Tragedy Strikes

As we had decided to stay in the villa and enjoy our pool and piece of ocean, it was only natural that we would make our way into the clear, blue water surrounding our villa.  After a quick dip in the pool, I donned my fins, snorkel and mask and darted about in front of our villa like a hyperactive fish, while Olga slowly swam around, basking in the sunshine and generally enjoying the peace and quiet. 

Roughly 20 minutes into my adventures, I decided to come back to the villa and take in the scenery from the pool and surround myself with the relaxing feeling of bubbles.  I made my way near the villa and as I stood to remove my fins near the steps, I lost my balance.  As you typically do in 3 feet of water, I flailed my hands through the water to regain balance, but to my left was a small coral just under the surface.  As I flapped around trying to regain my balance, I dragged my finger across the top of said coral.  This was bad, very bad. 

Now, this may not sound like a big deal, but if you know coral, those little bastards are like razors and cut deep.  Worse yet, since they are living organisms, they leave a little something behind that if not removed immediately can cause serious infections.  After a series of explicatives, I looked down to see the blood draining from my finger.  I asked Olga to grab a towel and call Hushy, as I knew that this cut was deep, already infected and would need a professional. 

As we waited for Hushy and the Doctor, I began to feel really depressed.  If the cut needed stitches, I would not be allowed back in the water.  Not only would it suck on a major scale to be in the Maldives and not be allowed to swim, but I could feel the diving experience slipping away, as well.

The doctor arrived and confirmed that the cut would need dressed and treated properly.  She, did, though, say that I could swim again as soon as tomorrow, but she rather I did not for a couple days.  Ha!  She dressed it the best she could to keep it safe in the water and I promised to stay dry for the rest of the day. 

In the end, I have a huge white bandage on my finger, which looks rather ridiculous and is a huge inconvenience, but all said, I am cleared to dive, so I am not too upset! 

The Arrival

Today started out with hope and optimism.  The day was breaking beautifully as we awoke at 6:30am in preparation for our final leg to paradise.  We fueled up at the breakfast buffet and put the finishing touches on the suitcases.  Like children on Christmas morning, we rushed down to the lobby eager to begin.

The journey to the airport was the exact reverse of the night prior.  Car, then boat.  This time, though, it was in the daylight and we could see, for the first time, the beauty of the Maldives.  As the boat pushed off, you could see right through the cerulean, clear water directly to the bottom.  It looked as if the boat was floating on glass.  Between Male and the airport, the water was turned a deep, calm blue by the depth and struck a dramatic contrast with the shallower, clearer coastal area.  It was a perfect backdrop!

We arrived at the open-air, airport terminal and were greeted by the resort guide who stewarded us through the check-in process.  Said check-in process consisted of a makeshift desk with a guy and a van parked behind him.  The guy issued the ticket and loaded your bags onto the van.  Hum?  If we had not been accompanied by the resort rep, I may have been a tad more skeptical.  We were then given to a driver who loaded us into a very nice minivan and briefly shuttled us around the backside of the airport to the seaplane terminal.

Passed off again, we were now in the capable hands of another resort employee.  The resort smartly runs a private lounge in the terminal to ensure their guests are made comfortable throughout the journey.  It was smallish, but has a nice bathroom and the attendant brought you any non-alcoholic beverage you liked.  The lounge faced the harbor of seaplanes and one had the option of sitting outside on the veranda and watching their comings and goings. Finally, though, our plane was ready and we were beckoned to board. 

Olga waiting in the Resort's Airport Lounge

The plane was small and sat around 15 people.  It was slight cramped, relatively hot and really, really loud.  That said, the views were spectacular en route since it flew at a relatively low altitude.  You got a grand view of the entire archipelago ensemble.  We made one stop at a neighboring resort to offload some passengers and then finally, we touched down into the azure waters of Anantara Kihavah. 

Our Island

The plane pulled up to a floating platform roughly 200 yards offshore and unloaded the remaining few passengers.   We were promptly met by a boat and greeting by our personal concierge, Hushy (pronounced Who-Shi).  We boarded the boat and after cool, scented face towels and water, were treated to an overview of the resort.  I heard nothing.  I was completely memorized by the surroundings.  The view from the boat looked like something out of a Hollywood movie … a really good Hollywood movie.  The boat ride cleverly took us around ½ of the island just to get the full effect – They had me at hello.  We eventually pulled up to a long, stately, wooden pier and were guided off the boat.  We had, in fact, arrived!

