Once the excitement of being in a new country stopped being so overwhelming, the poverty of the place settled in like an oppressive blanket over my mind. It reminded me in a visceral way of the hutongs and dirt villages in the poor parts of China.
Off of the capital island, we didn't see any paved roads. The only bit of ground that wasn't sand that we encountered were the strips by the harbor. Everywhere else, even the "main" streets through the islands, were all variously packed sand. There was sand everywhere, and keeping the properties cleared of sand seemed to be a consuming task. Everywhere we went, there were people sweeping the sand, picking out debris like fallen leaves and fruits, clearing the sand off their doorsteps, smoothing out the road that had been churned up by passing feet and wheels. Some roads were so neglected that the sand had turned soft and piled in awkward moguls that were hard to navigate.
On the beaches, there was of course more sand. The beach sand was very rough, being comprised of chunky, broken up bits of shell and coral. Walking barefoot over it was surprisingly painful and challenging, as the large particles tended to be loosely packed and shifted underfoot. It certainly wasn't the fine-grained, smooth white sand beach I was expecting, but then again, there was no real reason why I expected such.
The islands had no apparent source of fresh water, which puzzled us, until our fishing guide enlightened us. In Nilandhoo, Latheef told us that they have wells which provide fresh water, but they were very susceptible to the ocean's currents. For example, a tsunami that came through churned up the ground water so badly that it turned brackish, and they couldn't drink from the wells for a long time. In the past, the wells stood open to the air, and the incredible amounts of sulfur in the water tended to evaporate, so that the water people consumed wasn't so .... well, stinky. Nowadays, the wells are enclosed, with modern plumbing to collect and distribute the water. The sulfur has no chance of escaping, and so the ground water smells like the devil's own farts.
To supplement their fresh water, there are Unicef and other donated rain collection barrels. Practically every property had one, enormous black round tubs with pipes snaking out in every direction. Latheef told us that if the sulfur was too much for us, they could flip a switch and only use the rain water, but we wanted the full experience, so we opted to try their native mix. Looking back, lacking that option on Mathiveri, I personally wish we had gone for the sulfur-free offer while we had the chance. To be fair, the smell wasn't deadly or noxious, it was just .... irritating. Ah well.
The saddest thing for me was watching the girls. On the rest days, all the children came out and played in their casual clothing, girls and boys together in their t-shirts and shorts. Come the school days, everyone would stuff themselves into uniform, but those uniforms gradually changed for the girls -- from classic schoolgirl shirt-and-skirt to the full Muslim regalia -- while the boys stayed with their classic schoolboy shirt-and-slacks no matter how old they got.
The boys were very boisterous and frequently greeted us with hollered "Hello!"s, while the girls tended to be more reserved. The older people were varied in their response to us as well -- I felt a couple of suspicious stares, and got a few smiles and nods -- but for the most part, they refrained from speaking to us. We didn't see many working-aged men while we were there, presumably because they were all out fishing or working in the capital.
Overall, it struck me how different the resort islands were from the local islands. It really felt like stepping into another world when we transferred to Casa Mia, or when we made a quick transfer at another resort on a different island to get onto the seaplane. I'm astonished that there's this clear-cut separation, but I guess that just shows my naivete. I hope the tourism industry manages to have positive impact on the lives of the locals.
2014-11-02
Honestly Maldives, Part 4: Mathiveri
TL ; DR
Venue: Mathiveri Inn
Cost: $90 per night, pay at the end.
Benefits: Room and full board, access to day trips for additional pay.
Recommendation: Give this one a pass. They're not ready for Western-style commerce yet.
Venue: Casa Mia
Cost: $180 per night, pay at the end.
Benefits: Room and full board, access to day trips for additional pay.
Recommendation: These guys are terrific! Just watch out for the mosquitoes.
Brace yourselves, this is a long one. On the bright side, photos! :D
Getting from Nilandhoo to Mathiveri was a rather arduous affair. We got up at around 4 AM, so that we could have breakfast and take the boat to Maamigili. On the boat, we got to see sunrise, but it was still a rather sea-sickening several-hour-long boat ride. There was a wait at Maamigili before we boarded our flight back to Male at around 11 AM. The flight itself was very short, but the waiting was really annoying.
