Maldives
Babymoon. Honeymoon. Island paradise. Dream beaches. Dream vacation.
The Maldives is an island nation: it stretches over 800 kilometers from the northernmost to the southernmost island – only slightly less than the maximum length of Germany. Between all these islands and atolls lies water. Sprinkles in the Indian Ocean. Land worn down by the waves, threatened by rising sea levels. A state without a future. At the same time, a state that is expanding, filling in artificial land and building on credit. As if there were a tomorrow to believe in.
A vacation in the Maldives throws you back to the bare minimum of existence: water, sand, and palm trees. At the same time, luxury hotels and tourism companies sell this empty wasteland as the fulfillment of being. The emptiness is quickly filled with off-the-shelf excursions into a dying water world. Water becomes a compulsive ritual: swimming in the sea, swimming in the pool. Bathtub. Diving and snorkeling. Water skiing and jet skiing. Falling off the banana boat. Admiring the ichthyofauna in the morning, grilled seafood on the beach in the evening.
The airport is chaotic. Hotel employees holding signs with their guests’ names wait in the arrivals hall. The streams of arriving tourists quickly separate: some head for the seaplane taxis, others for the harbor. And here, too, class society rears its head: private boat, public speedboat, or slow ferry? Everywhere you look, women wearing large sunglasses drag their oversized suitcases behind them while their husbands search for the right path or the right person. There are only a few families here. The Maldives is a vacation destination for lovers and couples.
Our trip on the public ferry to Dhiffushi in the north of the Malé Atoll takes over three hours. With us on the boat: a backpacker, two couples, a group of friends from Romania, and about fifteen migrant workers – all men.
On Dhiffushi, there is hardly anyone who lives more than a hundred meters away from the nearest beach. What kind of life is it when your everyday existence is confined to a mere 22 hectares? A life where there are no highways to the nearest town or to another country? Instead, there are boats sailing across the seemingly endless ocean. A world in blue and white, with only the occasional splash of green in between.
We didn’t come to Dhiffushi for the beaches. Every private hotel island has much nicer beaches to offer. We came for the locals who still live here. Because of the more or less “real” life that can be found here and there in the small alleys. Also because Dhiffushi is easily accessible from Malé and a night in a hotel can be found for a low three-digit amount.
So we spend little time in the water and instead set off every day with our camera to find the heart of the real Maldives.
Amidst all the hotels, restaurants, and tour operators, we find island life in the dusty alleys of the old village center. Simple houses surround the mosque. Their doors are always open, and the sounds of everyday family life emanate from them: clattering cookware, children’s voices, and television announcers.
Otherwise, there is not much going on: a few men are working on new hotel buildings, children are playing in the streets, and five times a day the men gather in the mosque. The distances are short, and the sound of the sea is the never-ending background music for the islanders. Every morning there is a sunrise, every evening a sunset. The sky is painted in every color imaginable – sometimes pastel, sometimes bright.
We don’t encounter any other tourists in the village center. They are lying on the beach or sitting in their hotel bar.
We take the speedboat a few kilometers out to the open sea, but at least one of the surrounding islands always remains in sight. After a while, our captain turns off the engine, lets the boat drift, and scans the water’s surface. Suddenly, a radio message comes in. He starts the engine and races off in a certain direction. More boats and ships appear, two jet skis, then even more ships. They are all loaded with tourists who stand spellbound at the railings. A murmur from one of the boats – out of the corner of our eyes, we see a black shadow disappear into the water. Silence. The sea splashes, all engines are turned off. A few hundred meters further on, they appear: dolphins. First two, then another, then suddenly a whole school. Once again, the engines are started and the chase begins. Again and again, the dolphins dive down, only to reappear a few hundred meters further on. Again and again, we chase after them, and the game continues like this several times.
Nature hangs by a thread. Can you protect and preserve something by staring at it and chasing it? What would it mean for the future of the people and the economy of this small country if the sea and its wildlife were declared a strictly protected refuge? What would the Maldives be without thousands of snorkelers, divers, surfers, and dolphin watchers?