The floating platform and the plane loading people on their way home

The boat coming to pick us up

Our Island as seen from the boat

We troddled down the gangway and on the sandy shores where Hushy drove us through a sandy network of narrow byways that stealthily cut through the lush jungle.  We emerged from the brush at the entry to the water villas.  The villas sit on an oval shaped dock-way that splits in the middle with villas on either side.  Hushy led us to ours, about half way down the right side.

First steps on the Island

Leaving the jungle and on to the dock

The villas

From the front, the villas look quite plain with darken wooden facets and an imposing double door, but once inside … Holy crap!  You enter into a large arched-ceiling foyer which, behind a beautifully crafted sideboard, contains your full stocked wine refrigerator, your regular mini-fridge and your cupboard of goodies – none of which we could afford.  It also had a coffee maker and an electric kettle for tea – which we could afford, because it was complimentary.    This area also served as your junction between the large bedroom and the enormous bathroom & changing areas. 

The entryway - to the left is the bathroom
Straight ahead the bedroom and ocean

Straight ahead through an arched doorway is the bedroom.  This is a huge room with a 20 foot cathedral ceiling and a king size bed right in the middle.  The bed is surrounded by other furniture, TV, desk, etc, but they are all done in the dark wood of the Southern Indian Ocean giving the room a particularly exotic feel.  There is also a comfy daybed flanked by stained glass windows in a bumpout just in case you wnt to take a nap inside. As hotel rooms go, it was splendid, but the bedroom, believe it or not, was not the real attraction.  What surrounded it really that made it spectacular.

Entering the bedroom and standing behind the bed 

Looking at the two sliding doors
Ocean in front and pool to the left

The pool from the bedroom
No sleepwalking here!

On the bed looking out at the sea
Note the giant bed-swing - great for napping!

On the left side of the room, through a pair of large, wooden sliding doors, was a private, infinity pool sparkling in the sunlight. The pool abutted the doorframe, so you were either in the room or in the pool (more on the pool later).  Facing forward, there were two more large, disappearing, sliding doors through which spilled forth a large veranda, complete with a huge bed-swing, table and chairs and three hammocks which hung out over the water.  This veranda then led to another veranda about 4 feet below which housed your lounge chairs and umbrella for sunbathing.  Behind the lounges was the aforementioned pool, but the level with the lounges was low enough as not to impede your view if you were floating in the pool.  To tie it all together, there, then were stairs the fed into the sea another 4 feet below.  The stairs ran to the lower veranda and then along the far side of the pool terminating at a glass door into the bathroom behind it all

The lower vernada

Looking up from the lower veranda

The bedroom and veranda from the pool

The second veranda in front of the pool

One of the three hammocks the jut out from the top veranda

The verandas from the pool

Ah, the bathroom!  Leaving the entry foyer to the left, you pass through a small arched hall with separate his & her dressing rooms on either side.   You enter the bathroom through a huge twin pocket door, arched ingress and step into a massive space with a 25 foot cathedral ceiling.  There is a lounging couch in the middle of the room with separate toilet and shower rooms at the back.  There are two separate vanities on either side of a large glass door that leads to a second shower … outside! But really, the outside shower is a side show compared to the tub.  Sunken into the floor, it is located directly in front of yet another wall of sliding glass doors that completely disappear giving the bather a full view over the pool and out into the sea.  The most amazing part is that the tub has a glass bottom, so you can see the ocean directly beneath you (I know, so many questions about seeing the other way).

Looking over the pool to the bathroom

The bathroom
Note the sunken tube right inside the door and the shower with a view on the right

The bathroom as entered from the foyer
Toilet on the left and shower on the right - The divot in the ceiling is a shower head

To the left are the vanities and outdoor shower
beneath the shower is the sea - note the glass panel on the floor 

The tub

The glass bottom of the tube
What you see there is the ocean bottom - what the fish see is your bottom!

The shower is also unique in that the rain showerhead is in the ceiling of the shower enclave… 15 feet above you and is fronted by a ginormous glass window, so you can continue to enjoy your views even whilst showering.  The toilet room next door also shares the same view thanks to a huge pass-through between the two.  The toilet also benefits from having a glass floor, so you can enjoy both views! 

Lastly, there is the pool that is tucked into the corner that the bedroom and bathroom create.  It is about 15 feet by 26 feet and about 3 feet deep.  On the backside, next to the bathroom and facing the ocean, there is an underwater bench equipped with soothing massage jets, so if sitting on your private lounge chair or on your bed-swing is not enough to take in the views, you can submerge yourself in your pool and enjoy a Jacuzzi.  It is serious overkill, but anything worth doing is worth doing in a pool with a Jacuzzi bench!