At Male, we were again met by Latheef, who showed us to lunch, pointed out the ferry, and wandered off to let us do whatever we wanted until it was time to catch our ferry -- another several-hour wait. We took the opportunity to grab some food that wasn't fish (Thai!) and send out postcards.
The ferry from the airport to Male city proper was quick, but then we had to get around to the other side of the island. With our luggage, that was a bit tricky, since the streets were not exactly smooth. Latheef appeared again, and helped us hail a taxi, then followed us on his mo-ped. There were a lot of mo-peds and motorcycles.
We waited on a stone block -- too big for a bench, but not sure what other purpose it's supposed to serve -- next to a coconut stand. We got a pair of coconuts while we waited; they were lovely. I gawked at the graffiti everywhere, the construction -- both in-progress and abandoned, and the ocean and its bizarre sea wall, made of piled concrete "jacks".
The next ferry took us to the island of Rasdhoo, where we were greeted by staff from the inn we were staying. We transferred from the ferry to a speed boat to Mathiveri, our luggage following us magically. By this time, the sun was setting, and we had been up and traveling for something like 14 hours.
At Mathiveri, we were greeted by the innkeeper, Ismael. He led us to the restaurant attached to the inn, Pizza Palace, across the street from the mosque. We chatted for a bit, but finally we were shown to our rooms. After resting and refreshing ourselves, we ventured back out for dinner.
On the first day, we wandered around the island taking photos of its various inhabitants. By far the most populous were the crabs. They were indisputable kings of the sand, their burrows pockmarking the beach with obvious and not-so-obvious holes. The children, on their days off school, ran around the island, racing on foot and on bicycles, leaping off the sea walls and into the shallow waters. The birds and bats mostly kept to themselves, occasionally doing a fly-by or fluttering off indignantly when we got too close. The tiny lizards scampered about, clinging to walls, hiding in foliage, scuttling over the sand. The rats, thankfully, stayed up in the fruit trees and left us well alone. One day at dinner, an enterprising cockroach climbed up my arm, scaring the ever-loving shit -- and a most undignified shriek -- out of me. My husband retaliated by stomping on it after I'd brushed it off my shoulder. Such gallantry!
The third day of our stay, we went on a Manta expedition with one of the other inn guests, a gorgeous Russian lady. We only saw 2 manta, one of which was hilariously and very sadly being chased through the water by about 20 life-jacket wearing snorkelers. After boating around a bit, we gave up and instead went snorkeling on one of the bigger, deeper reefs in the area. It was beautiful. There was an amazing profusion of shapes and colors, and all sorts of fish. My husband even saw a sea turtle! We each dove down to examine an enormous scalloped shell that was about the size of my torso, sitting open and inviting on the reef. I got a terrible sun burn that day, but it was totally worth it.
Eventually, we settled into a routine. We got up -- if we were lucky enough to sleep through the 4 AM prayer -- around 8 or 9 AM. After breakfast (and a prayer), we retreated back to our room to hide from the heat and the sun. We re-emerged at around 1 or 2 PM for lunch (and a prayer), after which we would bide our time until 4 PM. Finally, when the sun dipped low enough that my tender, pale husband could be confident that he wouldn't turn into a lobster crisp, we would venture out and go snorkeling, or roll around on the beach, or otherwise sun ourselves (actually just myself, while my husband continued to hide from the sun). After the outing, we would return to our room, shower, and go have dinner (and a prayer). Some nights, we would go out again after dinner, and walk along the star-lit sea. If you had a flashlight, you could occasionally see baby rays and tiny sharks swimming about in the shallows. They were ridiculously cute!
Despite the restful, idyllic nature of our stay, it was not without frustrations. Mathiveri is a local island, which meant it obeyed Shariah. This meant there was no pork, no alcohol, and no bikinis. For men, this was not a terrible thing, since they could still wander around with just swim trunks on, but for women, it meant we had to swim fully clothed. We chose Mathiveri Inn despite all these restrictions, because on its website, it advertised that there was a small, uninhabited island to which we could swim or wade, on which we would be able to wear bikinis.
