La Digue, more than an exotic island

During your trip to the Seychelles, one experience you really should not miss out on is the unique, heavenly experience of La Digue Island. 

La Digue is a small, majestic little paradise of the collection of postcard-like islands of the Indian Ocean. With a tiny population of not even three thousand people, luxuriant, rich, lush nature, the world’s most famous turquoise, crystal-clear beaches, and an amazingly friendly environment, this island is a surreal combination of pure exotisism, laid-back village life, the magical touch of old colonial history, paradise beaches, green jungles and the dolce vita life. Below is a short memoir of my time on this beautiful island.

It’s a warm April morning. Waking up to the sound of joyful tropical bird chirps, I know this day is going to be one of the best of my life. We’re going to La Digue, a peaceful, historical, and exotic little island, from Praslin, the island we’re staying in. We drive through the narrow yet smooth roads of beautiful Praslin, amongst huge green coconut palm trees, tropical rainforests, twisting and turning, admiring the vast ocean, turquoise blue in color, decorated with huge, imposing granite formations, off the coast of silent, isolated white sand beaches sprinkled with fallen coconuts and wild, colorful flowers of every possible captivating fluorescent shade. Arriving at the small port of Praslin, we park our car next to the Indian ocean and run to catch the morning ferry to the much anticipated island of La Digue. 

On the boat, seated on the top floor, admiring the hills, jungles and granite formations of the majestic Praslin, I lay my head peacefully on my sister’s comforting lap. The familiar touch of the wind of a moving boat tickle my skin and envelop my heart in a delectable warmth, my chest swelling with joy at the exaltation of living this exact moment, this moment in a tropical island, my colorful bikini under my dark green shorts, legs tanned, contrasting with the bright white sports shoes I’m wearing, arms and shoulders painfully yet happily red and sunburnt. This hot pain of mine is a testament to the exotic equatorial sun that warmed my skin in the tropical beaches of the Seychelles the day before. 

Life is perfect. I’m joking around with my sister, our repetitive yet hilarious inside jokes bringing tears into our eyes, both feeling the elation of long-anticipated adventure, good company, happy pink cheeks and bronzed skin. The Seychelles have us feeling drunk with excitement and adventure, the crystal-clear water of the picturesque beaches acting like clear, bubbly champagne, making us pleasantly light-headed, pink-cheeked with happiness and ever so euphoric, in disbelief at the beauty surrounding us. The ocean is warm on our skin. The swish of the green palm trees is peaceful. They stand so imposingly, so elegantly, these old respected matrons of the heavenly islands, governing with their wide leaves and deep brown trunks, these trees who’ve seen the islands unsettled, colonized and independent. The French and the English may have conquered and quarreled over the Seychelles, but these islands have always belonged to the majestic, god-like palm trees. 

These exhilarating thoughts on our minds, our bodies fresh and palpitating with the thrill of exotisism, we watch the warm, wild blue ocean move beneath us in its passionate, regular dance of strong waves enveloped in the movement of the decisive ship advancing rapidly amongst the untamed waters of the Indian Ocean. 

We arrive at La Digue and rush merrily to the bike rentals. We rent four bikes, tanned legs contracting on beautiful island bikes, heart rates happily rising, fresh, alive blood enticingly flowing in our veins, eyes sparkling at the sight of our bodies lean with adventure in the midst of this tropical paradise, warming up with wholesome effort and cooling down with the invigorating wind on our sweating skin, a cool wind whistling in our ears from the speed of our free bikes rushing speedily on downhill smooth roads. 

La Digue is a beautiful island. It weirdly feels like home, though it’s my first time here. Why does it feel so wild, yet so cozy? The savage branches of ancient oak trees seem to warn me of my presence in so wild an environment, yet seem to welcome me with their grandiose twists and rich green hues, their beauty so astounding it feels like an affectionate mockery. They know I’ve never seen such beauty, and their royal, fierce, magnificent presence feels too beautiful to be a simple accident of nature. Indeed, no. These trees feel like people, the most beautiful I’ve ever encountered, with wild, long, mesmerizing flowing hair and a tall presence, looking at me, acknowledging my childish fascination and wide eyes staring at them in pure awe. 

And the sea, so blue, so clear, so warm, so colorful with vibrant tropical fish and soft white sand, feels like a soothing warm hug, but also a wild untameable shark, delicate and calm on the peaceful turquoise shores where I swim, loud and violent with crashing waves in the dark blue, savage deep waters of the Indian Ocean only a hundred yards from my silent, picturesque swimming.

My whole experience here in La Digue feels like finding a long-lost home in a chapter of Robinson Crusoe. This whole island, with its wild location, savage nature, luxuriant vegetation, green jungles and immense black granite formations, is an oxymoron. Thousands of kilometers away from the shores of Africa, in the middle of an unfathomably vast and wild ocean, I feel at peace: I feel at home. 

On our bicycles, we sing and pedal to the exotic destination of Union Estate. Union Estate is a symbol of La Digue, an estate bringing together every fascinating aspect of the unique island. Colonial history and blooming nature unite in this beautiful little paradise. We go around the old coconut and vanilla plantation, transported to another time. Silent and untouched, our exploration feels like an intrusion. This estate has not changed, and it feels like we’re transported into the late 19th century. As we enter the plantation’s cemetery, French and British names on noble tombstones and tall coconut trees surrounding us, I feel that the plantation’s owner could come out at any time and question our unexpected presence in his land, talking with a heavy Mauritian accent, his skin freckled from the exotic Seychellois sun. 

