The Maldives is truly paradise on earth (move over Hawaii!). It is purely an island nation, with more than 1,000 little islands dotting 26 atolls in the Indian Ocean. On many of the inhabited islands one finds that cars are pointless, which is entirely refreshing. Time is fairly elastic, and you are never more than a leisurely stroll from turquoise waters. This is a place you come to disconnect from everything - it seems to exist in a place separate from space, time, and in many cases - technology. After a few days, you can really see yourself pulling a Carrie Bradshaw and just hurling your cell phone into the ocean… never to be seen again…

We landed in Male, the international airport of the Maldives, and found ourselves whisked away to the sea plane terminal. I had not mentally prepared myself for the sea plane experience (and, much worse, had not prepared for the multiple ascents/descents and the impact they would have on Sophie’s ears) but except for the discomfort of my poor, miserable, ear-pressured daughter, the flight was absolutely breathtaking. As soon as we landed at the island at the Palm Beach Resort and walked onto the sparkling white sand, I looked down at my loafers and wondered how fast I could get those things off. Nothing but flip flops graced the Crawford-Einfeldt family feet for the next 9 days.

Our bungalow faced the sunrise side (although I can assure you, we are NOT sunrise people), which afforded us welcome afternoon shade, a virtually deserted white sand beach except for a large, scenic piece of driftwood, a coral reef, and bathtub-warm turquoise waters in which to swim (for hundreds of meters out, never more than about 4 1/2 feet deep!). Serenely swaying on our beachfront porch was a comfortable swing - big enough for stretching out - which I dubbed the “Therapy Swing”. Many hours were spent by me in “therapy” ….swinging, reading paperbacks, and napping.

With a beautiful ocean, a big swimming pool, and even a child’s pool, we were startled to discover that Sophie’s preferred water fun centered around 2 fixtures: our outdoor foot-cleaning faucet (just at the right level for Sophie to enjoy), and the BIDET in our open-air bathroom. There was just very little we could do about that. I admonished her as to the naughtiness of wasting fresh water on a small tropical island, but she ignored me 100%. Only copious amounts of baby cookies could lure her away from the prospect of bidet-splash-fun. (Soenke suggested firm discipline, but how can you administer firm discipline while in an advanced state of relaxation??).

All meals were served in open-air dining rooms with a huge variety of tantalizing choices. Of course, my daughter embarked on a hunger strike immediately upon our arrival, and refused to eat just about anything other than FRENCH FRIES the entire time, much to my embarrassment (since, being the center of attention of doting Italian vacationers and hotel staff, all her habits were noted by others with interest). Oh wait… she ate ice cream too. Normally, I feed my child such mega-healthy items as beets, lentils, and tofu. Really. I do. But back to the meals (which were served in buffet form) - I quickly befriended the very-personable chef and shared with him my favorite dishes that I had sampled on the buffet. Each night, he would point me to any eggplant dishes, and advise me if gnocchis were on the menu. As an incredibly kind gesture, he made all of my favorites at once the last night we were there: Eggplant parmigiana (it was an Italian-owned resort and the Italian food was AWESOME), something called “dahl” which seemed to be a red lentil dish (YUMMMM), gnocchi in gorgonzola sauce (I’m still drooling… and still working off the calories)…and a minty flan-like dessert that sent me into the stratosphere.

Since our island was one of the bigger resort islands - 2 km in length - I quickly scored myself a bicycle and proceeded to toodle back and forth across the island with relish. This was almost more effective therapy than the Therapy Swing. Bicycle, flip flops, tank top, sand, palm trees… no stress here! If we were too lazy, we could call one of the many electric-powered golf carts to come chauffeur us to dinner or the sunset. Soenke normally preferred to stroll around the island with Sophie up on his shoulders - she LOVED this vantagepoint, and particularly the opportunity to administer vigorous hair-pulling (the louder and more painful Soenke’s protests, the more jubilant her laughter).

In between lazy mornings in the ocean, or lazy afternoons at the pool, Soenke and I took turns babysitting the Sophster while the other indulged a solo endeavor. My pleasure was the hotel’s absolutely heavenly SPA… my first massage - a 1 1/2 hour endeavor to relieve my body of 3 months worth of tax season stress - was in an air-conditioned cabana directly on the water. All I could hear was the slapping of the waves on the little sea wall outside. Afterwards, I felt like I needed to try that again, so I booked the same thing for the following day. Soenke saw the visible improvements in my demeanor and urged me on to a facial and a pedicure, and even encouraged me to buy a pair of overpriced turquoise-studded flip flops at the little spa store (I love you babe!). In grateful return, I granted Soenke several afternoon snorkling trips, where he saw a sea turtle, a shark, manta rays, the coral reef, colorful fish, and other miscellaneous underwater life.