While this is technically true, let me add the following clarifications: Swimming out to the deserted island means swimming, fully clothed, to a place where you can strip down to your bikini. Following this to its logical conclusion, this means that when you want to return, you'll have to put on your clothing -- usually still sodden, and now covered with sand -- and swim back. Then walk to the inn in your sopping wet, salty and clingy clothes. In case you're wondering, this is very uncomfortable. Wading out to the island, I had originally expected a short, shallow slog through the sea. Nope. Wading out to the island involves about a 1/3 mile walk, through water that got about rib-deep, at low tide. Let me emphasize this: The wading was about 4 feet deep at low tide, and was a third of a mile long. Oh, by the way, in case you missed it, this is wading through the sea. There's a pretty strong ocean current that you'll have to fight the entire way there, all 1/3 mile of it.
The most comfortable and convenient way to get to the island, then, is to ask for a boat. The trickiest part of this is the asking -- you have to find someone who understands enough English, and has enough knowledge of the inn's business, to actually get you that boat. Once that minor hurdle is cleared, you're good to go. For the low, low price of $5 for a 2-minute boat trip, you can get dropped off and picked up whenever you desire, to be specified ahead of time.
The inn itself also left certain things to be desired. Though the room was adequate, it lacked certain Western comforts. There were no windows, the entire room being one completely enclosed concrete box. Thankfully, there was an air conditioner to keep the air moving, and relatively cool. The water was, of course, incredibly sulfurous. Indeed, every time we braved the shower, it stank like the fart of Satan himself. The entire bathroom was, again, the shower, and anytime we washed, the toilet became drenched. At least the water heater worked.
The attached restaurant had 2 employees, a chef and a waiter. Neither man knew English particularly well. They had enough words to say "good morning, sir" and "good evening, ma'am" but they didn't know their own menu. Let me re-emphasize this. Neither the chef, nor the waiter, knew their own menu. In fact, the waiter was so incapable that he refused, on several occasions, to take our orders for anything other than drinks.
In addition to refusing to take our order, referring us instead to the chef, the waiter was laughably awful at setting the table. The poor boy would come with a tray, on which rested 2 place mats, then take several minutes to arrange them on the table. Then he would go back for silverware, taking another several minutes to meticulously set and straighten each individual fork, knife, and spoon. Finally, he would go back and retrieve 2 appetizer plates and 2 folded napkins, and set them with deliberate care in the center of the place mats, taking another few minutes. The whole process took so long, I wanted to scream. What was the point of setting a fork to within a millimeter of its life, when I'm just going to pick it up and shove it into my mouth (preferably with food attached)? And all this, before we can even order water!
When the chef finally arrived to take our orders, he was largely incomprehensible, and failed repeated to grasp the concept that I, an individual human being, might possibly want to order an item that differed from my husband's order! It was as if the concept of individuality had never occurred to him. Every time we requested a dish, he would ask, "Two?" to which we would reply, with mounting frustration, "No, just ONE!" The chef finally got it around day 3 or 4, but by then, I was so fed up with the whole ordeal that I began to dread meal times.
Beyond the difficulty with simple communication, there was the issue of actual service. We would regularly fail to get our order correctly, sometimes even failing to receive what we'd ordered completely. I'm pretty sure that when we left, there were still two plates of cut fruit sitting around somewhere, waiting forlornly for someone to deliver them to our tables. On one occasion, we waited at breakfast, having finished our main course, idly killing time until we got our fruit plates. At last, impatient and fed up, we went to look for the staff. They were gone. Both the chef and the waiter had simply up and left, leaving us to our own devices, without ever checking in or making sure we'd even gotten everything we were expecting.
Terrible service aside, the food wasn't even that good -- their pizza and grilled fish were about the best they had to offer. We took to alternating between fish and pizza, simply to keep ourselves adequately fed and calorically positive. On average, the meals took about 2 hours each, and were absolutely the worst part of our stay.
On the second to last day of our stay, my husband and I could no longer stand the 6 hours of waste and frustration it took to feed ourselves, as well as the other inconveniences and discomforts of staying across the street from the mosque (and its blaring loudspeakers). We moved over to Casa Mia, a resort run by a Brit located a few minutes walk away on the same island, which had its own pool (???), buffet-style cafeteria, and most importantly for me, its own private bikini beach.
We received the impetus to move when, on a cool and rainy day, we decided to explore the foreign resort, and maybe learn to scuba dive. Although the dive itself terrified me, the experience was overall quite positive, and so well executed that I didn't want to go back to the sloppy irregularity of native island service.
