Herewith, an unvarnished diary of the Spoiled Guest’s 12-day trip to the Maldives, via Istanbul, late last year:

October 30 -31, 2024

The Turkish Airlines check-in desks at JFK Terminal 1 are unmanned when we arrive in late afternoon. (turns out they only open 4 hours before the next flight, note to self), so we cool our heels in the distinctly downscale food court for an hour and a half. Would have been better off staying in the domestic Terminal 4 — better food options.

TSA is a horror show, with different rules for different queues, and both our handbags are searched. But once through, we’re in the delightful Turkish Airline business class lounge, with spectacular sunset out the window and good food.

Then, at boarding time, we’re in the wrong queue for business class, which has its own dedicated line, but take matters in our own hands and get on quickly. Super-spacious cabin, 10 feet between rows, otherwise conventional lie-flats. Cabin crew is efficient and gracious. Nice meal, including tiny electric “candles,” then to sweaty sleep.

Up an hour and a half before landing. Nice breakfast, then we land and have to descend the mobile stairs to be bussed to the terminal — dangerous with our compliment of roller bags. At the terminal we’re met by a beautiful young girl in full uniform representing our hotel who whisks us through customs and into a giant golf cart, and thence to a waiting Mercedes. Quiet, pleasant driver. Interesting terrain reminiscent of Portugal.

Arrival at the Peninsula Hotel is a group affair, smile and bows, and a security scan to enter anywhere of importance here, we’re soon to learn. Charming manager lady shows us to our gorgeous room overlooking the Bosporus. Spectacular room, outdoes the Ritz in my view. Shower, nap, and up to the rooftop bar for a drink — just so/so — then to Restaurant Gallada on the roof of the hotel for a terrific dinner of dumplings, lamb, Seghesio zin by the glass, and the most amazing pistachio Baklava ever. Gratefully to bed.

Nov. 1, Friday.

Up at 7:30 to be ready for our tour. Nice breakfast in the huge lobby dining room, charming staff, beautiful cool day. Our guide — I’ll call him Brutus — is nice without being overly talkative. We take a sumptuous van with its own driver to Hagia Sofia, which is stunning, then, because the Blue Mosque doesn’t open till 2:30 on Fridays, we visit a cistern in the basement of what appears to be a combined office building/gallery. After the cistern tour, I enquire about the Northwestern Wildcats decal on the wall, and we’re immediately in the thrall of who we’ll soon learn is a rug merchant, suave and well-dressed, with perfect English, who regales us with the tales of some relative who went to Northwestern before taking us upstairs and subjecting us to the choreographed floor show of rug display. So we’ve been pleasantly abducted and our pleasant ransom will be a $13,500 rug — very beautiful, but really?

To lunch with our guide at a charming rooftop restaurant (excellent buffalo mozzarella) and on to Topkapi — interesting, but missable — and to the Blue Mosque, which is thronging as it’s been closed all morning. Brutus tries to cheat us in a side entrance designated for “prayer”, but the guard whistles us away and we give up on the interior of the Blue Mosque. Queue at least a half hour long — another time, perhaps.

Back to the hotel for a nap, then pickup by a local friend’s driver for a long drive (traffic snarls everywhere) into the hills to our our friend’s top floor apartment overlooking the Bosporus. Two other charming couples from Bosporus University, where our friend and his wife teach, also attend. Delightful hors douvres, drinks and dinner (with place cards!), scintillating adult conversation, some of it political, in a tone we never hear in the US. Long ride back to the hotel, and I tip our silent driver, who reluctantly accepts. Immediately to bed, as it’s near midnight.

Nov. 2, Saturday

Late breakfast, some packing, and a delightful walk along the “Galataport,” a secured (scanner—only entry) promenade along the Bosporus, lined with beautiful shops and restaurants, including the Istanbul Modern (which we decide to skip). After, we meet the charming concierge, Nedrat, with whom I’d corresponded by email. She arranges a lunch for our Bosporus boat ride. Beautiful yacht which we board off the hotel’s dock, with a captain and young guy who provides intermittent commentary on the more prominent sights. Lovely lunch, stunning views on all sides, reminiscent of San Francisco but far more vast and populated. Amazing waterside homes, universities, ancient forts, soaring bridges not unlike the Golden Gate (but here there are three of them).

