The rhythm of Seychelles hits you the moment you sip your first Takamaka cocktail. Smooth, refreshing, and infused with island soul, it feels like the perfect welcome to a place where time slows and life is celebrated barefoot on white sands.

Takamaka. The word itself feels like music, almost lyrical and light, as though it belongs in the chorus of an Afrobeat song. Its name suggests effervescence and fire, but the first sip reveals the opposite: smooth, soft, and quietly captivating. Much like the islands themselves, it surprises you, reshaping every expectation with elegance and ease.

My own introduction came on Praslin, Seychelles’ second largest island, where Takamaka’s gentle warmth mirrored the scene before me. From my hillside chalet, I woke to a panorama so enchanting it felt divine—waves rolling into crescent beaches, palm trees swaying in the breeze, birdsong rising with the dawn. If God were a view, Praslin would surely be it.

But the islands have a way of pulling you from your reverie.

And thats how my adventure began. Later that morning, still in Disney-movie mode, I set off down the beach and was snapped back to reality by a man shouting, “Hey, beautiful! Do you want a boat tour?” Now, I hate when men shout that. It never ends like the movies suggest (you know the romantic awwww feelings) . But something about the moment—sun on my face, waves rushing in made me pause instead of rolling my eyes. And honestly? Talking to him turned out to be one of the best decisions I made on Praslin.

“I’ll come,” I told him, “but don’t shout ‘Hey beautiful’ at women walking alone—it’s intimidating.”

He looked genuinely sorry. “I didn’t mean it that way. I just wanted to catch your attention. I’m Nyalle—I do boat tours of Praslin and Curieuse Island. I can even take you to Anse Lazio if you like.”

He seemed sincere, so I joined him at what he called his “office,” a reclining pool bed next to a beach swing, a table piled with green coconuts at his side. There, between laughter and logistics, he walked me through all the tours I could do before pausing and asking with curiosity, “Are you traveling alone?

I hate this question when I solo travel. Too often it spirals into the inevitable: “I can be your boyfriend, we travel together,” or if it’s women, “I have a nice brother—you’re so pretty, you should meet him.” Other times it’s the judgmental kind, people who launch into unsolicited speeches about why women shouldn’t travel alone, or why it’s wrong to be so “independent” that you don’t need people—read: a man. So yeah, i told him confidently looking at him, ” I am traveling alone and I love it.”

He leaned back, grinning, and said, “You need to find a rich man to pay for all your trips. If I looked like you, I’d be rich already.” Then, pointing at a lush little island on the horizon, he added, “You see that one? It’s private. If I looked like you, that would be my island. So tell me—what do you even do in Kenya?” “I work for an NGO,” I replied, watching his face light up with curiosity.

From his “office”, coconuts piled high at his side—he laid out the tours I could take: Curieuse Island with its roaming giant tortoises, Anse Lazio with its postcard-perfect bay, even a ride to hidden coves only locals know. Between his dramatic advice (“You need to find a rich man to buy you an island!”) and his mischievous grin, he poured me my first glass of Takamaka.

“You are wasting time, you are wasting your life!” Nyalle declared, waving his hands dramatically. “You need to get someone, maybe you will even love them but what you really need is someone to give you a good life. But what do I know?” He shrugged, then switched gears without missing a beat. “Anyway, for today I recommend you go to Curieuse Island. I’ve already called my taxi driver—he’ll take you to Anse Lazio too. Walk around Praslin after, enjoy. But don’t forget what I said about the private island, okay?” He reached under the table and pulled out a bottle with a mischievous smile. “Also, here. Drink this. Takamaka. No one has even given you Takamaka, and you’ve been in Seychelles two days? You’re doing life wrong, Noni.”

I laughed and from that moment, I knew this trip would be unforgettable.

And it was.

And that is how I had my first sip of Takamaka.

