Villa Maria Anse Corail is unlike any other retreat in Seychelles because it carries the soul of a family and the history of an island. The villa stands on land my father discovered more than forty years ago — a place he fell in love with instantly, long before there was electricity, mains water, or modern comforts. What existed then was an old plantation house, stone outbuildings, and the quiet rhythm of a former coconut and cinnamon estate. That untouched simplicity still shapes the atmosphere today. The villa is named after my mother, Maria, a daughter of La Digue and a member of the Mellon family, one of Seychelles’ original French settler lineages. Her heritage, warmth, and island roots are woven into the identity of the home. My father designed and supervised the building of Villa Maria as a tribute to her, and that sense of love and intention can be felt in every corner. What makes Villa Maria truly special is the tranquillity that has defined it for decades. The sound of the ocean drifting through the trees, the bird song at dawn, the fruit trees that have grown with our family — these are the details that make the villa feel alive. There is also a touch of mystery: for years, people from around the world came searching for rumoured treasure hidden somewhere on the land. None has been found, but the legend adds a sense of wonder that guests still feel today. For my family, this place has always been an oasis — a sanctuary where generations have rested, reconnected, and felt deeply at peace. Opening it as a self‑catering villa was our way of sharing that serenity with others. Guests don’t just stay at Villa Maria; they step into a story, a legacy, and a landscape that has been cherished for over forty years.

My name is Jane, and Villa Maria is more than a home to me — it’s the heart of my family’s history. My mother, Maria, was born on La Digue and later moved to Mahé, where she became a nurse. She comes from the well‑known Mellon family, one of the original French settler families in Seychelles, and she carried that heritage with a quiet strength and grace that shaped all of us. Over forty years ago, my father stumbled upon a piece of land on Mahé that instantly captured his imagination. Without telling my mum, in true cheeky fashion he put in an offer. At the time, the land had no electricity or mains water. There was an old plantation‑style wooden house, stone outbuildings, and workers living across the road. The property had once been a coconut and cinnamon plantation, and you could feel its history in the air. My parents bought the land with the workers still in situ, and it soon became our family’s holiday home while we lived in the UK. My father sketched his vision for a new, modernised home, took it to architects, and eventually oversaw the building of Villa Maria, named in honour of my mother. From the very beginning, we all fell in love with the peace and tranquillity of the place — the sound of the ocean drifting through the windows, the bird song at dawn, the abundance of fruit trees that felt like nature’s own welcome. There were even rumours of hidden treasure buried somewhere on the land. People from all over the world came to search for it, and although nothing has ever been found, the mystery became part of our family lore. As my parents grew older and could no longer travel, I brought my own family here. It became our oasis, a place where we felt grounded, restored, and connected to the generations before us. Eventually, we realised we wanted to share that same serenity with others. That’s how Villa Maria became a self‑catering retreat — a way for guests to experience the beauty, stillness, and sense of wonder that has been our family’s joy for decades