Home in the dusk, more packing, then to Gallada for a last dinner, again delightful. Off to the airport at 11 pm, about an hour drive. We’re met by a porter and our facilitator guy, who whisk us through security and check-in and to the vast, complicated Turkish Airlines Business Class lounge, where our guy leaves us for an hour and a half till boarding. Many food stations, an array of seating, overlooking the enormous high-end shopping mall enclosed by the even more enormous Istanbul Airport. Our guy reappears to golf cart us to the gate, which must be a half mile down the huge concourse. I tip him not enough, and shortly we’re aboard. Slightly smaller plane than our last (A 330), but same seats and nice though not as elaborate meal service. Seven hours sleep later, a quick breakfast and we’re at Male, in the Maldives.

Nov. 3, Sunday

Again, stairs to navigate to the tarmac, but we’re met at the bottom by two reps who whisk us to a van (no bus for us!) to the terminal, and to a lovely VIP lounge. There we’re interviewed by a couple of Kudadoo Island employees, including a rather officious young woman who rather laboriously checks me (but evidently not Courtney) in to the resort via its dedicated “application” (meaning app) on my phone. Eventual success involves taking a photo of my passport, etc. Then another van to the separate seaplane terminal (about 10 minutes’ drive), which is pleasant. We’re ushered to a small waiting room containing about 10 other passengers, who have evidently been waiting for us as we’re immediately called to board the seaplane on one of the many docks outside. I can’t imagine that some of our rather scruffy fellow passengers are going to Kudadoo, and I’m right. Cramped quarters on the plane (low point of the trip so far), 40 minute flight to water touchdown at a dock in a shallow bay, the dropping off point both for Kudadoo, and a larger sister property to which all but one other couple are headed. We remaining four board a nice enclosed dinghy on which we’re met by our butler-to-be, Naajy, who wrangles our bags aboard. Two minutes to the Kudadoo dock, where a small band of Maldivians and the manager of the resort, a suave Japanese gentleman, greet us. We load onto a golf cart (the only vehicles on the island), and we’re off.

Naajy gives us a tour of the big main building, very Asian/Japanese, then drives us to our spacious villa among 14 others arrayed in a semicircle around a lagoon, facing the sea. Spectacular room, with separate bath room, bath and massage room, shower room, huge deck, pool, outdoor lounge areas, with a ladder off the deck into the shallow turquoise sea.

Naajy has arranged massages for us at 6, dinner at 9. We comply. Wonderful foot baths and massages by two lovely SE Asian ladies (they silently swap us during the treatments); we each drift off to sleep as they work. Later, Naajy drives us to dinner in the main building, where there are only two other couples dining. Lovely meal overlooking the spotlit water. We’re driven home after, then a quick Fernet Branca (stocked as requested in our room along with Courtney’s Grey Goose), and to bed in our previously-selected “soft” bed with previously-selected lavender scented pillows. Quickly, gratefully, to sleep.

Nov. 4, Monday

Up relatively late (Kudadoo is one hour later than Male’ time). Pre-ordered breakfast on our deck, delicious. Then to pedicures at the main building, lying flat, exquisite, despite my unsightly toenails. Lunch at the villa (Naajy carts us back and forth to all appointments, though the walk would be minimal), then I Sea-bob (those mini motorized submarine water scooters) along the reef next to the Kudadoo dock and we and our handsome guide head out on JetSkis in search of dolphins. It takes a while and a good distance, and we pass some unpromising atolls with dumps burning, but finally come upon a huge school of dolphins that we pace for half an hour. Back to the villa, clean up, then a sunset cruise with one other couple, thunderheads and rainbows as well as the sunset. Later, dinner at the main building, at tables in the shallow shelf of the pool, feet in four inches of water. The wind picks up and we move indoors seamlessly. Back to a waiting Fernet Branca at the villa, baklava on the deck, and to bed.

Nov. 5, Tuesday (Election Day)

I slept poorly, but we’re up for an early breakfast before heading out on the cruise/dive boat with an Australian couple for snorkeling with mantas. Guided by two enthusiastic young French girls, we see a few of the giant creatures in between re-boarding and re-locating the boat too many times, and other, larger groups are patrolling the same area. Finally we leave them behind and reach a secluded atoll with a huge coral face stretching down to the depths, where we snorkel with mantas, sharks, parrot fish, sea turtles breaching for air and a host of others — remarkable. Pleasant conversation with our new Australian friends, and learn that London is a nonstop stop between NYC and the Maldives — good to know! Back to the villa, lunch, and a pre-massage nap.

