The Greater Malé Region is a hot mess, and not in the saucy context that Hollywood has been using at every opportunity. No one can deny that… former and latter. Despite the efforts by the government to control the population density through decentralization and immigration control, the islands that are now collectively known as “Malé City” have become a nightmarish hodgepodge of uncontrollable roadside parking, drivers driving uncontrollably, and perhaps the most frustrating of all, the lack of the quiet leisure that the Maldives and its citizens have enjoyed for centuries.

Our ancestors would be spinning in their graves if they knew the hurried lives that their offspring have taken on, in their attempt to westernize themselves, following suit with the rest of the Asian countries.

Get this: if I didn’t have to go to Hulhumalé or Vilingili, I could easily spend several months without seeing the ocean by simply going from home to work and back, within Maafannu. Besides, the place is so small, that you’d stop nodding at your friends when you bump into them on the street the 4th or 5th time the same day.

Me? I needed a break. I have been to Laamu before and knew the way around. I often long for the crisp air and the super white-hot sunlight that streams all year-round because of how absolutely close to the equator the atoll is. And to my mind, the sea within the atoll is somehow a slightly different shade of deep blue than the rest of the atolls.

Getting there is easy enough. Get to Velana International Airport, go to the domestic terminal, hop on a plane that’s going to Kadhdhoo, and that’s it, really. There are a number of options that you can choose from, for where you’re going to sleep and eat. I typically choose to rent out rooms from friends or acquaintances, because I like to have a full-on island experience than a curated version of the Maldives.

Getting out of Malé and from under the baleful haze of the Atmospheric Brown Cloud that seems to get worse every year, and stepping into air that’s free of the perpetual miasma of summery humidness of still sea air containing vehicle fumes, ubiquitous clouds of cigarette smoke and construction dust and blasts of foul air from exhausts funnelling air from tiny kitchens and overstuffed living quarters, directly into the streets.

The airport was quick and painless, like domestic airports are supposed to be. It’s just a few minutes of waiting for your luggage to get to the terminal from the airport, and moments later, I’m hanging out with my friends.

Before the Sinamalé bridge was built, it wasn’t possible to go on a long ride in Malé. Laamu has about 17 kilometers of highways and causeways connecting four islands. The drive drom Fonadhoo to Gan can easily take about 30 minutes at the speed limit; longer if you want to act like your ancestors and take a more leisurely pace and a meandering path with multiple Instagram, Snapchat and TikTok stops.

These connected communities aren’t like the ones here in Malé. Houses clump together in villages and neighborhoods, unlike ultra-urban Malé. There’s one thing that’s common to all the islands of the Maldives though. Everyone in each community somehow knows each other, is either your neighbour, or related to you from way back.

So yes, island folk will know the instant there’s someone on the island that’s not one of them. One of these is not like the others…

If you walk westward across the second largest island in the country, Gan, you’ll end up on a magnificent beach with a lovely view across the gigantic reef with seldom a rock or a coral in the shallows. This beach is covered with creamy white coral sands for miles and miles, as far as the eyes could see.

Meanwhile the trees on the island are nearly the size of those typically found in ancient forests, with ancient, majestic boughs swaying gently in the breeze. The fragrance of the ferns that surround the brackish ponds is quite unique, and a welcome relief from the urban scents back at the capital… although you’ll need to worry about a different kind of cloud that swoops down and actively follows you around wherever you go: mosquitoes.

I typically stock up on various types of repellent. One thing about the Maldives is its unpredictability in throwing sickness at you. The Maldives is luckily free of Malaria, but there had been cases of dengue fever scattered throughout the country, and since you’ll be walking around the beach and through woods, it would be prudent to take preventative measures.

The islands of Gan and Fonadhoo were also enlarged by reclamation of land from the lagoon. It was also nominated to be one of the regional centres, thus, tertiary level hospitals, university faculties and other urban level facilities are available on the island. So, unlike smaller islands, you are closer to a doctor or a surgeon in the rare case that you need to be.

Typically, Laamu experiences the same kind of climate, if not hotter than Malé. However, the roads can become hot and dusty between the summery showers in the wintertime and squally weeks during the spring monsoons. But unlike Malé, you won’t have to worry about dripping drainpipes onto the pavement, and you can splash through as many puddles as you like – within reason – and not worry about wading through a thick stew of cat faeces, dead rodents and other generally biodegradable materials.

There aren’t many entertainment options here in the Maldives in general, and Laamu is no different. However, in the Maldives, entertainment is something that you’ll have to organize and almost always involves some kind of expedition. It hasn’t changed much over the centuries.

A quiet picnic by the beach? Let’s go to a deserted island! Fishing? Even something small, like setting up at the jetty, there’s a disproportionally long (and sometimes tedious) amount of preparation.