Death doesn’t feel scary here. The cemetery is grand and quiet, luminous and peaceful. In La Digue, it feels like people don’t ever really go. They become the island, they become the earth of paradise. They are omnipresent, a part of this heavenly land even in the afterlife. We explore the plantation house, in French colonial architecture, see their living rooms and terraces. The feeling of intrusion never goes away. It always feels like they’re only a room away, playing cards, reading novels, adding long columns of figures on elegant wood secretaries, arranging the shipment of their coconuts and vanilla plants. 

A few steps away, in Anse d’Argent, the beauty is so that I simply cannot seem to process it. My lost brain is trying to find an explanation, a reason for this magnificence. I am mesmerized, a pure uncomprehension at the beauty before me enveloping me. The white sand, the imposing, statue-like, obsidian-black colored immense granite formations and the bright green tropical vegetation, all together in this postcard, make me sad. I feel nostalgia for the present moment. The knowledge that this beauty will one day, soon, escape me, leaves my mesmerized eyesight and my brain tired from emotion, so completely vulnerable. How can life go on when one leaves paradise? How can life go on anywhere else, knowing it’s not in Anse d’Argent? I remove my clothes and sit on the white sand, taking it all in. I feel like Eve on a silent beach, the delicate swish of shy waters caressing the white shore, the soft breeze swishing with the jungle’s grand trees, the silk-soft sand soothing my skin, the omnipresent knowledge of this ephemeral paradise enveloping my hopeless soul.

Once in the shallow sea, I go around exploring, chasing little tropical fish, pink, orange, red, blue and green. I find other little secluded beaches, separated from the main beach with monumental granite formations. Life is peaceful, life is quiet, life is beautiful. 

The tortuous path that leads us back to our bicycles is wonderful, a flat sandy little road carved in between huge granite rocks. Catching glimpses of the light blue ocean in between the rock formations, palm trees above our head, a sweet hunger torments our bodies. The shiny morning full of sun, sand, sea, jungles and oceans, bicycles and snorkeling has tired us in the most delectable way, and all we crave is some sweet tropical fruits to satisfy our eager bodies and eager minds.

Walking along, we hear in the distance the familiar, happy sound of Bob Marley songs. We find a Seychellois fruit bar, ocean view, with the most amazing menu: fruit platters and cocktails. We delight in the rich, sweet, mouth-watering coconuts, mangoes, starfruits, strawberries and pineapples, talking and laughing, listening to the reggae music. Today truly does feel like a Bob Marley song: laid-back, groovy, sunny, harmonious. Moreover, this whole island feels like a Bob Marley song. It’s like we’ve been transported into « Could You Be Loved », an unexpected synesthesia of colors, sounds, beats, scents and tastes taking over.

Riding through a long stretch of road in the middle of the island, jungle all around us and small houses aligned before us, we see the people of La Digue. Noone usually bikes through this part of the island. We lower our speed and observe them as they observe us, an instant friendship and conviviality taking place as they smile and as we wave, sparkles in our eyes. 

The neverending beauty overwhelms me, and all I can do is surrender to the magnificence. I don’t know why I have such a hard time before beauty. Perhaps it’s because I’ve gotten used to simplicity and finding beauty in every detail. In places like Addis Ababa, a booming city under piles of cement and gray dust, finding beauty was a passion, a way of life. And I kept on finding it, this glimmering diamond of elegance and beauty amongst a chaotic, practical city. Addis quickly became my favorite city, my safe space of hidden gems and delicate magnificence. But here in La Digue, beauty is everywhere. The brightness of it is bewildering, too intense, too splendid. I look around, and diamonds are everywhere, and I cannot even take one home with me. I know this luminosity, this euphoria, this high is ephemeral. This is a land of sheer resplendence, too gorgeous for human comprehension, and so I surrender before the ecstasy of beauty. I know I won’t ever be able to understand it, so I give in. 

The whole day goes by in this trance-like state. Back on the ferry, I am exhausted, not because of the swimming in tropical waters or miles and hills we biked, but because of the beauty. I look forward to being in a soulless hotel room, just so I can have space to absorb the exquisiteness of today. I lay my head peacefully on my sister’s comforting lap, and I feel so simply complete. La Digue touched me to my core, La Digue changed me. The experience of pure beauty was more than tourism, more than exploration. It was a philosophical and spiritual happening. In Anse d’Argent, I thought: « How can life go on when one leaves paradise? ». Now, in the cold gray boat, I knew the answer: by chasing the next heaven. I’m on a high, on a constant pursuit of the next euphoric idyll. My life is slowly taking shape, and it’s becoming a mirror of La Digue: an endless stream of colors, tastes, scents and beauty, a vibrant story too beautiful to digest. This island has become a mentor, a role model: laid-back, relaxed, happy and resplendent, yet conscious of its power and supremacy. La Digue ascended its purpose of an exotic tourist destination. Now, it’s a way of life. Life now seemed more serious, deeper than it did that morning on the ferry. Beauty isn’t simple, beauty isn’t plainly admirable. It’s complex and painful. It exposes your mortality shamelessly, and, if you’re brave enough to listen to beauty, you know it’s bittersweet. Taking beauty in is a painful art, and pursuing beauty is a courageous decision. La Digue made me decide once more. La Digue made me see the misery of beauty, and I chose to love it and never stop chasing it. 

Have I conquered beauty or has beauty conquered me?