Wonderful massage, clean up, then a speedy launch to the neighboring island for dinner in “5.8” — meaning 5.8 meters beneath the water, by stairs. Amazing glass half-tube surrounded by fish of every description — and a very nearly Michelin-quality 7-course meal to go with it. Charming staff, a lot of guest preening, loads of fun. Back in the dark on the launch after, Naajy awaits us to spirit us home to bed. It’s Election Day back home, so we toast to our country’s good fortune, and to bed.

Nov. 6, Wednesday

I slept a bit, but not much. A Tylenol and Sudafed later I’m feeling much better, except about the election, which swiftly goes from bad to very bad. We stay in the villa today to meditate and mourn, I have a nice snorkel in the waters beneath our deck — lovely. If you’re going to have your hopes for your country dashed, this is the place to do it. Dinner by the main pool, with water up to our ankles —delightful. Home in Naajy’s buggy, a Fernet Branca, and to bed.

Nov. 7, Thursday

Slept better with the aid of Courtney’s Trazodone. Early excursion to the big(ger) island nearby for my first scuba dive, with the delightfully French “Morgan.” C goes to the big gym. I first have to see the island doctor, a very serious Maldivian woman, who takes my blood pressure (too high, but ok) and interrogates me about my medications. I pass, barely. Then a briefing by Morgan about diving basics (I’ve brought my PADI card, but have admitted I haven’t dived in about 5 years) and our route. We set out off the beach, tanks on backs, and I immediately fall over in the surf. After that, a smooth and beautiful one-hour reef dive — gorgeous creatures, including huge morays and sea cucumbers, and innumerable fish species —just wish I had a GoPro. Back to the spa after lunch for an amazing full body massage plus facial — an otherworldly experience. Dinner that night at the Teppanyaki place across the atoll —- fun and delectable. Boat and buggy home to bed.

Nov. 8, Friday

Another lovely breakfast, then an hour and a half reef snorkel for two of us, guided from a snappy speedboat by our JetSki guide. All beautiful, glad C got to see — she does well, though hampered by her overlarge life jacket. Lunch, then another full-on spa experience, including Himalayan salt room, full body massage with aloe treatment, and a couples bath in the beautifully prepared bathtub overlooking the sea. Later, after a nap —and an impromptu haircut on our deck from Tamil, the deck captain! — on the main building deck with musical accompaniment by Nish, a Maldivian singer-she’s wonderful. It’s Indian-themed night, with tandoori cooking to order and wonderful wine.

Nov. 9, Saturday

After breakfast, our delayed visit to Naajy’s home island to meet his family, a 15-minute boat ride away. One of his friends meets us in his beater battery car and drives us through the unpaved, sandy streets to Naajy’s house, one of the nicer ones we spy. Much reminds me of parts of Mexico — the heat, cinder block construction, simple life kept a step above what we would think of as poverty by diligence and pride. Big difference is the women in full burqa, only their faces exposed. How do they do it in this heat?

Naajy’s home is charming, with an anteroom where we leave our footwear, a central patio where caged parrots chirp beneath a mango tree, and a small but fully-equipped kitchen where a full breakfast has been prepared for the guests by Naajy’s lovely wife. Lots of nan, three different juices, spiced fish, fried eggs, rice, and a sweet smoothie-like almond dessert. Delicious. Eventually Naajy’s niece arrives, very shy and silent, and Nigel, the seven-year-old, perhaps even more handsome than his father and attired for his recent badminton practice, as talkative as his cousin is shy. We finish breakfast, thank our hostess profusely, and Naajy takes on a slow tour in a different borrowed car with a weak a/c. Nigel goes with us, sitting happily in back with the Americans.

First stop is a turtle rescue facility, staffed by British and Aussie women there on a working holiday. Amazing dedication, and wonderful turtles in big blue cement tanks, mostly maimed by fishing nets and missing front limbs. We adopt one for $65. Then more slow driving through town in the excruciating heat, to a lovely public beach and, finally, back to Naajy’s house for a photo shoot with all the many kids, sibling and in-law ladies, and an 8 year old, gorgeous baby girl. Finally the original dude rides us back to the dock and we’re returned to the luxuries of Kudadoo by high speed boat. Quick nap, then another amazing massage in the room, and then to a beautiful dinner on the beach, including a surprise (even to me) birthday cake for C. Giggling waiter, who may be autistic, adds levity to the affair. Home to FB on the deck, and bed.