On Praslin, Curieuse Island gave me close encounters with giant tortoises, while Anse Lazio’s white sands led me to Chevalier Bay for a seafood lunch and an outdoor shower under palms. Mahé, the main island, offered a different rhythm: wandering through Victoria—Africa’s smallest capital city—then feasting at Marie Antoinette, where even the tortoises in the garden seem to enjoy the good life. Sundays here are pure magic, when the island slows down and locals gather at the beach to fish, feast, and dance. Every stretch of sand turns into a party, with pop-up kiosks serving coconut water, cocktails, seafood curries, and skewers of fresh catch.

Then there’s La Digue—perhaps the most enchanting of them all. With bicycles and ox-carts replacing cars, life slows to the pace of a gentle pedal past vanilla farms, granite boulders, and hidden coves. I spent afternoons cycling between beaches and evenings sipping Takamaka at beach bars, where chickens strutted fearlessly across the roads. Pro tip: don’t drink and cycle; the chickens always win.

What struck me most, though, was how safe and easy it felt to explore. Seychelles is one of the rare places where walking alone, day or night, feels effortless—something every solo traveler treasures.

And then, the little details that stay with you: kayaking through mangroves, dancing barefoot to Sega beats under the stars, tasting octopus curry rich with Creole spices, or ladob, a sweet-and-savory dish that tells the story of these islands in every bite.

If you ever find yourself in Praslin, wander down to the beach next to Berjaya and say hello to Nyalle for me then let him plan your days on the islands. He’s a riot, full of stories, and the kind of character who makes a trip unforgettable.

As for other tips while in Seychelles? First, know that it’s one of the safest places to walk around alone, day or night, which made my solo journey seamless. If you can, try to land in Mahé early on a Sunday morning. It’s the one day the whole island slows down—locals head to the beaches to fish, feast, and celebrate. Every stretch of sand turns into a party, with pop-up kiosks serving cocktails, coconut water, seafood curries, and skewers of fresh-caught fish. Everyone is welcoming, so don’t be shy—dance, eat, and chat your way through it all. And while you’re in Mahé, take a slow walk through Victoria, Africa’s smallest capital city. It’s compact, colorful, and full of charm—proof that the heart of Seychelles beats as vividly in its streets as it does along its shores.

 

In Mahé, take a walk through Victoria, Africa’s smallest capital city. Visit the temple and then head over to Marie Antoinette, a beautiful Creole restaurant where you can wander for hours. The highlight? Its giant tortoises — especially Abraham, the big male who puts on quite a show in the afternoons!

From there, hop on a ferry to Praslin. Don’t miss Curieuse Island and the picture-perfect Anse Lazio beach. While you’re at Anse Lazio, wander to Chevalier Bay for a fresh seafood lunch and an outdoor shower framed by palms and a small river trickling into the ocean. Pure bliss.

La Digue is another gem — cycle everywhere, ride past Notre Dame church, stop at the vanilla farm, swim in hidden beaches, and sip Takamaka cocktails at beach bars with views of tiny private islands. Just be careful cycling home after a few rums — those free-roaming chickens have no fear!

This island brought back my shine — and I completely fell in love with it.

But beyond the postcard beauty are the little things that make Seychelles unforgettable: kayaking through hidden mangroves, watching giant tortoises roam freely on Curieuse Island, or dancing barefoot to Sega beats under the stars. Don’t leave without trying octopus curry or a serving of ladob, a sweet-and-savory Creole dish that tells the story of the islands in every bite.

For the perfect trip, spend at least a week: three nights on Mahe, two on Praslin, and a couple on La Digue. Pack reef-safe sunscreen, a good pair of water shoes, and small cash for fresh coconuts and beach kiosks. Most of all, pack time—because Seychelles isn’t a place to rush, but one to linger, soak, and let it seep into your soul.

Seychelles is widely visited, particularly by those seeking unique, high-end travel experiences. Its tourism industry has demonstrated impressive resilience and is growing steadily post-pandemic. The consistent increase in visitor numbers—from pre-pandemic highs through robust recovery in recent years—signals its strong appeal and continued growth in popularity.

(Author- Nonie is a travel enthusiast and contributor to travel content)