Hello from Paradise aka the Maldives
Hello from paradise!
Even if you think you don’t know the Maldives, I’m willing to bet you know the Maldives. Pictures of resort bungalows over water and influencers splashing on vibrant white-turquoise sand bars have become standard travel porn on Instagram and airport posters. Known as “the world’s honeymoon” destination, this string of atolls in the Indian Ocean (draw a line from the southernmost tip of India to Madagascar — it’s somewhere along there), is one of those places you only go if you are vacation splurging, or, like us, just happen to be in the area. (Lol what is my life!?)
Guesthouse—i.e., non-resorts—only became legal here in 2010, finally making Maldives accessible to those not willing or able to drop a grand+ a night (in shocking and important news, it is very affordable once you’re here!). We’re staying on Rasdhoo Island, the capital of the Alif Alif Atoll (think like state capital), with a population of 867 (as of 2015) and dimensions of about 500 meters by 600 meters—one mile around. If you stand at the intersection in the middle of the island you can see ocean in all directions. Rasdhoo has 16 guesthouses and theoretically 5 restaurants; a thriving metropolis.
To get to Rasdhoo, you take a “fast boat” from the airport. Like you literally walk out of the airport terminal and onto the dock; this whole country appears to be designed for tourism. And when even on the ferry dock at the airport you can see tropical fish clearly through the teal water, you know it’s going to be good.
We chose Rasdhoo in a large part because it holds one of the best “bikini beaches” in Maldives (aka you can wear a swimsuit). In a weird contrast to the Europeans in thongs and speedos, this vacation hotspot is a conservative Islamic country. As a tourist I can walk around in shorts and a tank top with no disapproving stares, and even drink a beer if I could find one, but the Maldivian women are completely covered in full-body black hijab and abaya and the sale and consumption of alcohol is illegal for Maldivians.
A few days in we’ve fallen into a nice routine. It starts with mas huni, a traditional Maldivian breakfast of shredded coconut, tuna, onion, and chili served with fresh roti. But don’t imagine that dry fishy-flavored canned tuna — think fresh (honestly, probably caught this morning) light tuna, just a liiiitle bit salty and tangy from the onions. I’m into it.
Then we go to the beach and read until it’s too hot or we need a lunch break. Around sunset we go for a 4-mile run (I know I lost a lot of you with that one, but running makes me feel good and happy), and finally off to one of the 3 functioning restaurants for dinner. I know some people fine extended beaching boring, but not me! I could read on a beach all day every day for weeks, no problem.
For our big excursion (more on snorkeling, our other excursion, in my next post), we had our hosts take us by boat to the “sand bank,” a series of sandbars and tiny islands just 10 minutes away. This is what “The Maldives” looks like.
They propped up an umbrella next to a cooler of water and left us there to spend the day splashing through knee-high warm crystal-clear water from sand bar to sand bar, taking photos and marveling at how goddamn spectacular it all is.