Seychelles: Seashells by the Sea Shore

Tourist mags and online rags usually start any article on the Seychelles islands with something like: “Welcome to Paradise–Lucky You!” and then proceed to talk about the various suns of beaches that define the place, with scarce mention of the various sons-of-bitches that threaten it…

This is an archipelago of more than 100 islands with less than 100,000 people, so not a bad island-to-people ratio, if you’re looking to stretch out on the beach. But most of these islands are uninhabited, so don’t plan or ordering up a Mai Tai everywhere you go, sex-on-the-beach maybe…

And it all started a mere few hundred years ago, as a transit point for trade between Asia and Africa, the islands being about 1000mi/1500km off the coast of Africa. Since then France and England have traded off ownership, importing Africans as needed, and leaving a trail of creoles behind them, until independence finally came in 1976…

Now, though, the trade is in tourists, bronzed bodies on salty beaches, rotating on the spit and roasted to perfection. But there is trouble in paradise, not the least of which is the ever-increasing rule by outlaws in the high seas, which threaten the Seychelles’ livelihood and sustenance, and which few nations care to prosecute…

That job of policeman usually falls to the Seychelles, which has lots of experience, with one of the highest rates of imprisonment in the world. So watch your step. They score high on the list of environmental protection, too. I like that. I’ll get there one day–plenty of time. (Seems like reggae is a pan-island phenomenon more than pan-African, wonder why?)…

 

 

 

 

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