The vacation was supposed to be mountains, rivers, and hikes. In the Bovec Mountains we would hermit ourselves and ignoring reality by taking forest baths and labyrinth walks. But, Europe was closed. So we pivoted, opting for an island trip with stringent covid precautions and easy flight connections that avoided Europe altogether: Republic of Maldives. There would be no jet lag and only one connecting flight through Dubai to get to Male. A seaplane would get us to our final destination, Amilla Fushi, one of 150+ resorts that have been established in the 1,190 island archipelago.
In choosing which resort, it helped to prioritize our wants and desires. We focused on two things: immediate reef access for snorkeling, and the opportunity to swim with reef mantas, possibly whale sharks. Our villa was reef side, which meant we could step out onto a private deck where we could see the sunrise and sunset, climb down a set of stairs into the water and go snorkel. I loved this best because I loathe sand. Even while living in Brazil and in Namibia, I never did find peace with it and they are possibly two of the sandiest places on earth, beyond my own swimsuit.
My dislike for ocean water is a close second, but thanks to Mark (and the Wirecutter), we got proper snorkel gear that allowed us to swim without fear of equipment failure and choking on all those salty fish tears. Great gear meant my confidence would grow during our stay, culminating with an ultimate nighttime snorkel trip where we saw all the things that go bump (and bite) in the night.
We started at 7pm. After swallowing a little bile and a whole lot of fear, we jumped into pitch black water, pointed our flashlights down toward the seafloor, and took off. We watched translucent squids devour small fish, nursing sharks taking their warmup swim, fluorescent colored morays doing some fish-watching, and millions of bioluminescent plankton throwing the tiniest, most spectacular, neon rave. Of particular nighttime interest, we swam past tons of needlefish. They have a silvery sheen and are easy to identify by their needle shaped noses and creepy, googly, deadeyes. In the daytime, they jump out the water like a synchronized swim team and are generally harmless. However at nighttime, we were warned not to shine the flashlights above us, lest we spook the needlefish and get bitten, or worse, stabbed by their snouts.
Daytime snorkeling was a fine affair too, where we saw all the pretty things typical of a tropical reef. It was on an "ocean discovery" excursion where we spotted two huge reef mantas swimming in deeper water. It all happened by chance because the boat had stopped when Deets spotted a pod of spinner dolphins, but a nearby roaring speed boat ruined the moment. Pausing to decide our next plans, we saw a huge, drapey shadow near the surface of the water. Reef manta! We jumped in, snorkeling for our lives to catch up to the gorgeous beast. Spotting a second one, we trailed them for a good 15 minutes as they cruised around the navy water, snacking on plankton. Speaking of plankton, these microscopic drifters are essential to life on Earth by maintaining the health and balance of the ocean and land - scientists think they are responsible for at least half the photosynthesis on this planet. Also, plankton rash is hella itchy.
To celebrate Deets' 11th birthday, Deets, Mark, and Grandpa Schlink went scuba diving, and now my son has yet another hobby to blow all his money on. He came back from his lessons wearing the biggest grin I have ever seen.
Shore wise, we all had personalized, ill-fitting cruiser bikes that we loved and rode all over the island in between snorkel hopping the various reefs. Margo learned to juggle, play with fire, and perform silk rope acrobatics. Deets found a prized stick which became his favorite tool to play with in the enormous swimming pool. Mark and I drank gin slushies and ate ice cream cones every day. The kids learned to make sushi and loved eating it too. Most meals were unforgettable, though if we ever go back, we will avoid family style meals. I can't handle the guilt of not eating all the things on a set menu.
It wasn't all fun and sun fuzzies. We went standup paddle boarding, but realized very quickly what a terrible idea it was. Turns out, waves, strong currents, and SUPs make for clown show debacles. We went heels up, cartoon style over and over attempting to stand before we resorted to sitting. Deets almost got cast out to sea. Sharing a board, Margo and I struggled to get back to shore, opting to carry/drag the unwieldy board back to safety instead of paddling. Only Mark made it back via original route and after that, he was an emotionally and physically exhausted papa bear.
Margo and I took a class on coconut painting which resulted in her ditching me to play foosball, while I got criticized by the teacher for not following his frustrating instructions. Margo got a manicure with her grandmother which lasted so long that she picked off the polish while the manicurist did the other hand. I tried Tai Chi and the instructor was disconcertingly aggressive and nearly tore my rotator cuff. I guess I never realized it was a contact sport? I also came home to Uzbekistan with sea lice, fever blisters, patchy sunburns, a bit of cellulitis, and scarecrow hair - whereas everyone else's skin cleared up. There always has to be one person that the ocean hates.
Regardless, the Maldives trip was very much a relaxing, fun, enjoyable success. So much so, that we are planning another snorkeling, sand filled adventure for our next trip out of Uzbekistan.
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