The Casa Mia staff moved us over that evening after our dive, and we joined them for a decent buffet dinner. My husband went out to the booze cruise, aboard the Blue Pearl, a 2-mast (+ engine) ship anchored just off-shore and thus (??) not forbidden from possessing alcohol. I was exhausted, so I stayed in and napped, but he had a grand ol' time, drinkin' beer and chatting up a group of German scuba divers who had just come in from Dahab, Egypt (which is apparently an awesome diving location).
The next day, I knew we'd made the right choice when, after breakfast, I tossed off my clothes and went snorkeling in my bikini without a care in the world. After swimming around the reefs and getting my fill of all the pretty fish, I sunned my tummy in the lounge chairs on the beach. The dear husband came to retrieve me when he judged that I had been out long enough to possibly burn myself (I ran out without sunblock), and we went back inside to cool off until lunch. After lunch, I went out again. It's amazing how I never seem to get tired of staring at the little fish. After dinner, we both went out to the booze cruise, lounging on the deck with its cushions and staring off into the night. I nursed my gin & tonic while my husband had more beers, and we shot the shit with the dive staff.
This, the last full day, was probably the best day of our entire vacation.
Venue: Mathiveri Inn
Cost: $90 per night, pay at the end.
Benefits: Room and full board, access to day trips for additional pay.
Recommendation: Give this one a pass. They're not ready for Western-style commerce yet.
Venue: Casa Mia
Cost: $180 per night, pay at the end.
Benefits: Room and full board, access to day trips for additional pay.
Recommendation: These guys are terrific! Just watch out for the mosquitoes.
Brace yourselves, this is a long one. On the bright side, photos! :D
Getting from Nilandhoo to Mathiveri was a rather arduous affair. We got up at around 4 AM, so that we could have breakfast and take the boat to Maamigili. On the boat, we got to see sunrise, but it was still a rather sea-sickening several-hour-long boat ride. There was a wait at Maamigili before we boarded our flight back to Male at around 11 AM. The flight itself was very short, but the waiting was really annoying.
At Male, we were again met by Latheef, who showed us to lunch, pointed out the ferry, and wandered off to let us do whatever we wanted until it was time to catch our ferry -- another several-hour wait. We took the opportunity to grab some food that wasn't fish (Thai!) and send out postcards.
The ferry from the airport to Male city proper was quick, but then we had to get around to the other side of the island. With our luggage, that was a bit tricky, since the streets were not exactly smooth. Latheef appeared again, and helped us hail a taxi, then followed us on his mo-ped. There were a lot of mo-peds and motorcycles.
We waited on a stone block -- too big for a bench, but not sure what other purpose it's supposed to serve -- next to a coconut stand. We got a pair of coconuts while we waited; they were lovely. I gawked at the graffiti everywhere, the construction -- both in-progress and abandoned, and the ocean and its bizarre sea wall, made of piled concrete "jacks".
The next ferry took us to the island of Rasdhoo, where we were greeted by staff from the inn we were staying. We transferred from the ferry to a speed boat to Mathiveri, our luggage following us magically. By this time, the sun was setting, and we had been up and traveling for something like 14 hours.
At Mathiveri, we were greeted by the innkeeper, Ismael. He led us to the restaurant attached to the inn, Pizza Palace, across the street from the mosque. We chatted for a bit, but finally we were shown to our rooms. After resting and refreshing ourselves, we ventured back out for dinner.
On the first day, we wandered around the island taking photos of its various inhabitants. By far the most populous were the crabs. They were indisputable kings of the sand, their burrows pockmarking the beach with obvious and not-so-obvious holes. The children, on their days off school, ran around the island, racing on foot and on bicycles, leaping off the sea walls and into the shallow waters. The birds and bats mostly kept to themselves, occasionally doing a fly-by or fluttering off indignantly when we got too close. The tiny lizards scampered about, clinging to walls, hiding in foliage, scuttling over the sand. The rats, thankfully, stayed up in the fruit trees and left us well alone. One day at dinner, an enterprising cockroach climbed up my arm, scaring the ever-loving shit -- and a most undignified shriek -- out of me. My husband retaliated by stomping on it after I'd brushed it off my shoulder. Such gallantry!