Yes, that means that if any islander ever asks you to join their barbeque, or the fishing trip, that means they can truly tolerate you for more than just an hour over some coffee. But just going for a drive along that gorgeous stretch of highway is quite the evening anyway.

But the entire beauty of Laamu isn’t on the joined islands. There’s Isdhoo-Kalaidhoo to the north of the island, with plenty of sight-seeing to do. The reef around the island is several miles long, so the entrance to the island is just as impressive as the thick woods that are all around the two farming townships on the island that have always been quite competitive.

Most young Maldivians are often surprised to find out that the Maldives has islands large enough to have had small scale commercial farming for decades. You’ll see a lot of different kinds of tech being used… with vertical farming the most recent exploration that is now slowly being commercialized. The Maldivian archipelago does not have the soil in which grain and cereals grow well, so it is the challenge of the 21st century to achieve food security for the burgeoning population.

Gan and Fonadhoo islands are linked with the airport Kadhdhoo – which makes reaching the destination a piece of cake – and with Maandhoo, which has a fisheries factory and harbor. This stretch of land has more than 8 districts with industrial, agricultural and tourism zones.

The quiet village life is now slowly fading, as the fast-paced urban lifestyle continues to make inroads into watermelon and pumpkin patches, and is sweeping away the idyllic life that the Maldivian ancestors sought in these lands. Periurban style closely packed houses are slowly encroaching into the agricultural lands, while entire groves of coconut trees have been cut down to make way for roads and buildings.

While the local authorities have made efforts to replant the trees that were removed, this significant reduction in tree cover for the canopy of the island, accelerates erosion through wind and wave action.

You came to Malé for a week of adventure and exploration, but you stayed for the coffee. You were amazed by the beauty and diversity of the islands, the crystal-clear lagoons, and the friendly locals. But you were also drawn to the bistros, cozy cafés and tuck-shops that dotted every block and every street corner, offering you a taste of the world’s most beloved beverage.

For centuries, Maldivians had long been super fans of tea. Hingaa kalheh jahaalan was a common phrase in the evenings, amongst the youth and the elderly. But when the Maldives was finally opened up to experience world culture in the ’90s, millennials took over the entire culture of high tea, by bringing something else to replace the quintessential ingredient to all evening gatherings.

Coffee originated in Ethiopia, where a shepherd noticed his goats becoming more energetic after eating the berries of a certain plant. He tried some himself and felt the same effect. Later, monks in the area discovered that coffee helped them stay alert during long hours of prayer.

Like Tea and the several rituals around it, coffee has its own ages-long culture. A culture that Maldivians embraced with passion and pride. They didn’t care much about the different types of roasts, they just wanted their coffee strong and black. They didn’t know that the lighter the roast, the more caffeine it contained. They just knew that coffee gave them the energy and the mood to face the day.

You, on the other hand, were more curious and adventurous. You wanted to try different roasts and flavors, to experience the nuances and subtleties of each cup. You learned that the light roast, also called the cinnamon roast, half city or New England, had a sour and grassy taste; that the medium roast, also known as full city, American, regular, breakfast or brown, had a sweet and aromatic smell, with a balanced acidity; that the dark roast, also called High, Viennese, French or Continental, had a spicy and chocolatey flavor, with a smooth body; and that the darkest roast, widely known as Italian or espresso, had a bitter and smoky taste, with a rich crema.

You preferred the medium to dark roasts, and you liked to add some sugar to enhance the sweetness. You enjoyed a latte macchiato at the airport café, savoring the contrast between the hot espresso and the cold milk foam.

You looked around and saw the familiar faces of the people you had met and befriended during your stay. You had shared many conversations and laughs with them, over topics ranging from philosophy to politics. You had learned a lot from them, and they had learned from you too.

You felt a pang of sadness as you realized you had to leave soon. You had fallen in love with the islands, the people, and the coffee. You had experienced a slice of paradise, a place where time seemed to stand still, where nature was in harmony, where life was simple and joyful.

You knew that you would miss waking up to the sound of the waves and the breeze of the palm trees, the warm and sunny mornings, the colorful and serene evenings, the fresh and delicious seafood, and of course, the coffee.

You boarded the plane and took your seat. You looked out the window and saw the islands fading away in the distance. You felt a mix of emotions, gratitude, nostalgia, and hope. You hoped to come back someday, to see your friends again, to explore more islands, and to drink more coffee.

The seat belt sign turned off, and the flight attendant approached you with a smile. She asked you, “Tea, Coffee, or Juice?” “Coffee, please.” You replied, without hesitation. You knew that coffee was more than just a drink, it was a culture. A culture that you had embraced, and that had embraced you back.