Why do we keep coming back to Thoddoo?

Convincing a lover of the sea, beach, sand, and palm trees to trade them for a holiday in the mountains or a colder climate is no easy task. While those destinations are undeniably beautiful and have their own unique appeal, for us, nothing compares to returning to this little slice of paradise on earth—the Maldives, and more specifically, the island of Thoddoo.

Paradise. The colours that Instagram filters usually create are real here. I am in love again. Well, before we get to paradise, there are some more exciting details :-) Maybe I’m not the best writer, but I’ll do my best to make you feel it… Usually, we travel to the Maldives in our winter, which means you leave home in long sleeves, a jacket… Just the thought of travelling to a warm place is nice and warms you up a bit. You feel that warmth, don’t you? But no, it’s not that kind of warmth. Even as the plane lands, you can feel the warm, humid air—so different from what you might be used to. It’s akin to stepping into a summer heatwave. If you’re lucky enough to disembark quickly, with no long lines for the restroom, you can change into summer clothes right away and feel relieved. But if you’re stuck halfway through the journey in a padded tracksuit and heavy sneakers… well, let me tell you, it’s far from pleasant. My advice? Keep lighter clothes within easy reach for a quick change—ideally, do it on the plane before landing if possible!

Once the initial shock of the heat wears off and your body starts to adjust, things can only get better… or can they?

It depends on what your next destination is. If you’re travelling to the capital Male or Hulhumale, you’ll continue your journey on a normal road, as the two islands are connected by a bridge. If your final destination is one of the mid-islands, you have more options. A ferry, a speed boat or a more luxurious vessel, of course it all depends on your budget. For those more remote islands, you’ll have to take a seaplane.

Thoddoo is one of the medium islands that you go to by speed boat, and we know that part very well.

All loaded up, overdressed, but full of anticipation, you finally see the turquoise colour of the sea up close, beckoning you to jump in. It could be compared to a softener, but you’re not there yet. No no no. At that moment, you forget about the heat. The fatigue passes. We women see a mediocre boat that will just take us to the island. The crew – a group of 3 teenagers, rather – are putting our heavy suitcases in the bottom of the boat. One slightly older man at the wheel is already waiting impatiently for us to leave the port. Things are moving fast, as another boat is already behind us, waiting for us to get out of the way.

Since 250 horsepower is usually already too much for a 10m boat, the Maldivians use 3, for a total of 750hp. Never enough horse power, right?

For men, it’s a completely different story. Their eyes light up as they spot the boat—a machine boasting 500-700 horsepower (whatever that means to most of us)—but to them, it’s a beast. And when those horses roar, even we women feel the power and realize this is no ordinary boat.

As we leave the airport farther behind, the boat picks up speed. Soon, the land disappears, and all that’s left is the endless sea, rolling waves, and, of course, the rumble of our horsepower. That’s when the real fun begins. The young crew springs into action—they close the windows, secure the bags, size up the passengers, and floor it. Before you know it, we’re cruising at speeds that feel like 48 knots or more.

Waves crash against the boat, sending sprays of water everywhere. Passengers let out screams and squeals, making it feel like an aquatic amusement park. Mothers clutch their children tightly, trying to shield them from the splashes. Meanwhile, there’s always someone clutching a bag, and then there’s that one person—usually a local—who sleeps through it all, completely unfazed, as if it’s just another day in paradise.

If we’re lucky, we might spot dolphins along the way, pass a few luxury resorts, or even find another boat to race for fun. The clock ticks on, and at around the 60-minute mark, we’re still going full throttle as we pull into the port.

The adrenaline still lingers, but as you step off the boat and finally reach your destination, it begins to fade. You made it. The adventure’s only just begun.

We were on the speed boat 6 times, and what I described was the worst experience of them all. Every time someone needed “sick bags”. It all depends on the weather, the waves, the driver and whether someone is in a hurry to get to the airport or if they are running behind schedule. Where you sit also makes a huge difference. I recommend finding a seat as far back as possible, facing the direction of travel. Yes, you’ll likely be in the sun and might get splashed a little, but it’s much more bearable than sitting up front.

The heat shock is behind us, the boat ride is forgotten, we hugged our friend Sasha in the harbour, who greeted us, escorted us to the guest house, our suitcases are taken care of and we are already sipping coconut water in the shade. A freshly made bed awaits us in our room, and if their cook has had a good day, a delicious chocolate cake. This cake, the simplest cake, but so very good. Delicious!

It’s been a long, exhausting journey—time zones messed up, bodies in need of a recharge. We steal a few minutes for a quick snooze after a refreshing shower, but not too long. You can’t help but want to dive into the island vibes immediately. So, we slather on thick layers of sunscreen, grab our sunglasses, throw on a cap, and, of course, spray ourselves down for mosquitoes (if it’s before the rain, trust me, it’s non-negotiable). And just like that, we’re off—on the bike!