The third day of our stay, we went on a Manta expedition with one of the other inn guests, a gorgeous Russian lady. We only saw 2 manta, one of which was hilariously and very sadly being chased through the water by about 20 life-jacket wearing snorkelers. After boating around a bit, we gave up and instead went snorkeling on one of the bigger, deeper reefs in the area. It was beautiful. There was an amazing profusion of shapes and colors, and all sorts of fish. My husband even saw a sea turtle! We each dove down to examine an enormous scalloped shell that was about the size of my torso, sitting open and inviting on the reef. I got a terrible sun burn that day, but it was totally worth it.
Eventually, we settled into a routine. We got up -- if we were lucky enough to sleep through the 4 AM prayer -- around 8 or 9 AM. After breakfast (and a prayer), we retreated back to our room to hide from the heat and the sun. We re-emerged at around 1 or 2 PM for lunch (and a prayer), after which we would bide our time until 4 PM. Finally, when the sun dipped low enough that my tender, pale husband could be confident that he wouldn't turn into a lobster crisp, we would venture out and go snorkeling, or roll around on the beach, or otherwise sun ourselves (actually just myself, while my husband continued to hide from the sun). After the outing, we would return to our room, shower, and go have dinner (and a prayer). Some nights, we would go out again after dinner, and walk along the star-lit sea. If you had a flashlight, you could occasionally see baby rays and tiny sharks swimming about in the shallows. They were ridiculously cute!
Despite the restful, idyllic nature of our stay, it was not without frustrations. Mathiveri is a local island, which meant it obeyed Shariah. This meant there was no pork, no alcohol, and no bikinis. For men, this was not a terrible thing, since they could still wander around with just swim trunks on, but for women, it meant we had to swim fully clothed. We chose Mathiveri Inn despite all these restrictions, because on its website, it advertised that there was a small, uninhabited island to which we could swim or wade, on which we would be able to wear bikinis.
While this is technically true, let me add the following clarifications: Swimming out to the deserted island means swimming, fully clothed, to a place where you can strip down to your bikini. Following this to its logical conclusion, this means that when you want to return, you'll have to put on your clothing -- usually still sodden, and now covered with sand -- and swim back. Then walk to the inn in your sopping wet, salty and clingy clothes. In case you're wondering, this is very uncomfortable. Wading out to the island, I had originally expected a short, shallow slog through the sea. Nope. Wading out to the island involves about a 1/3 mile walk, through water that got about rib-deep, at low tide. Let me emphasize this: The wading was about 4 feet deep at low tide, and was a third of a mile long. Oh, by the way, in case you missed it, this is wading through the sea. There's a pretty strong ocean current that you'll have to fight the entire way there, all 1/3 mile of it.
The most comfortable and convenient way to get to the island, then, is to ask for a boat. The trickiest part of this is the asking -- you have to find someone who understands enough English, and has enough knowledge of the inn's business, to actually get you that boat. Once that minor hurdle is cleared, you're good to go. For the low, low price of $5 for a 2-minute boat trip, you can get dropped off and picked up whenever you desire, to be specified ahead of time.
The inn itself also left certain things to be desired. Though the room was adequate, it lacked certain Western comforts. There were no windows, the entire room being one completely enclosed concrete box. Thankfully, there was an air conditioner to keep the air moving, and relatively cool. The water was, of course, incredibly sulfurous. Indeed, every time we braved the shower, it stank like the fart of Satan himself. The entire bathroom was, again, the shower, and anytime we washed, the toilet became drenched. At least the water heater worked.
The attached restaurant had 2 employees, a chef and a waiter. Neither man knew English particularly well. They had enough words to say "good morning, sir" and "good evening, ma'am" but they didn't know their own menu. Let me re-emphasize this. Neither the chef, nor the waiter, knew their own menu. In fact, the waiter was so incapable that he refused, on several occasions, to take our orders for anything other than drinks.
In addition to refusing to take our order, referring us instead to the chef, the waiter was laughably awful at setting the table. The poor boy would come with a tray, on which rested 2 place mats, then take several minutes to arrange them on the table. Then he would go back for silverware, taking another several minutes to meticulously set and straighten each individual fork, knife, and spoon. Finally, he would go back and retrieve 2 appetizer plates and 2 folded napkins, and set them with deliberate care in the center of the place mats, taking another few minutes. The whole process took so long, I wanted to scream. What was the point of setting a fork to within a millimeter of its life, when I'm just going to pick it up and shove it into my mouth (preferably with food attached)? And all this, before we can even order water!
