - hibiscus? The receptionist then took us to our bungalow; someone had already taken our luggage there. She instructed us how the air-conditioning and other things in the rooms worked, but were drawn to the emerald sea and white beach below. We had better go now, who knows if a week of rain will not start tomorrow?
There were perhaps 12 people on this smallish beach. I threw myself into the sea and immediately struck my ankle on either a sharp rock or some razor-like coral. (Wounds gotten from coral take a long time to heal, especially when the temperature is 30 to 32 and the humidity is 80 percent. They do not seem to heal at all.).
The first language we heard was Russian. What I had feared was coming true, some paradise! They were three Russian couples, younger than us, actually acting very decently. I calmed down. I did not swim that day. Fighting through the heavy surf to get to the sea was no picnic, but of course nothing was preventing us from getting refreshed in the shallow sea pools close to the beach. It was like a fairy tale.
The dinner was a fairy tale as well, with various fish specialties served on a buffet table. Mysterious, exotic, yet tasty, making every course an experience. By seven o'clock it was pitch dark. A strong, white light began to glow from behind one far-off island. Suddenly a huge moon emerged, shining to the depths of the sea, throwing beams toward us at our table. Erika convinced me that it really was shining in our direction, because one long reflection really ran on the sea surface directly at us.
At 9 pm, after having stuffed ourselves and being exhausted from the long journey, we barely managed the fifteen steps to our bungalow. The moon shone on our balcony and under it rumbled the waves. It was like a dream, we would sleep with the balcony doors open, lulled to sleep by the millennia-old sea. About an hour later I snapped out of my romantic dream. The waves hammering the beach were creating an amazing racket, I closed the door and turned on the air-conditioning.
In the morning we awoke to a shining sun coming down from a blue sky, decorated only with the scenic clouds. I opened the balcony door to refresh myself, only to be struck with the heat. The room was, thanks to the AC, much cooler.
Last modified January 2005
copyright 2000-2011 © Vlado Branko
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