I have an album on my phone named simply The Seychelles. It’s a digital collection of memories from my time on Mahe in 2018, taken whilst visiting a friend working in marine conservation there. The cover of the album shows a young woman, fresh out of university, with a wide smile and a terrapin clutched between her hands.

Anyone looking at this photograph, and many of the others within the album, could be forgiven for thinking I was on the trip of a lifetime. For somebody else, it would have been: sugar-white sand beaches, warm turquoise waters and daytime temperatures never dropping much below 30°C. During my fortnight on Mahe, I snorkelled alongside tropical fish, hand-fed star fruit to giant tortoises and watched the sun set in shimmering shades of orange and pink over the Indian ocean.

Palm tree silhouette at sunset, Mahe Island, Seychelles
Seychelles

Yet, as my poor friend was soon to discover, this vibrant island brought out the worst in me. Though I didn’t know it at the time (as I was only diagnosed two years later), I’m neurodivergent. Each neurodivergent individual’s strengths, support needs and struggles are different, but the latter manifests prominently for me in the form of sensory sensitivities.

I abhor sand grains scraping against my skin. Hot weather wreaks havoc with my body’s temperature regulation. The transition period between swimming and drying out afterwards is my own personal hell on earth.

Despite these challenges, and in the face of my friend’s understandable confusion as to why I was so miserable in such a beautiful place, I look back on that trip fondly. I’m so grateful to her for sharing her Mahe with me: the locals’ favourite snorkelling spots, home-cooked food under the stars, scenic drives along the coastal roads encircling the island.

Green sea turtle hatchling
Mafia Island, Seychelles

No single holiday or destination can be universally suited to all neurodivergent travellers. However, I’ve developed protocols allowing me to create experiences perfectly suited to my sensory sensitivities. Whether you are neurodivergent yourself, or travel with a loved one who is, I’ve put together my top tips for success below.

  • Prepare a kit to take with you for mitigating sensory overwhelm; this might include noise-cancelling headphones, noise-isolating earplugs, sunglasses and/or a fidget toy
  • Pack items that smell like home to bring comfort in unfamiliar surroundings, like a favourite jumper or pyjama set
  • Try to fuse the familiar with the new when planning a holiday, such as staying with the same hotel chain in different countries, or returning to the same country and accommodation but incorporating a new activity
  • Choose destinations and activities that align with you or your neurodivergent loved one’s sensory preferences; for me, that looks like travelling to colder climates and prioritising wildlife experiences or cultural excursions
  • Run through your travel plans multiple times in the days leading up to departure, identifying potential pain points and pre-empting how you will address them

Now that I know my sensory triggers and the best ways to mitigate them, I look forward to exploring new places and can travel with far more confidence than before. I hope these tips go some way to supporting you or your neurodivergent loved one to do the same.

This article is an excerpt from our new Steppes Traveller magazine – please get in touch with us to receive your free copy.

Thanks for reading

Author: Allie Mason