Seychelles Enchantment

Playing golf, you might even win a dream trip. That's what happened to me, and now at last my wife will be happy to come with me, but only because we're going to the fabulous Seychelles. Departure from Milan Malpensa in the late evening; already at the airport we get acquainted with the other golfers. But, as usually happens, we bond most with two couples from Verona (the husbands players, the wives in tow). At last, a little late, boarding on the Air Seychelles Boeing. About nine hours of night flight and we land at dawn on the sliver of land of Mahe island's airport. A gust of pleasant warm air hits us after the chill of Milan. We wait for the transfer flight to Praslin island, seated at a refreshment point in the small airport. Unfortunately they tell us that one of the tiny aircraft that operate the transfers is out of service and so we'll have to wait quite a while.

Finally we board a colourful little crate and take off, below us a fairy-tale spectacle with the coral reef and the sea in a thousand shades of blue. Praslin's airport is small but full of charm with its wooden and thatch buildings. All the staff are kind and smiling, and we find, waiting for us, a little minibus that transfers us to our village on the Cote d'Or. Our bungalow is immersed in tropical vegetation, ten steps from the golden, tranquil beach of the Cote d'Or. On the large canopy bed, tropical flowers to welcome us. We are tired and dazed by so much beauty and serenity. The village is Italian with Italian staff (especially the chef: he's Sardinian and we'll appreciate him enormously). After a short nap we acquire holidaymaker status and, ever more enchanted, cover the roughly 50 metres separating us from the village's communal area.

We are practically on the sea with our feet immersed in soft golden sand, huge takamaka trees (tropical trees whose immense canopy reaches down to the sea; no umbrellas needed here), palms and many flowering tropical plants. Huge reddish crabs scuttle across the sand, to whose presence you soon grow accustomed: just ignore them. The air has a warmth that seems to embrace your body. The usual staff introductions and description of the possible activities in and outside the village, including the organisation of the two-day golf tournament which, however, seems to be the thing of least interest even to the most hardened players. We go to try the Lemuria golf course, a splendid and panoramic, very undulating layout. I play with the friends from Verona and the wives visit the exclusive club with the wellness course and the splendid beaches.

Halfway round we get caught by the classic tropical downpour, violent and brief, which serves to freshen the air and reinvigorate the grass of the fairways and greens, which, in any case, turn out perfectly kept. Every hole is an unforgettable glimpse of tropical vegetation and thrilling panoramas. We return to our splendid beach to lie in the shade of the takamakas and enjoy the sea, the climate and the tranquillity offered to us. The village team is exquisitely cordial but never overbearing. But how come, a hundred metres from the village, there's a casino? My wife at once organises a merry evening with the friends; it's also the occasion to show off some outfits more elegant than the usual beach pareos. Creole dances enliven the sweet nights of Praslin with girls and boys of beautiful Afro-Asian features and sinuous bodies full of sex appeal.

The next two days are devoted to the golf tournament, which records very low scores because of the difficulty of the course, but nobody complains because the setting pushes the ever-present sporting rivalry into second place. But we don't neglect the excursions, such as the one to Bird Island with its giant tortoises, crossing the tropical forest rich in mangroves and lush, tangled vegetation, then finding ourselves on an enchanting beach and diving into a sea full of tropical fish of a thousand colours swimming around you. What can we say about La Digue's beaches, described as the most beautiful in the world? And then the fishing trips with endless excitement from the struggles with tuna and sailfish of great size, only to enjoy them cooked by our Sardinian chef friend, who met little approval only when, on the Creole cooking day, he tried to pass off a dish based on bats.

Everything ends; we return home carrying in our hearts the dazzling white beaches, the breathtaking sunsets, the smiles and the beauty of the Creole people.