The pool - wedge in between the bathroom and bedroom
You can almost see the long bench in the back 

The pool looking forward

After being given the tour of the villa, Hushy did our paperwork and disappeared to allow us to relax and enjoy our surroundings.  We lounged, sat, and laid about for a short while and then decided to head down to the dive center to get all the paperwork ready for the week.  With this done, we grabbed lunch and retired to the villa for some afternoon swimming and more lounging.  We finally made it and it exceeded every expectation we had! 

That is, until the accident …

The Trip Begins

After months of planning and obsessive reviewing and researching of websites, travel logs and reviews, we finally are on our way to the Maldives!

I will spare you all the typically groaning about flying out of India except these two nibblets.  First, Indians have a really hard time with row numbers.  Seriously, every flight within, into or out of India, 70% of the passengers needs directed to their row.  Finding a row is not rocket science – you look at the bold number on your ticket stub and match is to the brightly lit or boldly placed number above the row.  This task, though, always seems a bit too much for the Indians.

The second thing is a plea to Indian wives.  When your husband is leaving the house to catch a flight and he smells like a pair of old running shoes and rotten eggs, please, please tell him, march him back into the house and insist he bathes!  Every non-Indian, Airline passenger in the subcontinent will thank you.  There is simply something to be said for personal hygiene and a lot more to be said about the lack of it.  Being cooped up in a plane with 250 Indians stinking to high-hell is just not unfair, it’s torture. 

Anyway, Olga brought the repurposed White Flower Oil to rub under our noses thus replacing Indian BO with the soothing smell of menthol, eucalyptus and other medicinal fragrances and we settled back to watch Season 6 of Weeds!  It was not bliss, but it was as close as we were going to get.  It is amazing the simple high we now get from just leaving India.   

We arrived in Male, the capital of the Republic of the Maldives at around 12:30am after a brief transfer in Sri Lanka.  The airport is a simple terminal and apparently if you are not smuggling in pork or porn, you fly through customs pretty fast.  We were staying in Male for one night as the seaplanes on which we need to travel only flys in the daytime.  Our Male hotel, Traders, met us as we exited customs and whisked us to the hotel, not in the usual black Mercedes, but in a boat.

Since the Maldives are just a series of small, non-connected islands, each island has a function.  The airport, which seems to be a few islands land-filled together, sits about a 10-minute boat ride from the main island on which the city of Male resides.  It is a very cool arrangement.

Tired and hungry, we boarded the boat for our jaunt across the open ocean in the middle of the night.  We pulled up to a sea wall and were happily greeted by a woman from the hotel, confirming our identities and then easing us into a car for the 1-minute ride to the airport. 

The air was fresh, the people seemed efficient and we had left the BO ridden passengers somewhere in Sri Lanka.  All was right with the world!

Anticipation!

Anticipation.  It may the best part of a vacation.  Today we leave on a vacation we actually planned 12 years ago, so the build up is a little high on this one. 

12 years ago, when my wife and I first decided to get married, we thought about a honeymoon.  We were living in Russia at the time and thought the Maldives looked like a pretty good place to spend a week or so.  It was not too far away and, more importantly, seemed like a pretty relaxing get-a-way. 

The idea was that we would be married in Russia by the Ministry of Marriages (you can’t make this stuff up) in one of those Soviet style buildings (as one does in Russia) and head directly off to our tropical paradise.  As with the best-laid plans, this never happened, because the Ministry of Marriages would not process our paperwork.

You have to remember, this was the post-Soviet era and everyone had “privatized” their respective departments.  The ministry of marriage was no exception.  In our first meeting with said ministry, I was asked to produce a government issued document that stated that I had never been married.  At first this seemed ridiculous, but then I realized that, once again, we were playing the bribe game.  I argued there was no such document and she argued nothing could be done without it.  The culmination of the game is when the bribee offers, out of the goodness of their heart, to make the obstacle go away for a small fee – cash only, of course.  This time, though, I was not playing. It was one thing to ask for a bribe to get out of a traffic ticket or to get a good seat at the theater (I had come to except and expense these as routine), but to mess with a person’s marriage was too much.  I gave the woman a serious lecture and stormed out … thus ended any chance of ever being married in Russia. 