Possibly the highlight of the trip for me was the experience of evening sunsets at the northern tip of the island. We usually shared the expanse of sand with only a few other vacationers, and sipped a cool drink while contemplating life, the color of that evening’s sunset display, and eventually the stars. Sophie ate hungrily from the “free banana” bunch hanging from the beach-bar rafters (thank GOD, finally something healthy!), and we felt a deep sense of gratitude at our wonderful life together.

I could go on for hours, but as they say… a picture is worth a thousand words. And pictures we have…..

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Here is a beautiful satellite image of the Maldives:

The seaplane which whisked us away to our island resort:

At close quarters in there!

Soenke & Sophie waste no time in finding the water:

Here is a small video of our island digs (note: it is NOT our private beach.. perhaps in my dreams it is, but I would like to clarify for the record!)

Hard island work:

An evening soccer match between father & daughter:

An island-looking Sophster (in mid blink…)

Sophie discovers our open-air bathroom, and the Sophie-level bidet in particular:

The view from our “front yard”:

At the end of the island:

Looking back towards the island:

Only watch this if you can handle experiencing a quiet 45 seconds of paradise:

An upward look through the palm trees:

One very happy family!

Pool dwellers:

This was a nice place to while away every afternoon:

Which is exactly what I did…

Paradise!!!!

Someone likes the Maldives!

The supply boat brings us more good grub:

Me and my island wheels:

Sunset at the point:

Mealtime!

So sad to say goodbye… (particularly at 6am!)

A peek in the cockpit:

Here’s what it’s like to take off in a seaplane (uh, turn your volume up to FULL BLAST for the really authentic effect) - excuse bad filming, but I had a squirmy 18-month-old on my lap:

Some amazing in-flight views:

An interesting view of the harbor overlooking the capital of Male, while on the bus between the sea planes & the main terminal:

A final “exit interview” at the Male airport in the Maldives:

For those of you who think we are always on vacation (and yes, that IS the goal…), it is November when we take our Really Big Vacation - right after my busy tax time. “Really Big” means somewhere farther away and more thrilling than usual, and is designed to keep me from completely throwing in the towel about halfway through tax season.

This year found us en route to the Maldives, with a 3-day stopover in Doha, Qatar. Now, I titled this little piece “Doha Discovered”, because the most frequent response to my comment about stopping over in Doha was: “where?” Sad, but true (guess not everyone was watching the first gulf war’s reports back in the 80s…)

Qatar is located on a peninsula in the Persian Gulf, located somewhat northerly of Dubai. At the risk of greatly offending the fine Qatari people, I would vastly oversimplify and say that Doha seems to the untrained eye to be what Dubai was 5 to 8 years ago, without immediate signs of completely giddy and wild construction explosion (although construction is nearly everywhere). Upon descent into Doha via plane, one’s overall sense is “wow, SAND.” Lots of sand. Sand and water. And, if you look more closely, “Wow, MONEY!!” With per-capita GDP the highest in the world, we are talking rich country numero uno. Hence the luxed-out SUVs touring the jammed streets (yes, traffic is already LA-quality), the many sparkling new upmarket shopping malls, the gorgeous new highrises and housing (no, VILLA) developments springing out of the earth, the second soccer stadium (this one underground) under construction in a country of less than a million residents, and - perhaps best of all, if you live there - no income tax, totally free healthcare, and gasoline at well under a dollar per gallon!

You get a good cross section of the population during a visit to any one of the city’s shopping malls: Qataris in local garb (men: white robes with white or white-/red-checked headress held by black cord; women: usually head-to-toe black, usually even with face covering, and nowadays with gold decoration on sleeves), Westerners in Western garb (most probably working for some sort of energy company there), and the imported population which does all the non-professional jobs (mainly south Asians and other Arabs). In public, everyone seems to get along just fine, although I would certainly not wish to be one of the imported, nonprofessional workerbee population because workers’ rights here (and throughout the Gulf) are pretty atrocious.

