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Outside Traveler 2004
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Ultimate Islands: The Maldives
Miles of Isles (cont.)

THAT AFTERNOON, the Explorer stops at Kendhoo, in the northern half of Baa Atoll, population about 800. In deference to the culture, female visitors are asked to wear clothing that covers our shoulders and knees. We are greeted by a somber delegation of gentlemen in plaid shirts bearing trays of orange coconuts, each with a plastic straw stuck into a hole in the top.

Children stare, and when we look their way they try to hide behind one another's skinny shoulders. There are no cars on Kendhoo. The sea is visible at both ends of the main street. Michael Clarke, the Explorer's New Zealander cruise director, gives us a tour. We saunter past the sandy soccer field, home turf for Kendhoo's two rival teams, the Young Boys and the Champions.

Kendhoo's school is a low, whitewashed building arranged around a courtyard. Despite the heat, the students' uniforms are clean and pressed. On a bulletin board, an art display featuring a hand-drawn hawksbill turtle admonishes the students to refrain from eating turtle eggs. "It's an attempt to solve a local problem," Michael says. "The hawksbill is endangered, but turtle eggs are a traditional Maldivian delicacy. In exchange for this campaign, we're helping build them a new classroom."

It turns out the Four Seasons is more than exotic spa treatments and memorable bottles of wine. Armando Kraenzlin, the Swiss general manager, knows his resort wouldn't stay in business were it not for the health and well-being of the Maldivian ecosystem. To this end, he contacted Seacology, a nonprofit conservation group in Berkeley, California, dedicated to preserving island habitats and cultures by giving residents something tangible in exchange for their commitment to protect their environment. In this case, Seacology will build the classroom in trade for the self-enforced ban on eating turtle eggs.

At the end of another street there's a table set for us to take tea on the beach. Plates of tangy vegetable samosas and sweet foni hakaru (deep-fried coconut balls) sit on palm-frond placemats. There's also something square, pink, and cake-like. I ask Niyaz what this exotic dessert is called.

"Why, it's cake," he says in perfect English.

"Yes, that's the one I mean. The pink, square thing that was kind of crumbly and sweet."

"We call it cake."

"Yes, it is cake, but what's the Maldivian word for it?"

"Cake."

"Cake? What makes it pink? Guava or something?"

"Food coloring," he says, with a wink.


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