To recap - After a tempestuous and traumatic 24 hours of travel, I was now standing on the dock outside Male airport watching the boat that was to take me to my final destination, pull into a space just vacated by one the hundreds of vessels coming and going that morning.
Compared with some of the other boats it wasn’t exactly huge and as my island was at least 90 minutes away, making several stops along the way, I had pictured something akin to a cross channel ferry in my mind.This one was a 26 seater, and looked a lot more modern than some of the others, so that was bonus. I should just clarify, that although I’m not a big fan of flying, I love boats - and so it could have been a 2 seater and I wouldn’t have been bothered.
There were about 10 of us waiting to board and it only took about a minute and a half to get us and our luggage on board. Now that’s my kind of ferry!
The crew of 2 didn’t hang about either, I’d barely taken my seat and we were off.
I only wish the Captain of my delayed plane had the same approach to speed as the Captain of this boat. As soon as we were halfway out of the harbour area, he opened up the throttle (do they have those on boats?) and we were off - very, very - very fast.
In New Zealand, Lottie and I did the Huka Falls jet boat ride, which was described as “Extreme”, promised “Thrills”and travelled up the river at 80 miles per Hour.
Well this guy made the Jet Boat driver look like a rank amateur. Ok, so he didn’t do the 360 degree turns, but he did manage to make the boat actually leave the water ( or that’s what it felt like) on many, many occasions. The sea was fairly choppy, but he didn’t care - the waves gave him extra lift.
We were out of Male heading past other islands in minutes and soon there was nothing to see except beautiful Blue skies and Ocean.
After about an hour of bouncing around, the novelty had started to wear off a little and my arms were aching from hanging on so tight, but the good news was that my insides were so shaken up, the “aeroplane bloat” I always get when travelling, that usually hangs around for a day or two, miraculously vanished without any of the usual associated unpleasantness.
Finally we reached our first stop. Some people got off and some more people got on and while several big boxes were being unloaded the captain got off and had a chat with the locals standing around the dock.
As we set off again, the Captain decided to let his young crew mate drive. Although I’m really comfortable in boats, I wasn't entirely thrilled with this idea, especially as this lad looked like he intended to break the world speed record on water. See - That’s me being all anal again, stressing over everything, when there is absolutely no need.
It turned out he was every bit as competent as the main man and we got to the next island without any trouble and very quickly. He handed the boat back to the captain, to steer us into the harbour and we gave him a little round of applause.
I wish I could remember the names of all these islands, but I’m struggling to remember how to pronounce my one, so - no chance!
When we docked, most of the passengers got off and so did the Captain. I thought he was just going for another friendly chat with the guys around the dock, but he carried on walking and disappeared out of sight.
Oooops!
I thought maybe I was on the wrong boat or maybe this was Bodufolhudhoo and we all should be getting off, but using the international sign language of arm waving, I managed to communicate my question to the remaining crew member and understand his reply - which was to stay put.
Only one other person got on at this island and fortunately it was another Boat driver. His approach to island hopping was considerably more sedate, which I really appreciated, as we were weaving in and out of islands and there was so much more beautiful scenery to see.
I now completely understand why they go so fast on the first part of the journey - there is nothing to look at except ocean and it would have taken twice as long.
Finally we arrived at Island number 3 and I was given the nod that this is where I had to get off.
As I stepped ashore, I was approached by a man I assumed was Bari as he greeted me with “Hello - Marion?” It turns out, it wasn’t Bari ( he was in Male for a couple of days) - his brother Fayaz had come instead. I turned to get my case, but the young man with him, who I later found out was the delightful Arshad, had already got it, loaded it on to a barrow and was offering to take my backpack as well.
So, unencumbered with luggage, Fayaz and I strolled down the road to my home for the next 2 weeks.
Now when I say road, that is a bit misleading, because there are no cars on Bod (I’m going to call it Bod from now onwards because, I keep forgetting how to spell Bodufolhudhoo). So the little streets are all paved with sand - how cool is that!
He asked me how my journey was and I reckoned he didn’t have 5 hours to spare while I told him, so I just said it’s best not to ask!
After a couple of minutes we arrived at Holiday Village Retreat.
When it comes to booking holidays, I like to plan my own trips and that means research - lots and lots and lots of research.
