Maldives

There’s no denying it – the Maldives does not come cheap. The resort? Bloody expensive. Getting to the resort from Male? So pricey, it will make you wince. Asking for an extra bottle of mineral water to be sent to your room? 15 USD. I’d rather drink sea water, thanks.

But other than it being prime honeymoon fodder, it is an extremely popular excursion from Sri Lanka, and with good reason. After a week of hustle, dirt and bustle, it’s no wonder anyone would be attracted by brilliant sunshine and achingly beautiful Maldivian waters, to rest their weary limbs.

A short plane journey, car commute and speed boat ride from Malé is all that separates the hustle of Colombo with the placid shores of a Maldivian island.  Malé itself, by the way – is fine.  Pleasant, and adequate for its two roles- serving as the administrative capital but more importantly as a gateway and overnight checkpoint to more idyllic waters.

As we sped through the open sea and docked at the welcome plaza of our painstakingly researched (read: 50% off offer from The Entertainer) island villa, we gawped at the vast canvas of aquamarine, turquoise and azure all around us.

We were given welcome drinks, checked in, and walked the short distance to our home for the next three nights.  After a lot of umming and aahing about what sort of shack we should opt for, the Maldives being as eyewateringly expensive as it is,  in the end we decided to Go Big Before We Go Home and given the money saved with the villa already, why didn’t we just burn a bigger hole in our wallets and opt for the Water Villa? It wasn’t like we were coming back here. (On my honeymoon, I’m not going to an exotic island. no that would be far too common.)

I remember that feeling I had when first walking out to the back of that villa. It sort of (well, not sort of, it did) look like this:

For me, setting my eyes on that view was a real “wow” moment. And I rarely do “Oh’s”, let alone “wow’s”. The combination of the crystal waters and the fact it was RIGHT THERE AND ALL I HAD TO DO WAS GO DOWN THE STEPS really was incredible.

I uttered another @wow” soon after, when I picked up a copy of the room service menu. And yes, these prices are USD. I briefly considered googling ” craft device make saline water potable”, but it looked kinda hard. The kettle would be our friend instead.

Speaking of the kettle (as one often does), an ingenious – and I’m told, altogether Asian idea that Aini followed through on, was the packing of several packets of instant ramen and noodles which had made it’s way all around Sri Lanka. Soon after arriving, we had begrudgingly realised that it was more worthwhile to upgrade to the Half Board package, given these islands were privately owned and thus snacking and dining ‘a la carte’ was futile. The other ‘half’ of our board would come in the form of instant, ‘just add water’ sustenance. Instant noodles have never tasted so good as when they have been surreptitiously stashed and enjoyed as a (rather mild) ‘f-ck you’ to the Maldivian resort establishment.

Now back to the honeymoon thing. It’s likely that the staff were so used to seeing couples in the immediate throws of wedded bliss, or perhaps they were simply not judging – but the bed had been made up to look like either an apt welcome for a couple of newly loved-up spouses, or a poignantly sad crime scene of a towel swan massacre.

My bemusement quickly degraded to mild alarm that this flora spread had actually resulted in a squillion little ants and termites hitching a ride on petals and then nestling themselves into the mattress and bedding, awaiting the night to slip out and feast on my poor, tasty limbs. I mean, even for honeymooning couples – it’s cute for like, two seconds and then it’s just faff getting rid of it all, surely? In any case, we swept the crap away as I cast one lat suspicious look across the sheets for little termite footprints.

Another fun trick that a couple of us have learnt on holidays – in bars – and in restaurants – is that if there’s at least one of you guys shameless enough to do so, you can always get a freebie by casually mentioning (or if you’re a few drinks in at a bar – screaming) the fact that it’s your friends’ birthday. On this particular occasion – and I don’t even recall why it came about except that Aini just decided to throw that in there mid-conversation with the concierge – it was apparently my birthday, so after pottering about in mild awe for a while, there was a knock on the door and I was presented with a raspberry torte of sorts. It was a lovely gesture, even though the clear motive for faux-Birthday-dropping was ‘exploit this opportunity for all its worth, dammit.’ On that note, we had also asked for ‘a couple extra toiletries’ for our stay, given how lovely the tiny little bottles of shampoo, conditioner, shower gel and body lotion smelt. Great for travel, those things. That brought a man to our door, casually hoisting a large paper bag in our faces, of what contained perhaps twenty of those little bottles. He’d clearly seen this trick many times before and would rather not make a return trip the next day, when we might mysteriously need even more toiletries. Predictably, we felt too abashed to ask again.

 Another fun quirk that the villa presented to us was a Pillow Menu. Now, being hoi polloi as I am, I do not oft frequent the sorts of establishments that would present me with a Pillow Menu. Thus, it would have been rude not to have availed myself of those services. Other than the more sensible sounding pillow choices (soft, medium, hard), there were other enigmatically named pillows such as Serenity, Soothing, and Energising. I didn’t want to look like a total tourist.. so I only asked for four additional pillows – three of the normal sounding ones (as it wasn’t clear exactly how hard or soft the actual pillow on the bed was, in comparison..so naturally I had to compare), and then I also plumped for the Energising Pillow, imagining chakras of energy streaming into my very soul whilst lying on it. When the guy brought the pillows, I was momentarily convinced he had forgotten my most anticipated pillow, until I realised with disappointment what that final orange ‘garnish’ on top of the pile actually was.

