“The first thing you need to learn,” Matthias told me as we trundled from the seaplane dock towards my Maldives villa, “is the sophisticated art of laziness.”
It was not what I expected to hear from the Operations Director of ananea Madivaru. But the past 12 months had not been a year of doing things in half measure. It had been a year of change and overthinking, of inboxes breeding stress that stacked like Jenga blocks. It was the year I had my first panic attack, the year my nervous system began fighting against me.
So when Matthias suggested laziness as a skill rather than a failing, I decided to treat my stay like a masterclass.
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The island reveals itself to you slowly. Sat on the Maldives' North Ari Atoll, the brand new collection of villas sprawl over two private islands stitched together by a walkway over a bright blue lagoon. My villa, a Deluxe Water Pool Villa on the quieter North Island, stood on stilts above water. Inside, pale woods and cool stone created a sanctuary that felt both curated and uncontrived. Outside, nurse sharks and stingrays played beneath the deck while I lay on my sun-warmed loungers. Watching their shadows drift across the sand below, I could feel myself unwinding by the minute.
Privacy at ananea Madivaru is totally engineered. Staying on the north side meant breakfast and evening drinks unfolded at the more secluded outposts rather than the main restaurant hub. Mornings were spent at the edge of the sea, coffee in hand, with only the hush of waves and the clink of cutlery to hear. Even the path back to my villa felt cinematic, palm trees arching overhead and tropical flowers flashing fuchsia. Sometimes we would whizz along in a buggy, wind in our hair, the air full of salt and frangipani.
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The resort itself is immaculate but has the soul of an inhabited island; landscaped to perfection but still natural enough to feel alive. There is a dive centre, a recreation hub, and a huge, main infinity pool at the heart of the resort. In the evenings, we would perch at the Paradise Beach Club, watching the sky turn pink behind a live acoustic set.
And then there is the food. I have travelled for meals before, planned entire weekends around restaurant reservations, but dining on this island is in a league of its own. Hosting nine restaurants, each with its own identity, means you can taste your way across continents without ever leaving the beach. The quality of the food was unlike anything I have ever experienced at a hotel. You would struggle for a booking at every single restaurant if they were to pop up in London.
The Maldivian kitchen at the Asian Food Street became my quick obsession. Fragrant curries, coconut-rich broths, spices that were both warming and unfamiliar. It was comfort food that introduced me to flavours. But the most unforgettable evening was at Luna. Sat between the two islands, the water lapping gently beneath the floorboards, dining there felt almost theatrical, but still elevated and intimate. It was a dining experience I will never forget. Even the more casual lunches, like freshly caught seafood and lazy buffet breakfasts, felt considered.
Being surrounded by water meant that you could easily fill your days with water sports, whether that be kayaking on the lagoon or snorkelling along the islands' reefs. But my favourite moment of the trip happened offshore.
I have always been a water baby, at my happiest submerged beneath the waves. When we set out to swim with manta rays, the guide gently managed expectations. Sometimes you see a few, he said. Sometimes none. The ocean is not a zoo. But then they arrived.
Not one or two, but a squadron of around twenty enormous manta rays, looping and gliding beneath us. They were beautiful and gentle and utterly unbothered by our presence. At one point, one swept so close I could see the intricate patterns on its belly. The water was so warm that I swam down a meter or so with our guide and just floated there among them for as long as I could hold my breath. I felt my anxiety dissolve, awe leaving very little room for panic.
Back on land, my calm continued at the overwater spa. Kandu Spa is its own destination, treatment rooms sat above the lagoon so you can hear the sea beneath you. I arrived with a mental to-do list that had followed me from London like a shadow. I left it somewhere between the treatment room and the yoga pavilion.
The island did not fix my life, it did something more useful. It reminded my body what calm feels like. It showed me that rest can be deliberate and practised. Over three nights, my nervous system stopped sounding the alarm, sleep came easily, and my thoughts untangled themselves.
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On my final evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the lagoon turned the colour of ink, I asked Matthias whether many guests struggle to switch off. “All of them,” he replied.
Later, I noticed the tattoo inked along his arm. ‘Time you enjoy wasting is not time wasted’, it read. For the first time all year, I believed it.
Prices for seven nights half board plus in a Deluxe Water Pool Villa start from £4249pp.
To book, visit www.kuoni.co.uk, call 0808 239 2913, pop into a Kuoni store or through travel agents.
