THE NEXT ISLAND
THE RESORT WAS SENSATIONAL. Nestled in the nook of an ancient coral atoll, adrift in the middle of the Indian Ocean, it offered fathomless luxury a thousand kilometers away from the rest of world. We ate breakfast over the reef, lunched at the sunken poolside bar, and enjoyed dinner by candlelight on the beach, stopping shamelessly at the all-day ice-cream bar in between. At the spa, I consulted with an in-house Ayurvedic therapist and had my biomarkers analyzed before cycling back through the perfectly manicured oasis to our overwater villa. Inside, the turquoise lagoon was never out of sight: beneath the hammock, from the shower, even from the toilet. Best of all, it was entirely complimentary, as I was writing a review for a Maldives travel website.
As our wonderful hosts at Six Senses Laamu showed us around their paradisiacal playground, however, there was something else constantly vying for my attention. Somewhere just beyond the endless breakfast-buffet horizon, small boats were being swallowed up by a busy little harbor. Over the shoulder of water sports instructors, languid plumes of smoke drifted up from an otherwise dormant isle, just out of reach. As I jotted down notes about the resort’s fabulous room options or the 42nd flavor