I have never been so furiously tanned in all my life than when I was in the Maldives. There was a small little deck out back with a couple of sun loungers, outside the bathroom. (The bathroom, complete with decadently huge bath tub, had a full glass pane window that looked out onto the water. Beautiful for lazy soaks in the tub. A little awkward if you went for number two whilst a friend walks by nonchalantly by the deck.) Sprawled across the lounger like a pastey little potato, I think I may have sunned myself for twenty minutes in the afternoon before I declared myself thoroughly baked and incapable of being cooked much longer. Whilst cooling off indoors, my skin quickly tranformed into a golden shade of ‘Sun-kissed, for Asians’, and I marvelled how remarkably healthy and well I looked, whilst taking shamelessly taking the opportunity to snap a couple selfies (which I never usually do, I must hasten to add).

Now although I have never previously snorkelled, given my nervousness around deep water (much less even entertained the prospect of diving), I had figured in advance that your own private lagoon in crystal clear waters was an apt opportunity to try. I had even practiced the breathing mechanism in my own house with a Decathlon-bought snorkelling set. Conclusion – a bit odd, but doable at least for short periods. When we arrived in the Maldives, we found the resort would provide you a complimentary rental of snorkel masks and fins. I stuck with my non historically saliva’d up mask but donned the fins. My, those things are awkward. One has no choice but to walk like a dumpy clown, but they were a marvel in the water, propelling you across the surface effortlessly.

I like the photo above simply because it’s so enticing, inviting you down into the warm clear embrace of the lagoon. This was taken at low tide, where with trepidation took some steps down and found that even I could stand up comfortably with the water lapping the tops of my shoulders. Dunking my head underwater, even at the foot of the villa where the timber dug right into the sandy earth, there were a myriad of beautiful little yellow and blue fish that I’d only ever glanced before behind a glass aquarium. I attempted to video my new friends with my phone (inside a waterproof zip-lock case), but discovered why people are so intoxicated with these underwater experiences – it just wasn’t the same as being in there, immersed. Encompassed by a swell of nature so much laughably bigger than yourself, hearing nothing but the glub-glub sounds of the water filling up your ears, soft sand beneath your toes and your fingertips catching the fleeting touches of scores of tropical fish as they dart to and fro. I spent a lot of time in that lagoon, just under the surface – nothing reckless and nothing bold – trying to burrow deep into my memory the thought of how fortunate I was to be here right now and feel everything beneath my feet, between my fingers and on my skin, and to be able to (at least, vaguely) return to this spot in my head anytime in the future.

 

As the lagoon stretched out further in a semi-circle marked by a rock wall, the waters got deeper, slightly murkier and with more smatterings of (dead) coral reefs. Occasionally, outside the lagoon, a speedboat would shoot across the waters, sending gentle (yet for me, unwelcome) currents into the lagoon.

I personally didn’t have the guts to venture much further out then across the paths of the dozen or so water villas, where the water was shallow. Whilst your own private villa is a fabulous opportunity to snorkel at your leisure, I didn’t trust myself not to panic when water got into the snorkel tube or mask, which you’re meant to forcefully ‘blow’ out. It never worked that well for me even when I was shoulder deep in the shallows, and I thought – venturing out into the depths, where the sea bed would suddenly plunge beneath your legs without warning, where dead coral might prompt an alarming yelp out of me – and where there were very few people and absolutely no lifeguards – nah, thanks. It’d be an interesting death but a rather embarrassing one nonetheless.

Another vivid memory of note – was that out of the boundless wonder that was Aini’s gigantic piece of luggage, also came a huge inflatable pineapple, good for seating two human sized passengers. When I recall my time on that island, I often recall a figure sitting on a bright yellow fruity object bobbing away in the distance of the lagoon. I like to think that Aini was rather happy pondering her existence, plonked on top of that pineapple, staring into tranquillity.

Pineapple on the loose

 

Honestly, there wasn’t all that much to do on the island itself, which I suppose is sort of the point of a honeymooner’s island… except a trip out to the sea to do some Proper Diving which Aini took up as I lazed around like the beached whale I must have been in a past life. Unfortunately it wasn’t until after she returned that she realised that due to global warming and elevated sea temperatures, 98% of the coral life in the Maldives were.. well, not alive. Oops.

One of the freebie activities (thank god) was a daily Manta Ray feeding session. These guys literally hurl themselves up the beach, allowing the momentum of the tide to push them up and back again, in anticipation of gawping tourists lobbing chunks of fish at them.

 

 

A cheery young man from the villa would come down each day carrying a big ice bucket of fresh fish chunks and a stash of disposable gloves. For me, holding and hurling squishy chunks of fish meat and guts was as fun as watching the Rays eat dinner. A few squeamish types couldn’t even muster up the courage to snap on the gloves, and gazed at the feeding from a safe distance. It is quite the spectacle to see a dozen gigantic Rays colliding against one another, hoovering up meat in a slippery, slidey game of Hungry Hungry Hippos.

Even as the sun faded and darkness set in, I would loiter out on deck and just stare out into the ocean.

All in all, it was a beautiful experience for the eyes and the soul, and a perfect end to an intrepid, dusty trip across old Ceylon.

One of my most enduring memories was from the last day before we checked out. In earnest, I clambered upon the giant pineapple as the sun was setting. The water would caress and and nudge the pineapple and its incumbent down the lagoon, bobbing gently across the row of villas. I sat at ease, cross-legged on top, quietly determined to soak it all in, as if by sheer grit and osmosis I could take it all with me.