The Maldivians also seem to be an endangered species. Most of the people we meet who work here come from Bangladesh, India, or Sri Lanka. They work for the few genuine islanders, most of whom live in the capital Malé or abroad. By selling or leasing their land, or running a hotel or restaurant, they have achieved modest wealth, enabling them to live the life of businessmen – or to indulge in endless idleness with friends on the beach.
Unlike private hotel islands, real island life also comes with trash. Traditionally, organic waste was thrown into the sea. Even today, people still throw their trash into the water, but the type of waste has changed. Whereas buildings used to be made of wood, today concrete wheelbarrows are washed up on the beach. Drinking water is only available in plastic bottles, and anyway, what isn’t wrapped in plastic and shrink-wrapped these days? Even if the garbage ends up in bins, where does it go? Dhiffushi is a tiny island, and Malé is not much bigger. If the garbage is collected by ships, the wind blows plastic into the sea. The beaches are polluted, and much of the garbage ends up in the Indian Ocean.
Less than 300 meters away from us lies the private Meeru Resort Island. Anyone who is not a guest at this island hotel complex or who has not paid for at least a day trip there is not allowed to set foot on the gleaming white sandy beaches. That’s how it is in the Maldives: there are the normal, public islands that anyone can visit. Then there are the hotel islands, some of which are artificially constructed. There are rooms and bungalows in various price ranges. There are honeymoon suites, sunrise and sunset villas, indoor and outdoor pools. There are first-class soccer fields and sports clubs, entertainment programs, and dozens of restaurants. A golden cage for sharing the same old Instagram stories. White dresses, tanned skin, wide-brimmed sun hats. The truth is, it’s all untrue. How much of the money spent here actually reaches the population of the Maldives?
Night falls. Dhiffushi is not a party island – yet the bass of house music pounds from the speakers of a jet ski rental shop. The evening belongs to the islanders. All the tourists are sitting in their hotel restaurants. We encounter only a few foreigners in the local bars and cafés that also serve food. Men gather in front of the mosque for the last prayer of the day. Families sit in the backyards of their small houses for a meal together. The barber is busy, and the baker across the street sells the last loaf of bread before closing his bakery.
And at some point, silence descends. The veil of night weighs heavily over the Indian Ocean. We are surrounded by water. There is no escaping the heaviness of the night – trapped on an island in the endless sea. The waves rush, incessantly accompanying every breath. The wind comes and goes, as do the light, the birdsong and the seasons. But the waves rush on for a lifetime and beyond.
The time has come to say goodbye to Dhiffushi. This morning, a speedboat takes us back to the capital Malé in less than forty minutes. Compared to the sleepy island paradise, Malé is a smelly, angry concrete jungle. Although the streets are too narrow, scooters and cars squeeze their way through them. The houses rise high above, blocking out the sunlight for pedestrians. Exhaust fumes, traffic jams, and honking horns – the nightmare of a big city is projected here in a tiny space. Why is it so difficult to design a city that is less than one-hundredth the size of Berlin in a sustainable and courageous way? Combustion engines instead of e-mobility. The dominance of private transport instead of smart mobility solutions. Concrete land and artificially created islands instead of sand and shell limestone. This is the past, not the dream of a beautiful future.
The artificial beach at the King Salman Mosque in eastern Malé is THE meeting place for city dwellers. Across the street, there are a variety of takeaway restaurants and cafés selling food and drinks packed in disposable wrappings. Wave breakers ensure that the small, artificially created bay with its beach becomes a calm swimming pool.
Pictures from an exhibition: A father fishing with his son, surrounded by curious men. A soccer field in the setting sun, a handful of barefoot men kicking a ball around. Park benches and a stone wall, men sitting and staring at their smartphones. A large square full of people, shouting and calling out. Men stand there in large groups. A plastic bottle in the sand, the next wave comes and takes it away. There are only a few women and children here. The Maldives is clearly a country of immigration for young, male migrant workers.