Not long after, my posting in Russia ended and we decided it was easier just to get married in the US.  After returning, we drove out to Alexandria VA, got the license, scooted across the street to the Justice of the Peace and were married.  The next morning we went to Disney World! 

So, you can image, the one place we, as a couple have always dreamed of, is now at our fingertips and the hype is just too much to bear.  Hopefully, the substance matches the sizzle!

The Summer of Swimming

When I was young, I had the privilege of spending every summer on a lake in New York and attending the oldest continuous day camp in the United States, the Chautauqua Boys and Girls Club. My sisters went there; My parents went there; My uncles and aunts on both sides went there. The experience through these generations was quintessentially the same - you played field games, you sailed, you paddled canoes and you swam.

Now, I was game for most of the aforementioned activities, but when it came to swimming, I was not overly keen on climbing into the murky, cold lake water at 10:00am and wading over the silt and seaweed bottom to learn how to float on my back. I dreaded it. My first year, I was excused due to tubes in my ears, but for the remaining 9 years, I spent a disproportionate amount of energy charming my way out the mandatory morning swim.

This was not to say, I could not swim. Growing up on a lake, the ability to move through the water became part of your DNA. You did not have to set Olympic records, but you had to at least be comfortable in the water. Comfort levels varied and mine hovered around trending water and the forward movement not unlike the elderly at the local retirement center. It met the minimum requirement.

So, even though I spent the first 18 summers of my life on a lake, I never learned how to swim properly. This year, the 44th year of my existence, I decided to do what I was supposed to do (and my parents paid for) 35 years ago. I learned to swim ... correctly! This, by the way, was no easy feat. Firstly, I was in India, so it was not like I could run down to the local YMCA and grab an instructor and, secondly, I may in fact be in a bit less shape than I was at 9.

I addressed the first issue with modern technology and found a great internet site call swimsmooth.com that walked you through all you needed to know about becoming a capable swimmer. Since I was not a complete stranger to the water, the basics came quickly, albeit awkwardly and, in some cases, painfully due to the second issue. I was simply out of shape.

Almost every night since May, I have lugged myself to the American Embassy pool and clawed though the water perfecting a mediocre crawl. Each week, I added a little more distance. I started with one pool length of 25 yards and a few weeks ago actually crossed the 1/2 mile milestone without stopping.

There is another reason that I have focused so much on swimming this summer. At the end of this week, Olga and I will go to the Maldives where I will get certified as an Open Water Diver. This is something I have wanted to do for many years, but never got around to it. Actually, to be honest, I have simply avoided it, since one of the requirements is you must be able to swim 200 yards non-stop and until now, I just couldn’t do it!   

The New Car Expereince

Buying a car is always an adventure. Sometimes it turns out well and other times it is just a serious pain in the butt. Overall, though, I usually enjoy the process and the challenge. For this reason, I was looking forward to getting a new car in India. The current car, a 3 year old Ford Endeavor (think a jungle-ready explorer, but not as comfortable) has run its run. Poorly built to begin with, its complete lack of suspension has reduced the remaining bits, and my back, to rubble. It is time to retire the Ford.

The old Battlewagon and Kailash, the driver

The stable of replacements in India is very limited due to the huge import tax that is levied on everything to protect the burgeoning domestic industry. As well, we had to decide whether to replace it with another SUV or go the sedan route. This is a more difficult decision here than back in the US, because the roads here actually challenge a SUV unlike the manicured roads of the US. Add the monsoons and you actually have rivers and lakes to traverse. The trade-off for all this go-anywhere capability is a painfully stiff and jilting ride. In order to get an SUV that is not based on a truck, you have to move into a stratospheric price range and, since we are a discount retailer and not Goldman Sachs, paying $115,000 for an Audi Q5 is not in the cards.

Based on the bone-jarring rides we took in two available SUVs, the Toyota Fortuner and the Hyundai Santa Fe, it was decided to go the sedan route. Who needs 3 rows of seating anyhow? It is just the two of us. So we began to look at sedans and this is where the fun started.

First of all, you must schedule a test drive, because they bring the car to you, rather then you going to the showroom. This is actually pretty convenient. The car arrives with the driver and salesman (it would be absurd for the salesman to actually drive the car himself, duh!) and they turn the vehicle over to you and your driver for the test drive. This is actually great, because you get to drive it over familiar road and in conditions that you experience every day. I am sure that was not the intention, but quite convenient, none the less.

