Hurrah! Huraa Bound!
After an uneventful one and half hour flight from Trivandrum International Airport, I was finally in Malé, the capital of Maldives. Not actually Malé, but Hulhulmalé which hosts the international airport, an artificial island near Malé, to accommodate the ever-expanding population of Maldivians in a country where the water to land ratio is increasingly becoming skewed as more of this archipelago of atolls sinks every year.
Standing in the queue at Maldivian immigration at Ibrahim Nasir International Airport, Malé, I noticed a couple from my home state behind me, obviously here on a work permit, considering that so few Indians prefer Maldives as a holiday destination. I took the opportunity to ask the man some questions in our native language and he was all too happy answer, though he was clueless about the island resort or Huraa Island where I was supposed to go in the next couple of hours. Still he did tell me that I most probably would have to take a boat to Malé island, maybe cross over to the other side of Malé by taxi and catch a ferry at the ferry terminal. But it was only a guess, he told me; he only knew about the island where he worked.
When my turn came at international immigration, the officer a severe man of few words with an Asian accent, asked me whether I was here for business or for pleasure. Since I didn't have a work permit or a business visa, the answer was obvious, especially after the emigration form I had filled up on the flight and the lodge reservations. Then he asked me a question that floored me. "You are here alone?", he asked.
For a moment I was nonplussed. I thought, irrationally, that perhaps single people are not supposed to visit a honeymooner's paradise like Maldives, so I stammered back, "Well, I am not married, so I am alone...!"
He looked sternly at me and asked again, "That's not my question. Are you alone?"
I was alone as was there for all to see, but I replied affirmatively.
He didn't check my health insurance, my booking at the hotels or whether I carried the requisite dollars with me for my stay, and with an exasperated look he let me go, after stamping the requisite visa-on-arrival on the passport.
Finally I was in Maldives!
Inside the airport I asked man in police uniform how I could proceed to Huraa Island, Kaafu atoll where I had confirmed hotel bookings - lodge actually. He said he had never heard of Huraa Island, but said he could take me to the police outpost to find out. I politely declined. This was so typical of most Maldivians - very few knew names of islands other than their own, and often there were islands with the same name in different atolls to add to the confusion.
Emerging out of the airport complex, which was not really very big, I was greeted by a pleasant but balmy breeze blowing across a seafront with speed boats and ferries docking and un-docking every few minutes just in front of the airport terminal. The ferries were for Malé island, the capital, whereas the speed boats in all shapes and sizes were exclusive private transport for many of the resorts that dot all of Maldives. All part of the adventure!
There were a couple of young European ladies, clad in skimpy trousers and low cut sleeveless T-shirts and jackets,smoking on the seafront as they waited for their ferry or their connecting flight to the island resorts, at the adjacent domestic airport. Most were Europeans, some Chinese, evident from the accented English they were speaking, not even British and no Americans at all - America was going to the polls at the moment. Joining the group, I took out my e-cigarette and took a couple of puffs. I noticed the sea water was a deep crystal clear aquamarine, bereft of flotsam or junk receding into a brilliant sapphire in the distance.
As I had tea and munched on some Masroshi - a favourite nutritious snack for Maldivians, consisting of fried grated fish and coconut sandwiched between two bread slices similar to our 'roti', I was joined by a Maldivian who preferred to be called by his nickname 'Murrey'. He was my point of contact for the second Island where I would be staying - Gan Island, and he made me comfortable taking about India and Trivandrum and had come to see me just to check if all was well. Most Maldivians are ignorant about India just as we are of them, though the two countries are separated by a few hundred kilometres of sea; when asked about India they wonder wistfully about it like some long lost distant cousin. However this particular guy was more knowledgeable, being a business representative and having been to India several times, particularly Trivandrum, and had a good grasp of Indian politcs as well.
I took the ferry to Malé, paying a few roofiyah from the twenty five dollars worth that I had diligently converted at the Bank of Maldives counter at the airport.
The ferry ride to Malé was smooth and the ferry men polite and accommodating, telling me where to deposit my baggage. The ferry docked at Malé and as I walked on the neat stone paved roads of Malé city with two wheelers of all sizes, colours and makes neatly parked on either side, I marvelled how Malé resembled a tropical version of a typical quaint European town.
The seafront was dotted with German, Swiss and other European banks and firms and a couple of eateries. Yes, there was State Bank of India and a Titan shop too!
I asked a policeman moving aimlessly around on a bike how I could get to Huraa island. As expected, he was clueless. Making a few false starts, finally I took a taxi to Villingili Boat Terminal at the other end of Malé, awaiting my one hour ferry ride to Huraa Island. The taxi rates were standard, and wherever you go on Malé island, from anywhere, the rates are the same and there is no cheating or bargaining.