Across town to the other end. If the traffic weren’t so heavy and there weren’t all those scooters on the sidewalks, it would be a short walk. But as it is, it’s an hour-long, sensory-numbing march through the traffic chaos of the tiny capital. The north side of the island is one big landing stage for boats and ships. Locals and tourists with suitcases, bags, and luggage crowd together for hundreds of meters. The ferry engines hum loudly, the air smells of exhaust fumes, and tastes bitter.
A little further on, we come to a market hall. Naturally, almost all fruit and vegetables are imported to the Maldives. The selection of fresh food is limited, and apart from markets, there are few other sources of supply. The islands don’t really have conventional supermarkets
Fishing trawlers anchor in front of the food market. Workers are busy loading, gutting, transferring, checking, and packing fish. Across the street is Malé’s fish market – a popular stop on any sightseeing tour.
The smell in the small hall is pungent. A dozen fish filleters stand at a long table, skillfully cutting up mainly tuna. Blood runs across the floor, and fish bones and entrails pile up in a barrel. No one buys a few hundred grams of fillet here; usually, whole baskets of fish are sold.
What becomes scarce becomes expensive. This is also true of land in the Maldives. On the one hand, it is fully built up and covered with concrete. On the other hand, it is threatened by rising sea levels. The construction of a tiny artificial lagoon off Malé began. The result was the new Malé, called Hulhumalé. A bridge connects the new with the old. Office space and chic residential buildings. Empty beaches, a promenade, and quiet restaurants. Everything seems a bit deserted, not yet finished, ready for more. Is the boom still to come, or is it already over?
Buses shuttle between here and Malé, with the airport in between. Seaplanes buzz overhead as they prepare to land. Each minute is like a never-ending string of pearls.
The sun sinks into the Indian Ocean and darkness descends on Malé. Above one of the main streets, the Coca-Cola logo looms high above the rooftops of this supposed island paradise. We stand on the roof of a high-rise building and look down on this city and this country. What is paradise really all about? When you look at the local islands away from the private hotel islands, it quickly becomes clear that any paradise can only be an illusion or a concept of longing. Palm trees and sunsets are not enough to hide the “real” challenges. The Maldives must succeed in finding answers to these challenges in order to preserve itself and have a future in the rising sea.
And then it was time to go. A taxi took us to the airport. The driver told us the same story we had heard from many other islanders. The men were working, while their families were at home on one of the numerous islands. Tourists would bring money, but they would also bring problems. Everything was changing – who could say whether things would ultimately be better or worse? But the government was trying. On our next visit to the Maldives, we should come and visit him on his home island; he wanted to take us fishing. There, on his distant island, would be true paradise.
That’s more or less how the story of the Maldives goes.
Info about our trip
For most people, the Maldives are the epitome of the perfect vacation: dream beaches under palm trees, a tropical climate, and a sprawling island paradise. Add to that a villa above the sea in a luxury resort. Of course, all of this exists and is available. But the price is high, because you can quickly end up paying a four-figure sum per night for this picture-perfect dream vacation. You can save a lot of money by heading to the local islands, using public transportation, and staying in a small guesthouse. But then, in our opinion, not much of the Maldives feeling remains. For us, the overall package simply isn’t right here. Other countries also have beautiful beaches, cost only a fraction of the price and – in addition to their maritime island world – often offer a whole hinterland to explore. Perhaps it would even be good for the Maldives to focus entirely on the luxury vacation segment. The islands are already groaning under the weight of the large number of tourists. The ecosystem can hardly take any more. Backpackers are also gradually becoming aware of the island nation. But space seems limited. On Dhiffushi, we witnessed how hotels and guesthouses are increasingly pushing back the real island life. What will remain of the culture and the Maldivians in the end if they devote themselves entirely to tourism?
The Maldives are a very expensive travel destination. Anyone who wants the Maldives vacation that we all know from the travel brochures can easily spend a five-figure sum. The only way to save money in luxury resorts is to forego the overwater villa or even the beachfront villa and settle for a garden view. However, breakfast instead of all-inclusive only works on local islands, which actually offer the option of eating out. On top of that, add excursions and tips.