Nov. 10, Sunday

Last full day. Leisurely breakfast and lunch, then a boat ride to the “dream island” — basically a sand bar with a cabana on it, surrounded by azure waters. To Naajy’s extreme consternation, and our amusement, there’s another couple already ensconced on the dream island! Naajy begins a flurry of frantic calls, and eventually the portly male of the couple gets up from his beach lounge and approaches our boat. Gestures ensue, and Naajy returns looking even more annoyed. The couple is from another island, and someone there clearly failed to check the schedule and see that Naajy had reserved our 2-hour “slot.” We assure him it’s all fine, but clearly he’s incensed in his quiet way. Eventually we zoom back to Kudadoo and set up camp on the beach next to the jetty, C under a cabana, me off for a Sea-Bob around the reef. But we really would be more comfortable at our villa. Naajy explains the couple were Russians, so obviously there was no reasoning with them. First, Ukraine. Now, Dream Island. What’s next?

Still later we’re booked for a “Heaven on Earth” massage, facial, and manicure in our room. C declines the facial, but I’m once again up for this sensory overload, and the simultaneous facial and manicure, lying on my back after a 90 minute massage with a soft cloth over my eyes, being worked on by two women in wildly different ways, is one of the strangest experiences ever. I don’t know whether to smile, twitch, or pass out. After THAT, we’re supposed to go to a wine and cheese tasting, but I belatedly see that it’s scheduled for 2 hours, more than we could possibly want. We ask N for a reprieve and he relents. Lovely brief shower passes over our pool in the dusk. To a shortened wine and cheese tasting in the dedicated wine and cheese “cellar” (more glass than stone) with the charming, knowledgeable Kudadoo sommelier. Then a simple meal on the deck with the usual friendly crew. A final (for now) Fernet Branca, and to bed.

Astounding is the only word that comes to mind for this wonderful trip. C is cowed by the long road home, but I think it will be easier than she imagines, and we will return.

Nov. 11, Monday – Nov. 12, Tuesday

Packing in the morning, and then yet another one-hour massage by the spa ladies. Clean up, dress, and wait for Naajy to take us to the boat to the plane. One other guy, solo, rides with us in the buggy to the dock. New Yorker, middle-aged, slim, Italian-looking, named Steve. We make small talk with him on the boat to the plane, then sit across the tiny isle from him on our flight to Male. He’s in mortgage lending, which strikes me as a euphemism of a distinctly New York sort. He and we are availing ourselves of the VIP service at the Male airport, and are whisked to the most enormous, spanking new, empty lounge I’ve ever seen. Several Maldivians wait on us while we make small talk with Steve about Paris (where he and his wife and kids, on a whim, seemingly, have chosen to live in a rented $7000 a month apartment in the 7th), his wife and kids. Our bags have disappeared into the custody of one of three or four Maldivians, one of whom takes our passports and heads off to check us in. He returns with both legs’ boarding passes and photos of our luggage duly checked through to JFK. All without my so much as standing up.

Finally, we’re driven in a Mercedes over the tarmac to the plane (no bus for us); long stairs to the cabin door, so glad we checked the heavy stuff. Fitful sleep on the plane, and a mere seven hours later, we arrive in IST and have an actual jetway for once! No customs or immigration, few people at 4 in the morning, and we cool our heels in the huge business class lounge, change seats three times, snack. Low point energy-wise. Finally, to the gate, and boarding is a bit of a junk show. Heavy security at the gate, and C is “randomly” singled out for wanding and pat-down. Long wait to board, tons of Turkish passengers, but we’re delighted to find a new configuration on board — little rooms, one per seat, singles at the windows, interlocking doubles in the center. Clever way to double the Business class seats by putting flat-lying legs under the butts in front. Even a little flat “closet” (but no hanger for it). Cubbies and sliding doors (that initially don’t slide) so you can be completely enclosed in your little personal well. Not for claustrophobes, but fun. Big touch-screen TV, power for the devices. Pretty nifty. The ice-cube tray configuration, I call it.

And 12 hours later, we’re back in JFK, being subjected to reality in all its grubby American form.

How can one summarize such an adventure? Courtney has already made me promise that we’ll return to the Maldives, and to Kudadoo in particular, and who am I to argue? It’s one of the most friendly, luxurious, beautiful spots we’ve ever had the privilege to visit. Istanbul is fascinating, and the Peninsula Hotel there one of the finest in the world, bar none. The only drawback is the rather dauntingly long and rather involved trek to get to and from what is literally the other side of the world. But what a wonderful side it is.