I bought a ferry ticket at the ferry terminal counter operated by the Maldivian government and hence cheap, and awaited exhausted as well as exhilarated for my sojourn to Huraa Island!
Standing in the queue at Maldivian immigration at Ibrahim Nasir International Airport, Malé, I noticed a couple from my home state behind me, obviously here on a work permit, considering that so few Indians prefer Maldives as a holiday destination. I took the opportunity to ask the man some questions in our native language and he was all too happy answer, though he was clueless about the island resort or Huraa Island where I was supposed to go in the next couple of hours. Still he did tell me that I most probably would have to take a boat to Malé island, maybe cross over to the other side of Malé by taxi and catch a ferry at the ferry terminal. But it was only a guess, he told me; he only knew about the island where he worked.
When my turn came at international immigration, the officer a severe man of few words with an Asian accent, asked me whether I was here for business or for pleasure. Since I didn't have a work permit or a business visa, the answer was obvious, especially after the emigration form I had filled up on the flight and the lodge reservations. Then he asked me a question that floored me. "You are here alone?", he asked.
For a moment I was nonplussed. I thought, irrationally, that perhaps single people are not supposed to visit a honeymooner's paradise like Maldives, so I stammered back, "Well, I am not married, so I am alone...!"
He looked sternly at me and asked again, "That's not my question. Are you alone?"
I was alone as was there for all to see, but I replied affirmatively.
He didn't check my health insurance, my booking at the hotels or whether I carried the requisite dollars with me for my stay, and with an exasperated look he let me go, after stamping the requisite visa-on-arrival on the passport.
Finally I was in Maldives!
Inside the airport I asked man in police uniform how I could proceed to Huraa Island, Kaafu atoll where I had confirmed hotel bookings - lodge actually. He said he had never heard of Huraa Island, but said he could take me to the police outpost to find out. I politely declined. This was so typical of most Maldivians - very few knew names of islands other than their own, and often there were islands with the same name in different atolls to add to the confusion.
Emerging out of the airport complex, which was not really very big, I was greeted by a pleasant but balmy breeze blowing across a seafront with speed boats and ferries docking and un-docking every few minutes just in front of the airport terminal. The ferries were for Malé island, the capital, whereas the speed boats in all shapes and sizes were exclusive private transport for many of the resorts that dot all of Maldives. All part of the adventure!
There were a couple of young European ladies, clad in skimpy trousers and low cut sleeveless T-shirts and jackets,smoking on the seafront as they waited for their ferry or their connecting flight to the island resorts, at the adjacent domestic airport. Most were Europeans, some Chinese, evident from the accented English they were speaking, not even British and no Americans at all - America was going to the polls at the moment. Joining the group, I took out my e-cigarette and took a couple of puffs. I noticed the sea water was a deep crystal clear aquamarine, bereft of flotsam or junk receding into a brilliant sapphire in the distance.
As I had tea and munched on some Masroshi - a favourite nutritious snack for Maldivians, consisting of fried grated fish and coconut sandwiched between two bread slices similar to our 'roti', I was joined by a Maldivian who preferred to be called by his nickname 'Murrey'. He was my point of contact for the second Island where I would be staying - Gan Island, and he made me comfortable taking about India and Trivandrum and had come to see me just to check if all was well. Most Maldivians are ignorant about India just as we are of them, though the two countries are separated by a few hundred kilometres of sea; when asked about India they wonder wistfully about it like some long lost distant cousin. However this particular guy was more knowledgeable, being a business representative and having been to India several times, particularly Trivandrum, and had a good grasp of Indian politcs as well.
I took the ferry to Malé, paying a few roofiyah from the twenty five dollars worth that I had diligently converted at the Bank of Maldives counter at the airport.
The ferry ride to Malé was smooth and the ferry men polite and accommodating, telling me where to deposit my baggage. The ferry docked at Malé and as I walked on the neat stone paved roads of Malé city with two wheelers of all sizes, colours and makes neatly parked on either side, I marvelled how Malé resembled a tropical version of a typical quaint European town.
The seafront was dotted with German, Swiss and other European banks and firms and a couple of eateries. Yes, there was State Bank of India and a Titan shop too!
I asked a policeman moving aimlessly around on a bike how I could get to Huraa island. As expected, he was clueless. Making a few false starts, finally I took a taxi to Villingili Boat Terminal at the other end of Malé, awaiting my one hour ferry ride to Huraa Island. The taxi rates were standard, and wherever you go on Malé island, from anywhere, the rates are the same and there is no cheating or bargaining.
I bought a ferry ticket at the ferry terminal counter operated by the Maldivian government and hence cheap, and awaited exhausted as well as exhilarated for my sojourn to Huraa Island!
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