2 The Moon Upside Down
The sun streaming in through the porthole woke me at dawn; we were still a little way from landing and were flying over the Indian Ocean. As I looked out, still half-asleep, I woke up immediately and almost shouted, “Wake up, love! Look outside: there are so many egg yolks surrounded by egg whites.”
The sky, a deep blue streaked with rare, thin clouds as fine as silk threads, was reflected in the sea, dotted with hundreds of atolls of every shape.
I snuggled up against your shoulder to admire with you that immense expanse of water stretching into infinity, while we traced words of love on each other’s arms with our fingers.
We were entranced by this spectacle of nature, and if we hadn’t been in the company of hundreds of passengers, I don’t know what might have happened.
At the mere thought of it, I returned to my seat, just in time to have breakfast and receive my arrival card from the flight attendant.
After finishing our meal, we went to the restroom to freshen up a bit and change our clothes.
The captain had announced that temperatures of around 40 degrees with humidity no lower than 80% awaited us at the airport; luckily, we’d been told that the temperature on the islands would be more pleasant.
Trying to carve out some space to change inside the cramped bathroom stall, I put on denim Bermuda shorts, a pink-and-white tank top, and Indian flip-flops.
When I returned to my seat, I almost didn’t recognize you: you’d opted for a pair of white linen pants and a light blue Lacoste polo shirt.
Twenty minutes before landing, the flight attendants walked through the aisles carrying spray cans filled with a substance designed to kill all germs. They explained that it would be harmless to people.
A few minutes later, we landed at Malé International Airport. The runway stretched the entire length of the island, and it occurred to me that if the plane hadn’t stopped in time, we would have taken an unplanned dip.
We descended the boarding stairs and were I was suddenly breathless by the suffocating heat, which was soon alleviated by the air conditioning in the hangar housing the customs offices.
Once all the disembarkation formalities were completed, we finally stepped outside onto the harbor pier, greeted by a light, steady drizzle that faded within a few minutes.
The ocean water was an unimaginable grass-green and was dotted with dozens of yachts, ready to ferry travelers to their personal paradises.
I sat down on my suitcase to gaze out at the expanse of water; I couldn’t take my eyes off that soothing sight until your hand gently stroked my head.
I brought it to my lips and pressed a kiss on it, whispering to you, “Welcome to paradise. Feel free to leave your wings at the baggage claim—mine will be enough for you to fly.”
Looking at me with amusement, you replied, “I’ll never stop being surprised when I hear you say things like that; not even I can go that far.”
I smiled at you, lowering my gaze; every word you spoke enriched my soul, and I could never get enough of them.
The pier was crowded with yacht crews mingling among the tourists who had just arrived in Malé.
Each of them carried a sign bearing the name of the resort they belonged to, and you had just spotted the name of ours.
Gently tugging me by the arm to rouse me from the emotional slumber I’d taken refuge in, you prepared to greet our “soul ferries” with a smile.
The “sea taxi”—as the yacht was called throughout the Maldives—turned out to be a very respectable vessel.
We boarded it with some difficulty, and once we’d fastened our seatbelts and put on our life jackets, the boat set off, kicking up a cloud of salty spray.
After a thorough explanation from the crew regarding the procedures to follow in case of an emergency, we were told that the trip would take about two hours.
We settled in by the windows, ready to spot flying fish, turtles, manta rays, and sharks.
The images flashing by so quickly left us no time to take in what we were seeing.
The atolls seemed to whiz by along an imaginary highway, and we competed to see who could spot the next one first.
The variety of islets was so vast that we couldn’t immediately pick out any one in particular.
Each one captured our attention, perhaps because we’d never seen anything like them before.
Our hopes of seeing exotic animals far from the Mediterranean shipping lanes were partly fulfilled by the appearance of flying fish, which skimmed the surface of the sea for a long stretch before disappearing into the small ripples created by our passage.
Almost two hours had passed, and I was beginning to miss the feeling of solid ground beneath my feet.
The island awaiting us was located in the last atoll south of Malé: we were practically right on the equator, and the thought of being so close to the open ocean was filling me with fear.
Upon reaching the penultimate atoll, the yacht turned left to slip through an opening in the coral reef.
