SOME ENCHANTED ISLANDS
Though he looks more like a younger Gérard Depardieu than Ricardo Montalbán’s Mr. Roarke, I half expect our host, a genial Austrian-Italian named Renato Chizzola, to declare “Welcome to Fantasy Island” as we step out of the seaplane and onto the dock. Instead, we’re met by a chorus of “bonjours” and “ça vas?” from the dozen-strong reception committee of butlers and senior staff who have gathered to greet us—as they do all incoming guests—under the hot Maldivian sun.
“Welcome to Cheval Blanc Randheli, welcome to your paradise!” booms Chizzola. Close enough, I think. And with (as the resort calls its butlers), escorted down the jetty, and whisked off in a buggy to our villas.