With only a two days to see the sights and a high-maintenance toddler on board, we opted for a simple program. Since taxis are difficult to find while out and about (something we learned the first day after a challenging trip to the City Centre mall to do some emergency warm-weather-clothes shopping for Sophie), we hired a driver (about EUR 10 per hour) to whisk us around the city for an afternoon. First stop, the Corniche, which is a sweeping promenade along the bay, reaching several kilometers from the ziggurat-shaped Sheraton hotel over to the far other side containing I-don’t-know-what (perhaps a new museum under construction?). After Sophie had expended her sense of exploration, we settled down and found a fishing boat willing to take us on a 30-minute tour of the bay, so we could enjoy an unobstructed view of the interesting architecture of the downtown area. It was well worth it, even when the boat’s sole captain spent most of the trip plucking his nose hair in a little mirror instead of observing the direction of the boat.

Next, our driver gave us a good taste of Doha traffic en route to the Villagio Mall - an italian-themed undertaking which piqued our curiosity with promises of gondola rides and really great A/C (yup, it’s HOT in Doha). We crawled past endless “compounds” (so they are called) of newly-constructed communities straight out of Orange County, CA in the 80s. Peach, beige, uniform, and very Mediterranean/Californian in styling. All are protected by very high walls (I didn’t think there was any crime in Qatar, however) and fancy, Arab-style gates. Outside of the compounds are various strip malls - intermingled with traditional Gulf stores will one find the occasional Dairy Queen, KFC, and western-style coffee house.

When I laid eyes on Villagio Mall, I really thought I was back in California (or at least, Las Vegas). These MUST be the same architects. If the US hasn’t won the “hearts and minds” of the Gulf peoples, it certainly has won their shopping malls. Qatari women shopped busily with an entourage of Philippino maids, bearing both their shopping bags and children. Then, American women looking just like me, with babies looking just like Sophie, hung out at Starbucks, talking about the same stuff we talk about “back home”. It was somewhat surreal. In a moment of delightful cultural connection, a Qatari 20-something gal in head-to-toe black (with face covering - only heavily-makeup’d eyes showing) stopped to chat with me and coo over Sophie. Sophie was unphased by all the black, and we enjoyed a talk about the cuteness of small children for a few moments before she rejoined her girlfriends and continued on. As in Dubai, I felt again like I was in the 21st century’s “crossroads of the world” here in the Gulf.

After concluding a bit of shopping and a tex-mex snack at Chili’s, we continued onward (a bit speedily, as the sun was already setting at 4:30pm) to the nearby camel racetracks. Here, we had our driver take us to the camel pens so we could give Sophie a look at these interesting animals. The trainers/handlers seemed happy to have visitors, and attempted an animated conversation in flowing Arabic while we smiled and felt a bit bewildered. Sophie ignored them and kept making her “horsey” sounds to the highly-interested camels. It was great!

Our final evening in Doha was spent in the hotel swimming pool, which sported a fine swim-up bar. I thought I would enjoy an aperitif from the comfort of my swimsuit, and ordered a glass of sparkling wine. The Bangladeshi-looking bartender ruefully advised me that no alcohol was allowed to be served at the pool bar after 6pm. C’est la vie, in Muslim countries you learn to love a pre-dinner glass of orange juice.

On November 11th, we bid Doha a fond farewell and headed excitedly to the airport for Phase Two of our mission…

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Doha photos/videos follow:

At our hotel (the Ramada Plaza - very nice businessman’s hotel in the center of things), Sophie is ready for ACTION:

A downtown angle, from our speeding taxi…

God’s gift to baby clothes!!!!

A satisfying lunch at no other than…TGI Fridays!

Then we went for a walk along the corniche (promenade):

Where the local women also get their exercise!

A very windy video from the Corniche:

I thought a little ride in an Arabic dhow (fishing boat) would give us a nice vantage of the downtown skyline:

And so here we are!

The skyline has some unique architecture…

Particularly this building with the suspended sphere in the middle:

Afterwards, we spotted this old firetruck from our taxi:

And soon arrived at the Italian-themed Villagio Mall:

Which looked a whole lot like the Venetian in Las Vegas!

This video will make you wonder if you’re in Qatar or Las Vegas:

Across the street is the showcase Khalifa soccer stadium, which is particularly impressive when lit at night:

Off to the airport, en route to the Maldives - an outside position at the Doha International Airport:

Soenke forgot his earplugs (it was LOUD):

Up up we go !!!!!!!!