Of course it would be much easier to go through a travel agent or tour operator (and when you are in danger of missing a flight - much less stressful), but where would be the fun in that.
It is a lot of work, but I actually really enjoy doing it and it means my holiday is totally personalised.
So my decision to choose this particular place was a result of many hours (if not days) on the internet and I was pretty confident it would live up to expectations.
I should add, that I know how photoshop works, so I never trust photos and I have seen marketing professionals in action, so I don’t trust glowing descriptions either. It’s the reviews that swing it for me and my expectations are adjusted accordingly.
As Fayaz opened the lovely wooden door and we entered the garden, I was very pleasantly surprised. The photos were 90% accurate and the missing 10% accounted for the fact that it was actually, even prettier than the pictures. So far - expectations well and truly exceeded!
I’ve stayed in a lot of hotels in my time ( I used to travel on business - a lot) and one of the things that always drives me nuts, is checking in. I’m sure you’ve experienced it too.
You arrive at the hotel, usually tired and ratty from your journey.
You stand at the reception desk for ages while the receptionists, deal with other guests/ chat to each other/take phone calls/stare at their computer without looking up/ disappear into the back office as soon as they notice you ( delete as appropriate).
When you finally catch someone’s eye, you may or may not get a smile as they say “Name?”
Without another word, a form is thrust in front of you - usually without a pen.
You pass the completed form across the desk and it’s swiftly passed back again, because you’ve missed a tiny little space into which you should have squeezed your address/date & place of birth/ all your phone numbers/mother’s maiden name/weight, height and vital statistics. (again, delete as appropriate)
Much tapping on the keyboard and staring at the screen follows before….
Your plastic card key thingy is shoved into it’s wallet and plonked on the desk in front of you. (Actually giving it to you, is clearly not allowed - there might be some accidental touching involved)
A hand is then waved across a 180 degree arc, whilst he/she mutters “the lift is over there”.
You get to your room and “Sods Law” dictates that the further away from reception you are - the less likely it is that the bloody plastic key thingy will work.
After another stimulating encounter with Reception you return to your room with a new key
You then realise you’ve forgotten to ask:-
How much the parking is
When breakfast is served
When dinner is served
What time you have to check out
How far is the beach/shops/airport/ferry etc.
What the wifi code is
None of this information is in your room and no-one is answering the phone, so it’s back down to reception.
Well I can only assume that Bary and Fayaz have had similar experiences, and resolved to make their checking in process, the complete, polar, opposite.
I was invited to sit down in the lovely little reception area, handed a glass of juice and introduced to the whole team who had all come out to welcome me.
Fayaz handed me (please note there was actual “handing” involved - no plonking here):-
A sheet of paper with instructions for using the safe and the wifi code,
A map of the island, with the route to the beach and best snorkelling, clearly marked
A list of all the activities on offer
And a menu showing all the yummy food items I could choose for lunch and dinner each day.
He explained that I just needed to decide what and when I wanted to eat and then give them a couple of hours notice.
I appreciate this would be quite a hard service to offer in a huge resort but I think it’s a customer service winner. These guys work on their guest’s agenda, not make you fit in with theirs.
I was waiting for the inevitable admin and when Fayaz began to apologise for having to take my passport, I thought - OK here we go - he’ll whip out the forms next. As I handed it over, I assured him there was no need to apologise, as I was used to giving up my passport in hotels everywhere.
But this is clearly their own little piece of paradise and they don’t want to be like “everywhere” so he jumped up, made a copy and gave my passport straight back to me.
And that was it. No forms, no credit card swiping and definitely no horrible bit of plastic to open the door, just an invitation to show my to my room which has a proper key with a beautifully carved wooden key fob.
Everything in my room was much bigger than it looked in the photos and just as attractive.
(As I’m still in the Maldives, it feels slightly odd to be using the past tense - so I’m switching to the here and now for this bit).
The bedroom has an enormous, very comfy bed with plenty of pillows, enough hanging space for a 2 week stay, a wide screen television, a safe, a fridge stocked with soft drinks and lot’s of much needed water, plus tea/coffee making facilities. The bathroom has a large walk in shower, a loo (of course) and a washbasin that I would definitely have in my bathroom at home.
