19 September 2012
A few years ago my beautiful young bride (now ex-wife--first of several, I imagine) and I spent a week of our three-week honeymoon in a villa overlooking this, the famous Intendance beach on the southwest coast of Mahé, the main island of the Seychelles. By day we drank champagne after a large breakfast, lounged about the sun-drenched swimming pool with various European bankers and their supermodel wives, and then repaired back to our quarters for a mid-afternoon romp. Afterwards we cooled off in our private pool overlooking the pounding surf. For supper we visited one of the nearby restaurants, and then met on the verandah for wine, cocktails, hors d'oeuvres, and conversation with fellow guests. My petite blonde bride, fluent in French and Arabic, charmed the gathering and quickly made friends. We settled down as the evening drew on, the women chattering away, the chaps drinking whisky and smoking cigars and discussing the rugby scores, business opportunities in Dubai and Qatar, and the global economy. The evening wind and rain tore through the landing, giving us a light soaking. Down below the surf intensified.