@ADCuthbertson
POKING PRECARIOUSLY above the water, Mirihi Island appears on the horizon like a beached turtle. The pilot of the tiny seaplane that is taking me to the Maldivian resort, recently voted the seventh best hotel in the world, is sitting within arm’s reach. He is not wearing any shoes.
After a splash landing, a posse of islanders greets me on the pontoon. They are also barefoot. Before I have checked in, a sta member politely asks me to remove my sneakers, to be picked up and taken, together with my bags, to my water villa, a straw-roofed hut suspended on stilts above the water 20 feet from shore.