An otherworldly silence greeted us, and the sight that met our eyes made us all rise from our seats in unison as an immense expanse of crystal-clear water opened up before us.
Despite the intense glare of the light on the water, we could make out the pier not far away, where a few people were waving to us joyfully.
We disembarked with hesitation and a sense of awe toward that paradise that looked like something straight out of a postcard.
The brochure I’d devoured with my eyes before leaving stated that the Rihiveli resort was French-run and rated as a five-star superior property.
It was one of the most luxurious and exclusive resorts in the Maldives, but also one of the wildest and most isolated from the rest of the country.
The staff were already ready to welcome us with hugs and kisses, equipped with small bags in which to store our shoes.
One of the island’s rules prohibited the wearing of shoes, and this alone was already making me happy. The other rule was the absence of news from the outside world for the entire duration of our stay.
Once we’d disembarked and been welcomed by the staff, we looked out at the small wooden pier connected to the mainland by a path of pure white, powdery sand that we’d have to walk along.
I’d always loved sinking my hands into something soft, and without a moment’s hesitation, I scooped up a handful of sand and let it trickle down the hair on your arm, turning it white.
My spontaneous gesture, however, seemed to take a back seat.
You seemed speechless as you looked to your left at two deserted islands that appeared to float in the lagoon, and with a faint, newly found voice, you managed to whisper to me, “You were right: if you don’t see it, you don’t believe it.”
With my legs trembling like those of a ballerina making her stage debut, I had meanwhile taken off my shoes to sink my feet into the sand. The cool sensation pleasantly surprised me; evidently, the sand’s coral origin explained why it wasn’t scorching hot, even though it was bathed in sunlight.
We handed our suitcases to the staff and began walking along the long strip of sand that seemed to emerge from the water and led to the main island.
An otherworldly silence was guiding us toward our paradise; no one dared to interrupt that unexpected state of bliss until, as we neared the beach, I broke the spell by asking our guides to wait a moment.
I euphorically took your hand and pulled you toward a two-seater swing where I wanted to take a photo of us together.
I wasn’t in the habit of capturing the magical moments I was sometimes lucky enough to experience, but this was certainly a special occasion.
We followed a few sandy paths that wound through the tropical vegetation until we reached our bungalow.
The roof was covered with palm leaves, the interior was made of wood and masonry, and the bathroom was in typical Maldivian style.
In the center of the rather spacious room stood a king-size bed with high sides, filled with enormous feather pillows arranged haphazardly.
They left our luggage there and invited us to head to the bar, where lunch reserved just for the two of us would be served.
The journey and the overwhelming emotions had left us exhausted; the desire to immerse ourselves in that world so far removed from civilization was draining what little energy we had left.
We looked at our suitcases, but the urge to unpack them had vanished as if by magic.
I felt drained; I hadn’t been able to get the sleep I needed, and the only thought that crossed my mind was to shake off the sense of unease that was gripping me.
I opted for a quick shower, hoping that the touch of the water would wash away the clouds that were gathering nervously on my forehead.
Sensing my rather ominous mood, you had slipped silently out of the room to immerse yourself in the dream I had joyfully given you.
The sudden rush of water barely managed to calm my nerves, and I told myself that, for the moment, I might as well be content with that. After turning off the faucet, I wrapped myself in a huge towel provided for guests.
You hadn’t returned yet from your Maldivian wanderings, and I flung myself onto the bed with the distinct sensation of flying and still a little dazed from the trip.
Sleep overtook me in an instant, until your kiss woke me up.
I realized you’d taken a shower thanks to the scent of lime pouring from your pores, which had dilated from the heat.
I instinctively threw my arms around your neck, but you pulled me up, urging me to get dressed so we could go eat.
As usual, you were right not to keep the staff waiting too long—they’d gone out of their way to make us feel at home.
We hurried and in a few minutes reached the bar, where a waiter greeted us with a smile and two aperitifs in hand.
Our desire to fill our eyes with glimpses of that paradise didn’t seem enough to stop the relentless passage of time; the waiter’s arrival, laden with plates overflowing with grilled shellfish and a mixed salad with tropical fruit, momentarily broke that spell.