FOOTLOOSE
A peep at paradise
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In the Seychelles, you can relive the simple joys of life. SWAPNA DUTTA
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Photo: Swapna Dutta
Striking sculpture: Celebrating 200 years of settlement.
I hold my breath as the plane touches down a few yards from the vast blue Indian Ocean, its foamy breakers touching the edge of the runway. I gaze at the sea in wonder. I’ve never come across such a glorious combination of turquoise, azure, sap
phire, jade and amethyst blending so delightfully with the vivid blue of the sky. I am in Mahe, the largest and the most important island of the Seychelles, which comprises 115 islands in all.
Surprising geography
I had expected a flat island. But Mahe and many other islands of the Seychelles are actually mountains cloaked in dense green forests that rise steeply out of the Indian Ocean. I am told that the airport was built on land reclaimed from the sea. As we step into the car I hear the radio announcement: “This is FM Paradise.” As we go up the steep road with hairpin bends, I marvel at the lush green trees forming a shady canopy overhead. The two peaks — Morne Seychellois and Trois Freres — now clearly visible, look down invitingly. Both are around 3,000 ft high.
Our hotel is on the Beau Vallon Beach, a gorgeous crescent shaded by tall coconut palms and the voluminous takamaka trees, special to Seychelles. The sugary white sands touch the back of the hotel and the sea is just a few steps away. It looks like the breakers may roll in through the dining room windows any moment…
The next morning I am on my way to Victoria, the quaint capital of Mahe, said to be one of the tiniest cities in the world. It houses the only airport and seaport in Seychelles. I pass by clusters of buildings as I go up the rocky path. At one bend there is the breathtaking view of the harbour. A few more bends and I’m at the city centre with its wide streets and smart office buildings. At the crossroads of the two main streets stands the Clock Tower, built in 1903 as a tribute to Queen Victoria. That was when Seychelles became a “Crown colony”. Close to it is a tiny porcelain statute of the queen.
I walk along the Independence Avenue, passing the colonial-style Law courts. Another popular landmark on the same road is the Pirates Arms, a popular rendezvous for meetings and drinks. It is always full. Another turn takes me to the market place. There are stalls set up in the shade of trees, selling colourful pareos, hats and bags; toys and curios made of shell, coral, coconut husks and other local products. Seychelles has three official languages, English, French and Creole, so
communication is not a problem. Besides, the people are relaxed and friendly, going out of their way to be helpful. I look curiously at whiskey bottles stuffed with red and green chillies. “What are those?” I ask.
“Hellfire” comes the prompt answer.
A lady standing next to me smiles and says, “It’s what they call the local chilli sauce. Tastes delicious with fish.”
The fish market, a few steps away, teems with people in various stages of examining, cutting and buying fish as they talk nineteen to the dozen, mostly in Creole. Close to the market there are several eating joints. Creoles are said to be great cooks, specialising in fish dishes. I stride into one and glance at the menu. It offers tuna steaks, grilled red snapper, smoked sailfish, grated shark satini and octopus curry — all of them packed with spices and smothered in “hellfire”. I opt for a piece of octopus curried in coconut which tastes really good.
As I walk into another alley I hear lively feet-tapping music emerging from one of the houses. “Is it the sega?” I ask one of the elderly passers-by. “Yes, it is” he answers promptly.
I am puzzled. “I thought it is always played on the banjo tambourine and the fiddle? This sounds rather like a keyboard.”
“It is mostly keyboard and the electric guitar these days,” he agrees, “one has to keep up with the times.”
Plenty of laughter
I walk up to the Bicentennial Monument or Trwa Zwazo, built to commemorate 200 years of settlement on the islands. It’s a striking sculpture. I get into a bus for Beau Vallon which is chockfull of men carrying fruits and vegetables; housewives carrying fish, dusters, brooms and babies; school children carrying satchels; youngsters carrying books and music. There are no cell phones, no walkmans but plenty of chatter and laughter. So ends my first saunter in Mahe. I realise it is called paradise not just because of the way it looks but because the inhabitants still believe in human values and the simple joys of life.
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