Now, let’s talk about these bikes. Rusty wheels, wobbly balance, brakes that either don’t work or are on their limits, and an impossibly uncomfortable seat. At home? No way I’d touch one of these. But here? Oh, it’s part of the charm. Every creak, groan, and squeak from the bike feels like it has a personality of its own. Turn the handlebars, and it sings a new tune. And off we go, round and round the island…

Thoddoo – paradise on earth.

Thoddoo island is just 1km wide and a bit less than 2km long, so can cycle around it in 1 hour, going slow and easy.

But first, we pedal through fields of watermelon, papaya, beans, lettuce, courgettes… Fields that feel like home, yet so different. Here, everything is done by hand, and locals water tirelessly throughout the day to protect their crops from the scorching sun. I’m cycling slowly, taking it all in, watching people work. It’s humbling to think these are the fruits and vegetables that will end up on our plates later.

Every now and then, a local zooms past on a scooter, either greeting me warmly or not at all—both are just part of the vibe here. I spot children waiting for their parents, some playing with one another, others glued to screens even in this paradise. It’s bittersweet, really. All this stunning nature around them, yet technology has managed to sneak its way in. It’s something that’s changed in just a few short years. Back in 2019, when we first arrived, kids were still kids—playing outside, running through the streets. Fast forward to 2022, and it’s a different scene. It’s a bit of a contrast, seeing the shift from carefree outdoor play to the quiet of children absorbed in their screens.  Still, life goes on, a blend of simplicity and modernity in the most unexpected ways.

And here we are at the first bikini beach. We jump into the water, hoping for a refreshing dip after cycling—but is it working? Not exactly. It feels more like stepping into a whirlpool, and we’re totally fine with that. We love fruit and coconut, so I head over to a nearby fruit vendor, pick up a few pieces, and we’re already slicing fresh fruit with our trusty razor, which we’ve learned never to leave behind. The sun is setting, casting everything in a golden glow, and we take our time strolling along the beach. But as the sky fades to darkness, we know it’s time to go—the night falls quickly on this side of the world.

Of course, our bikes don’t have lights. Or maybe they do, but they don’t work. So, we ride slowly, dodging locals on scooters, weaving past pedestrians, and sometimes veering into the sand where it’s not well-trodden. It’s like the child in us has woken up—laughing at each other, splashing through puddles, and just enjoying the playful chaos of it all.

And we’re already in “the city”. Children are playing football in the playground, young ladies are rushing to the gym with sneakers in their hands, calls to prayer are echoing all over the island… “Oh, bad timing” we say to each other, just when we are heading to the grocery store to buy some water (*Shops are closed during prayer times). Then a little girl crosses my path, shouting “STOP” from afar, and walks into the middle of the road. My thoughts are racing… What does she want, will I manage to stop this old bike of mine, what if I run her over, maybe I shouldn’t have stopped, what if it’s a trick… But I just stop the bike somehow, nudging my foot a little more to make it easier to stop. This little creature, she puts out her hand holding a flower and says: “For you.” I can’t believe it. I am amazed, confused, I don’t know how to react to this. I accept the flower, say thank you … and she is already smiling and waving goodbye.

Wow… That’s the charm this island has. Everything is so imperfect, but so very authentic and natural.

We have some time to waste, so we decide to take a stroll and check out what’s new since the last time we were here. The men are back from prayer, and the scooters are once again zipping up and down the streets. The shops are reopening, and we rush to grab some water and a few odds and ends at a tiny shop no bigger than our bathroom at home, yet somehow they have everything we need. But when we reach the checkout, we realize we only have a hundred-dollar note. A bit unsure of how we’ll manage, the cashier casually opens one, two, three large envelopes full of cash from behind the counter—maybe a couple of thousand dollars in bills—and starts counting out our change right there, in front of everyone in the shop. We’re in shock at what we’re seeing. They feel safe. And so do we.

We’re starting to feel the hunger after all that cycling, so we head to a local restaurant. Sure, we could’ve chosen a more upscale place with a wider menu, something closer to what we’re used to back home, but that’s not our style. We love the local spots—where the service isn’t always top-notch, the food tastes a little different, but still incredibly delicious. And the prices? Almost ridiculously low. These are the places where the locals hang out, so we get to chat with them and see the island in a completely different light.

It’s this spirit of connection that brought us back to our friend Sasha, a Bangladeshi working in the Maldives, who’s always eager to share his culture, worldview, and insights into life here. So much can change in just a year, and the nights often feel too short to catch up on everything. Our meetups sometimes happen on the beach, where we search for shimmering plankton and gaze at the moon.

No cars, no chaos, no deadlines. At home, we’re overwhelmed by everything, but here, we find peace in simplicity. It’s just us, the ocean, the sand, the palms, the coconut water, the coral reefs—and our only concern is whether today will be the day we see a turtle. That’s why we keep coming back to this island.

p.s. Although to be fair, in February 2022 season this island was already a bit too crowded for us, so we are already on the lookout for a new paradise on earth, like Thoddoo was back in 2019.