Now I bet you’re thinking, “well it all sounds very nice Maz, but that’s pretty standard in good hotels around the world”. But (and it’s a big but) this is not a hotel - it’s a guest house and a remarkably inexpensive one at that.
So with that in mind, let me continue to describe the clever, thoughtful touches guaranteed to blow expectations right out of the water.
So far, I’ve only mentioned the heat, in my previous post, but It’s impossible to describe how hot and humid it is here. So without the uber efficient, super powerful, remote controlled, air conditioning unit in my room, I would have melted into a puddle by now. Given their low room rate and being fully aware that people forget or don’t bother to turn the air con off, I think they deserve credit for putting the comfort of their guests before the huge electricity bills they must get.
Next, lets talk about storage. I have never stayed anywhere that has anything like enough places or space to put the mountain of camera/computer equipment I always travel with, (see my first post for details), the collection of necklaces with matching earrings that I just cannot leave home without, all my snorkelling gear and the vast quantities of make up, lotions, potions and creams that all women insist on carting around with them. So my usual solution is to dump it all over the floor.
Bary has this covered - There is a nice wide solid wood shelf running along 2 sides of my room ( which, if you remember is very spacious, so no danger of bashing your bits, as you get out of bed in the morning). Then there are 6 little shelves - 3 either side of the large mirror, handy for putting on make up/doing your hair. If that weren’t enough, there is a, a massive wide shelf in the bathroom, in which, the vanity basin is set with 4 large shelves underneath. My cosmetics look quite lost and lonely on the acres of space.
The final major feature is my own personal, completely private, terrace, which again, is much larger than it looked in the photos. There are 2 wooden loungers with thick, squashy cushions, a good sized low level table and a large wooden airer. The airer is also very portable, which is a good thing because I have to bring it inside at night - once the sun goes down and the humidity rises, nothing dries if it’s left outside. On the other side of my little low wall is a cold water tap, to wash the salt and sand off my snorkel gear (and my feet) and a slatted bench to store it all on.
Other nice little touches are:-
The 2 showers in the bathroom - a normal hot/cold one and an icy cold one, for when you are in danger of spontaneously combusting.
Another shower by the loo, to wash your unmentionables.
Three little bath mats, strategically placed around the room to catch any sand you might have missed, when you rinsed your feet outside.
A trendy laundry basket, so you don’t have to find somewhere to put all your grubby stuff.
2 electric mosquito zappers - which are actually working - no bites yet!!!
4 Lights, each over a different area and many switches placed around the room, so you never have to travel far to turn off a light (brilliant when you want a wee in the night.
Gorgeous shampoo, conditioner and shower gel in tasteful stoneware containers (no horrible plastic).
A box of tissues - full size and sturdy enough for a man sized nose blow.
A ceiling fan to give you a choice of cooling down options.
and………. best of all………..
10 electric plug sockets (UK and continental sizes) in the bedroom and 2 more in the bathroom all situated exactly were you are likely to need them.. I have never, in all my 64 years, stayed anywhere, with anything even remotely like enough plug sockets.
I would love to have been a fly on the wall when they were working all this out, because they genuinely, have thought of everything. I think we can safely say, that my expectations had been blown into the stratosphere.
Back to past tense now…….
Once I had absorbed the wonders of my room and unpacked ( I never ever pack the right stuff but more of that another time), I decided to save the snorkelling until the following day when I would hopefully, be feeling brighter, fresher and less jet lagged.
Instead I put in my dinner order - “grilled fish please”, organised a guided snorkel for the morning and set off on a little mini tour of the island.
I had actually intended to just go to check out the beach, take a few photos and come back, but I forgot my map, got a bit lost and ended up on the opposite side of the island.
Now as I have already mentioned Bod is very very small, so getting lost was quite an achievement and I must have done at least two or three circuits before I found my way back. I spent the remainder of the day - relaxing, eating my delicious dinner, (I’ll talk about the dining experience in my next post), drinking gallons of water and doing “computery" stuff. I had planned to have an early night, but my body, still a bit jet lagged, had other ideas. I was still sitting outside on my lovely terrace, drinking (water of course), smoking and blogging till nearly 3.00am.
But I didn’t care, tomorrow I was going snorkelling.