CELEBRATING END OF COVID IN THE MALDIVES
“It’s oh so quiet. Shhhh, Shhhh. It’s oh-so still. Shhhh, Shhhh. I’m all alone. Shhhh, Shhhh. And so peaceful until…“
Until nothing
I’m all by myself. Standing quietly on the wooden pathway leading to my Club Med Laguna bungalow. My wife is already there, reading a book on the porch. The kids had run off to chase skirts in Club Med’s “C’est bon pour le moral” party on the other side of the tiny atoll. I can barely make out the all-familiar tunes. I steady my Olympus mirrorless camera on the handrails, hold my breath, and gently squeeze the shutter against the starry skies in front of me. The shutter closes a few seconds later with an audible “click!” as the picture appears on the back screen. YES! I got it! (It’s the one you see above). And to think I was THIS close to not making it here at all.
COVID Party
It all began about ten days earlier at a very nice steak house in Austin, Texas. I arrived at the heart of the Lone Star State for the 500th MotoGP race (The “Formula One” of motorcycles, should you need askin’) at The Circuit of the Americas just outside the city’s bustling downtown. Once the race was over, we settled in for a dinner date with one of our leading US influencers, Eric Barros – more commonly known by his “nom de guerre” Yammie Noob” – and his team. The dinner was great, the company – even better. Eric is one hell of a guy and his YouTube channel rocks! If you are interested in motorcycles, you should visit his channel. Perhaps even subscribe – more than one million already did.
Back to the story. We bid each other farewell, and I went to the airport for the flight back home the following day. I take the mandatory PCR test upon landing in Israel (No longer required), and grabbing the cab home, I see an ominous message from Guy, Cardo Systems GM of America. He tested positive for COVID. I sat right next to him the whole event. Later, I find out that Bobby, our Latin America sales rep, is also down. Feeling fine but taking the proper precaution, I keep myself quarantined at home until the PCR test returns with a surprising negative result!
“That’s strange,” says my inner voice, “I was surrounded by COVID cases but somehow managed to dodge the plague?”. The following day I found out that Eric and his business associate are down too. In retrospect, the dinner at the Texan steakhouse now seems like an ill-advised high-stakes gamble. Worse, I’m one week before a planned family Easter vacation in the Maldives. Cold sweat runs down my neck as I take a COVID rapid test kit and shove the long swab up my nose and throat. I wait a few long minutes before checking the result. Zilch. Nothing. Healthy an investment banker after an annual bonus. Perhaps I got lucky?
Saved by the bell
I woke up the following day with a slight headache. Nothing to write home about. I pop an Advil and go to my home office to start the day. The headache disappears entirely as the first Zoom meeting starts. Everything is great by noon, and I have completely forgotten about the whole affair. It’s only a WhatsApp message about another “victim” from that night that makes me rethink my initial optimism. Could that morning headache mean more than I thought? I took another COVID rapid test, only this time it’s two lines, not one.
I have COIVID.
It’s six days before my flight.
S***!!!
Five days pass in emotional agony, and now it’s one day before the flight. I’m still coughing a bit, but other than that, I have no fever or any other symptoms at all. The rapid test kit shows two lines, although the second one now seems slightly faded. Would I make it out of COVID in time?
The morning of the flight comes. I take another cotton swab and pray for a negative result. I wait a few minutes, which lasts forever, and… YES! Negative!
Time to pack, put on double face masks (just in case) and rush to the airport.
Celebrating freedom
The following day I got off the speedboat and onto the long Jetty leading to Club Med at Kani island. This is a family resort for spoiled tourists and their young brats. We fit in nicely. The place is your usual postcard paradise, complete with eye-dazzling white sand beaches, gorgeous-looking turquoise waters, and 75 suites on stilts that, viewed from above, resemble a giant palm tree growing out across the lagoon. “Between diving in the underwater depths and the pleasure of sampling the exquisite flavors of Asia, Kani is an Eden for all lovers. Just 30-minute sail north of Male International Airport.” Says the brochure. I can only attest to its accuracy.
The place is indeed paradise if your paradise includes being stuck on a tiny, flat coral island with three annoying adolescents. The food is excellent, by the way, thanks in part to the Maldives’ national crop – freshly caught Tuna.
I’m not the person to enjoy being marooned inside an all-inclusive resort. Nevertheless, having gone through COVID unscathed, I find myself a bit euphoric – like a prisoner set free with no parole. Not having to worry about getting Corona any time soon does bring with it a peculiar sense of liberty.
I make sure to celebrate by hydrating myself with an endless string of Mojitos (extra Rum, please) prepared by my newfound buddy Mohammad the bartender. Call it a contradiction in terms, if you will, yet Mohammad is a devote Muslim with a friendly disposition and an ability to mix one mean cocktail after another while declaring to have never touched a drink. I don’t know if I believe that statement, but I am in no mood to open a theological inquiry with a Muslim during the month of Ramadan. “Just please feel up that glass, Mohammad, my alcohol levels in my bloodstream are running dangerously low, thank you.”
Stary night
So here we are. Back where we started. With my camera pointing at the stars above.
It’s oh so quiet; it’s oh so still. I’m all alone and so peaceful until… Click!