Secondly, the test drive is very different. Since I have a driver, the driver does the driving and I sit happily in the back and evaluate the car from the perspective of the driven. That puts a whole new set of expectations around the vehicle. Where I would usually be concerned with power and handling, I am not evaluating for legroom and ride compliance. I used to love the growl of the engine, but now want silence. Where before, I wanted a hard, sports suspension, I now want a floating, wafting, magic carpet ride. I longed for the Cadillacs of Grandpa Frank!

Based on these new criteria, we limited our selection to three cars: Toyota Camry, Volkswagen Passat and the Skoda Superb. Three very different formulas to get to an adequate solution to the Indian transport problem. The Toyota is simply the benchmark in quality, but the model they have here is an older model and seems outdated compared to German and Czech contenders. As well, the backseat was the smallest – a deal breaker! The Passat was the best to drive (according to my driver) with much more power than then others and a slew of features that would make even the most advanced car jealous – the damn thing even parks itself with the aid of a camera that pokes out from under the oversized VW trunk badge. Very cool!

In the end, we decided to go with the cutting edge of Czech technology. To be fair, Skoda was purchased by VW over a decade ago and the Superb is simply a refitted Passat in a more passenger friendly package. Firstly, the rear leg room is massive – almost limousine like. I can cross my legs and my foot comes nowhere near the front seat. As well, the ride is much more compliant than the Passat. The Skoda floats undisturbed over the imperfections (read massive holes) of the Delhi roads. A huge plus. Finally, although the VW comes with a ton of kit for the driver, the Skoda is more backseat passenger oriented with the aforementioned leg room, a center console that shows the time and outside temperature and a nifty umbrella that fits into a custom made storage compartment in the left door panel to allow it to drain outside. You just can’t argue with that kind of innovation.

In India, you do not get to choose options. You choose your model and your engine and the rest is preselected. Even colors are restricted to the model and engine size. We choose the 2.0T Diesel, so we had the choice of Red, White, Black, Mocha (metallic, deep brown) and Amethyst (light, metallic lavender). You had to go to the V6 petrol engine to get the silver paint! The interior for all colors is Ivory – beautiful, but maybe not the best choice for the dirtiest and dustiest city in the world. Based on the above choices, we went with Mocha.

Once the model, engine and color have been selected, I turned the negotiating over to the experts. My assistant stepped in and began the haggling. Since the prices are fixed, in India we haggle over the other things – mats, mudguards, car cover, etc – to be thrown in for free. This went on for a few days and we, as expected, got everything we wanted and many that we did not. One was a rear foot rest. I am not sure what this is, but we got it and I am excited to use it … I think.

As of today, we have placed the deposit (and by we, I mean the company, since they are technically the owners) and now we wait for delivery. We expect to see it before we leave on vacation on Friday, but this is India, so one never knows how the story ends until it is over!

Holiday Season!

Evil Ravana


In the American Northeast, the first snow is a major seasonal milestone. It signals the beginning of winter and, for most, the onset of the holiday season. After the first snow, you are comfortable in the thought that Thanksgiving is right around the corner - soon to be followed by Christmas and New Years. Especially as a kid, this was a great time.

In India, the change of the seasons also ushers in the holiday season. The change and the holidays are different, but the effect is similar. Today was one of those days. As I left my apartment and began the journey down to the car, I noticed that it was actually pleasant. I was not sweating; I was not gasping for breath from the oppressive humidity; I was actually comfortable! This was the Delhi equivalent of the first snow.

As I paused for a moment to enjoy the sensation of being outside and not sweating, I reflected on the upcoming holidays. In two weeks, on October 6th, Dussehra will kick off the holiday season. Dussehra is technically a 10 day event that celebrates the triumph of a few gods over evil culminating with "victory day" called Dussehra or Vijayadashmi. This is a significant holiday on the Hindu calendar, but I cannot recall any festivities from last year.

We then have Diwali, the grand-daddy of Indian Holidays on Oct 26th with a few gratuitous days around it, like Balipadyami and Bhai Duj to pad out the week. November starts with Rajyaotsava Day on the 1st, Idu'l Zuha on the 7th and the much anticipated Guru Nanak's Birthday to which we were roused from our beds last year with a parade at 7:00am. Finally, we wind down with Muharram on December 6th.

They may not, at first, seem to have the allure of Thanksgiving and Christmas (who amongst us would not prefer a burning Yule log to a burning effigy of the evil King Ravana), but as I grow older, I tend to measure holidays in relaxation time versus impact and these Indian Holidays, I can tell, will be a welcome respite to the daily grind!