When I visited the Seychelles, the thing I remember most about introducing myself as an American was that everyone was surprised I’d made it all the way out there. The African island nation is way, way out in the Indian Ocean, a distinct jump off from the well-worn backpacker route that runs from New Zealand up the east coast of Australia into Southeast Asia. Kind of as far away from North America as it’s possible to get.
This is not somewhere you’re going to go over a weekend, nor should it be. Seychelles is a trip for when you have at minimum a full week, ideally two. This isn’t just because of distance; it’s because the Seychelles are the kind of place your carefully saved vacation days deserve.
This is why every other foreigner I saw during my trip was there for either their second or third wedding, but it does not have to be this way. After you’ve booked your flights, your only real remaining cost is the Airbnb of your choice -- you can eat and get around for a few bucks a day. It costs nothing to swim in the ocean, and that is at least 70% of what you’re going to want to do because the water is the most absolutely bonkers color I have ever seen on any water, anywhere, ever. It starts out as that translucent light green color that coke bottles turn when they’re really old, and then as you move away from the beach gets into all these teal shades I’m not entirely sure have names.