Monsoon at the White Lotus
The Maldives is an archipelago composed of 26 coral atolls and over 1,000 islands stretching over 500 miles across the deep blue depths of the Indian Ocean. Each island is encircled by pristine white sandy beaches, crystal-clear turquoise waters glistening under a tropical sun, and abundant marine life teeming just below the surface. Just standing on the dock, I spotted stingrays, small sharks, and all kinds of colorful tropical fish. This tranquil haven was the perfect respite after the happy chaos of India and the non-stop wedding festivities that overwhelmed even an extrovert like me.
When we arrived at customs in Malé, officials confiscated a bottle of champagne we’d packed in a suitcase because we hadn’t previously acquired the mandatory permit. They gave us a receipt and said we could retrieve the contraband when we departed the country. It’s entirely illegal to bring pork products, idols for worship, and bibles into the country. Islam is the state religion and its prohibitions are strictly enforced. Alcohol flowed freely, though, in the sequestered world of the resorts where the breakfast buffets offered three kinds of bacon and the poolside bar promoted an array of happy hour cocktail specials.
After navigating our way through the main airport in Malé, the densely populated capital city, a shuttle van transported us to the seaplane terminal. The pilots wore flip flops, which they removed once they took their seats in the cockpit and pressed the pedals with their bare feet.
The seaplane landed next to a wooden pontoon floating in the sea, where a speedboat from the resort was waiting to whisk us to the resort. The plane took off as soon as we boarded the boat and headed to the next island to drop off more passengers. When we arrived at the resort ten minutes later, staff waited on the dock to greet us White Lotus style. As far as I know, no one was murdered during our stay at the resort.
We’d chosen an island called Kuda Rah that was so small you could traverse its entire length in less than six minutes. I felt a little vulnerable on this speck of coral arising from a long dormant volcano. A seawall constructed of concrete in some parts and sand bags in others encircled the island, marking the edge of the turquoise reef from the shelf that dropped into the deep blue sea. Near the main dock, an unassuming sign designated a meeting point in case of emergency. I wondered how we would survive a catastrophic occurrence like a tsunami or other natural disaster.
Monsoon season thinned out the number of visitors to the island, so it felt like we had the whole place to ourselves. The emptiness intensified my sense of vulnerability, though. We’d been told to expect a few days of rain and few sunny days during the monsoon, with possible rogue rain showers even on the sunny days. We got lucky, though, and I ended up having to seek shade and apply sunscreen every day.
Our room was on the east side of the island. I woke up early enough to see the sunrise a couple of times, but my favorite time of day has always been the Golden Hour and I planned each day around it. The Maldives are close enough to the equator that the sun sets and rises around the same time every day, approximately 12 hours apart all year long. Around 5:30 each evening, I’d stroll over to the west side of the island and install myself in a semi-circular, rattan chair. The sun dipped below the horizon around 6:20 PM. Streaks of orange and pink lingered in the sky before surrendering to darkness. The bright beacon of Venus, which was especially brilliant this time of year, outshined everything else in the night sky.
One evening, instead of walking across the island for the sunset, I donned swimming goggles and swam from the little beach outside my room to the other side of the island. Colorful fish darted in and out of rocky crevices and spindly branches of coral beneath me. I spotted an Eagle Ray and paused to watch it glide along the sandy bottom until it started swimming toward me. I panicked. Even after the ray darted out to sea, I was still ungracefully flailing my arms and slightly hyperventilating until I flopped myself back on the beach.
Many hours each day were spent sitting on the back porch of our villa in a lounge chair, reading and napping in front of a tableau of bright white sand and brilliant water in multiple shades of blue, framed by tropical shrubs and palm trees. Aquatic activities, including long boat rides in search of whale sharks and manta rays, filled the rest of each day.
To be continued…
