Some of those differences are annoying, like a slow and sporadic Internet connection, unpredictable shortages of things you never expect a whole country to run out of … potatoes and toilet paper, for example … and the ridiculously high price in time and money of going anywhere.
Some are great. The climate, the beaches, the pristine water, clean air, lack of crowds, mass media, marketing blitz and glitz in general all contribute to the positive aspects of Seychelles life.
(In completely classic timing, the electricity just cut off … again … so it may be hours before I can actually post this.)
A double-edged sword, as is so much in life, taking the good with the bad is a daily practice.
On an important up note, inhabitants finding like-thinking, fun others learn quickly not to take anyone for granted. Friendships are founded fast and furious, and with so few entertainment options available, social interactions … meals, beaching, dives, hikes, mutual veranda confabs and such … happen regularly to the enjoyment of all.
The downside is that all but a handful of these like-thinking, fun others are only here for a short time. Work contracts usually run for a couple of years; a long enough time to get attached, dependent on the entertainment value of the said fun other, and accustomed to their presence.
The first few years of life here saw me avoiding any closeness with expats. Goodbyes were much harder for me then, and it seemed a set up to allow myself to get close enough to temporary islanders to face suffering the predictable loss of them after only a year or so.
I’m over that now that I’ve learned the payoff; not only are there fab times while we’re rock-bound together, the result of them moving along is a wide and global scattering of people I adore. Even with island Internet and its issues, we stay in touch over the years between visits, and there’s no shortage of holiday ops in some of the most interesting places on the planet.
As of this coming Thursday, another treasured wonder bites the dust: our own Miss Kinky Black, Deb Wilson, is buggering off after two and a half years of keeping people here smiling, drinking and generally well amused.
As is tradition, a farewell is conducted with appropriate amounts of booze, food and conversation. In Deb’s case, classy woman that she is, it happened at Lounge 8 with everyone decked out in white to best offset the fabulous sunset that arrived on cue to thunderous camera clicks bent on immortalizing the occasion.
As a departing gift, a book compiled of our individual memories concerning Deb was printed. Titled appropriately “Paradise My Arse” … a phrase trotted out by Ms Wilson on more than one occasion … and emblazoned with a photographic representation of her making that point so well, it’s bound to be a gift she’ll keep handy throughout her life for ease of reference to this rock, her time here and those of us who will still be missing her.
New, wonderful, funny people will show up, though, and we’ll let them into our lives, enjoy them while they’re here, then think up leaving gifts special to them when it’s time for them to head back to the real world. That’s just how it works …