In our opinion, there are beaches in other countries that are at least as beautiful (Seychelles) or at least similarly beautiful (Vietnam, Thailand, Sri Lanka) – for a fraction of the price.
Food in the Maldives is heavily influenced by Indian and Sri Lankan cuisine and, in terms of ingredients, is naturally very limited. Fresh fish (especially tuna), coconut, and spices play the leading role: whether as creamy Mas Riha (fish curry), spicy Mas Huni salad with coconut and onions, or dried in many traditional dishes. Rice, Roshi (flatbread), or Garudhiya, a clear fish soup, are usually served as side dishes. The flavors are mild to slightly spicy, often combined with lime, chili, and curry leaves. Overall, Maldivian cuisine is simple, fresh, and strongly influenced by life by the sea. However, the menus also feature many Indian dishes and, of course, Western food such as burgers, pizza, pasta, and sandwiches. However, we have found that most of the dishes on the menus are often not available. Fruit and fruit shakes are also often limited to a small selection.
The situation may be different in luxury resorts and private complexes. Here, the supply is certainly different.
Let’s assume you’re dreaming of the ultimate picture-perfect vacation in the Maldives. So you want a private overwater villa in a luxury resort. Of course, you’ll need full board, because there are no other restaurants on the private resort islands. Expect to pay at least €1,000 per night. Add to that the arrival and departure by seaplane – another 500 to 1,000 euros – and the international flight to Malé. You will certainly experience a dream vacation, at least in terms of the hotel.
However, if, like us, you are more of an active vacationer and don’t plan to spend the whole day at your accommodation anyway, you will hardly be willing to pay such a high price. We deliberately chose Dhiffushi because the island is easily accessible by all means of transport, still offers a little local flair, and has a selection of affordable accommodations. Nevertheless, you should expect to pay around 150 euros per night per room (breakfast only!), which is probably the case for every island, including the capital. Of course, there may be cheaper accommodations, but we consider the price mentioned to be a good compromise.
Please note that, at least in Malé, there is an additional tax or similar charge (we don’t remember exactly) of a few percentage points on the accommodation price, which Booking.com did not show us. It is also quite common to choose accommodation with half or even full board. This makes sense on the private resort islands, but we decided against it. At least Dhiffushi offered the option of eating out better and cheaper.
The Maldives is probably one of the safest travel destinations in the world. What could possibly happen on a resort island (except in the unlikely event that one of the hotel employees steals something)? And even on the tiny local islands, there should be no problems whatsoever. The greatest danger is probably being hit by a scooter in Malé, getting badly sunburned, or injuring yourself while participating in water sports.
There’s no question about it: the Maldives is one of the top travel destinations for and with children. What could be better for the little ones than spending the whole day building sandcastles, splashing around in the sea and discovering sea creatures? Even a day in Malé should be possible, if you want to see the capital. However, you shouldn’t expect it to be family-friendly. There are no real sidewalks and traffic is heavy – so leave the stroller at home (you won’t need it on the beach anyway). You won’t find any playgrounds or even public toilets. We would guess that finding baby supplies (baby food, diapers, milk, etc.) might also be a bit more difficult. So bring everything with you.
We have said it several times before, but let’s get straight to the point: When you arrive at Malé Airport, you basically have three options for continuing your journey. However, these options depend on which atoll your island is located in and how far it is from the airport. The most expensive option (several hundred dollars one way) is a private seaplane flight directly from Malé International Airport. Alternatively, you can continue your journey from the airport by speedboat, or you can first take a taxi or shuttle boat to Malé and from there take the public, very cheap and very slow ferry to your island. Ultimately, it depends on your budget.
The city of Malé is easy to explore on foot. You can get to Hulhumale by boat, bus, or taxi. None of these options are very expensive.
Unfortunately, we are not aware of any good books about the Maldives and its history.