There’s a restaurant in the Maldives that’s entirely underwater and it’s pretty nice
To visit the Maldives is to bathe in the clearest ocean of purest aquamarine blue. To visit the Maldives is to revel on soft white sand and eat delicious fresh pineapple. To visit the Maldives is, crucially, to be handed so many cool mint-scented flannels that you cannot remember what it is like to not be holding a cool mint-scented flannel. It is, obviously, heaven on earth.
Getting to the Maldives isn’t easy. Door-to-door, from my flat in Clapton, getting my toes on some Maldivian sand took about 24 hours. First you fly to Dubai, where it’s advisable to grab a shower in the Emirates lounge rather than browse the duty free for watches. Then you hop over to Malé. And then, emerging from the plane into heat so complete it’s like stepping into a warm, deep bath, you then wait for a sea plane to take you to the Conrad Maldives, a sprawling luxury resort spread over the two Rangali islands.
Being in a sea plane is sort of amazing, in the same way a near death experience is sort of amazing: our pilots were both barefoot, the whole thing had the air of a rickety ‘60s-era Fiat struggling up a hill, only we were in the air hundreds of feet above the sea. You can, if you wish, take a three-hour speedboat trip instead, but seeing as the seaplane is the most excitement you’re going to get on this holiday, you should probably give it a go.
Once you coast round to the Conrad’s welcoming jetty, every worry you had melts away. I was greeted with air con, bright smiles and some sort of passionfruit slushie arrangement, and in an instant the last 24 hours of being dehydrated on aeroplanes had disappeared into the ether.
Golf carts are summoned to take your luggage to your rooms (golf carts are the island’s chief form of transport, and you can demand reception fetch you one whenever you need it, like an extremely janky form of Uber), and you immediately learn the first rule of the Maldives, which is: this is a shoe-free zone. This is not a place for shoes. The reception walk-thru at the Conrad is covered in sand, and this is ostensibly to get you to remove your shoes, get your toes amongst it, relax. It is, I have found, beyond impossible to be wound up while you have your feet submerged in sand. It’s just so soothing. Twenty-to-thirty seconds into your stay, you’ve forgotten what the concept of stress even is.
There is wifi and everything in your villa, but you’re not going to use it. Checking your e-mail is not the done thing here. Instead, go take a luxurious post-plane shower (the showers, in private courtyards, are completely open air, which really adds a thrilling edge to scrubbing yourself clean with Radox) then relax on your own private bit of beach, or marvel at how you can walk from the warm sea to your own bed in 20 seconds flat. Life here is so swish it’s absurd. Reward yourself for swimming from one island to another with a cocktail. Spend Saturday night at a beachside lobster BBQ. If things get heavy, spend a day at the zen over-water spa. Nothing here is anything like real life.
The jewel in the Rangali complex crown is the underwater restaurant. The resort is studded with restaurants – Ufaa by chef Jereme Leung, contemporary Chinese flavours assembled around fresh-from-the-net seafood; the Mandhoo Spa Restaurant, which turns clean eating into a high art; the breakfast buffet, which I would take a bullet for – but Ithaa is the showstopper, a submerged pod offering unreal views of the Maldives’ thriving marine life while you drink champagne and think about how humanity might have gone too far.
It is, I have found, the perfect place to take selfies to make your friends back home exceptionally jealous of your life (be warned, though: Ithaa is normally booked up some six months ahead of time, so make sure you get your reservation in when you book your stay).
So relaxation: there’s loads of that. What you won’t find on the Rangali islands is cultural enrichment. You’re not here to marvel at architecture or visit historical churches, because it’s basically a load of sand and 500 of the most attentive hospitality staff in the world. If you want to actually do something while you’re there, watersports are a favourite, and there are glass-bottomed boat tours looping around the islands most days.
But the best thing you can possibly do is grab a snorkel, dip your head in the blue water, and not come up until you stop seeing new and fantastic-coloured species of fish. I was down there for two hours and was slashed red with sunburn before I left the reefs, and even then I was still seeing tiny darting yellow creatures I’m convinced nobody has ever seen before.
On the last night of my stay, I walked to the far tip of the northern island and watched the sun set with a load of birds, before one of the hotel staff found me, figured I was lonely and gave me a tour of the most luxurious villa the resort has to offer.
In the wardrobes there they have special biodegradable golf balls and a club with which you can hit them guiltlessly into the sea, which I did, and I have never felt so alive. Whatever the cost, whatever the occasion, it’s never a bad time to go to the Maldives and hit your golfball-shaped worries into the setting sun.