When the chef finally arrived to take our orders, he was largely incomprehensible, and failed repeated to grasp the concept that I, an individual human being, might possibly want to order an item that differed from my husband's order! It was as if the concept of individuality had never occurred to him. Every time we requested a dish, he would ask, "Two?" to which we would reply, with mounting frustration, "No, just ONE!" The chef finally got it around day 3 or 4, but by then, I was so fed up with the whole ordeal that I began to dread meal times.
Beyond the difficulty with simple communication, there was the issue of actual service. We would regularly fail to get our order correctly, sometimes even failing to receive what we'd ordered completely. I'm pretty sure that when we left, there were still two plates of cut fruit sitting around somewhere, waiting forlornly for someone to deliver them to our tables. On one occasion, we waited at breakfast, having finished our main course, idly killing time until we got our fruit plates. At last, impatient and fed up, we went to look for the staff. They were gone. Both the chef and the waiter had simply up and left, leaving us to our own devices, without ever checking in or making sure we'd even gotten everything we were expecting.
Terrible service aside, the food wasn't even that good -- their pizza and grilled fish were about the best they had to offer. We took to alternating between fish and pizza, simply to keep ourselves adequately fed and calorically positive. On average, the meals took about 2 hours each, and were absolutely the worst part of our stay.
On the second to last day of our stay, my husband and I could no longer stand the 6 hours of waste and frustration it took to feed ourselves, as well as the other inconveniences and discomforts of staying across the street from the mosque (and its blaring loudspeakers). We moved over to Casa Mia, a resort run by a Brit located a few minutes walk away on the same island, which had its own pool (???), buffet-style cafeteria, and most importantly for me, its own private bikini beach.
We received the impetus to move when, on a cool and rainy day, we decided to explore the foreign resort, and maybe learn to scuba dive. Although the dive itself terrified me, the experience was overall quite positive, and so well executed that I didn't want to go back to the sloppy irregularity of native island service.
The Casa Mia staff moved us over that evening after our dive, and we joined them for a decent buffet dinner. My husband went out to the booze cruise, aboard the Blue Pearl, a 2-mast (+ engine) ship anchored just off-shore and thus (??) not forbidden from possessing alcohol. I was exhausted, so I stayed in and napped, but he had a grand ol' time, drinkin' beer and chatting up a group of German scuba divers who had just come in from Dahab, Egypt (which is apparently an awesome diving location).
The next day, I knew we'd made the right choice when, after breakfast, I tossed off my clothes and went snorkeling in my bikini without a care in the world. After swimming around the reefs and getting my fill of all the pretty fish, I sunned my tummy in the lounge chairs on the beach. The dear husband came to retrieve me when he judged that I had been out long enough to possibly burn myself (I ran out without sunblock), and we went back inside to cool off until lunch. After lunch, I went out again. It's amazing how I never seem to get tired of staring at the little fish. After dinner, we both went out to the booze cruise, lounging on the deck with its cushions and staring off into the night. I nursed my gin & tonic while my husband had more beers, and we shot the shit with the dive staff.
This, the last full day, was probably the best day of our entire vacation.
2014-10-28
Honestly Maldives, Part 3: Fishing Adventures
TL; DR
Venue: Village Holidays Maldives
Cost: ~$700 per day, pay in advance via wire transfer
Benefits: Fishing whenever you want, room and full board, optional snorkeling
Recommendation: Try it out, it's pretty cool.
To get to our fishing adventure with Village Holidays Maldives, first we needed to get out of MLE. Our host, Mohamed Latheef, met us at the international arrivals exit and took us to the local departures area. We got on a tiny propeller plane to Maamigili's formerly-international airport (VAM). The trip was fairly short. We flew over a bunch of islands. I gawked despite my exhaustion. They were very pretty.
VAM was a dinky little thing. I could see why they were stripped of their international status after just a year: they weren't at all equipped for such a thing. We were ushered off the plane, across the tarmac, through the tiny building, and onto a small bus. It took us down to the harbor where, we were assured, our luggage would meet us shortly.
The flight and subsequently the harbor was full of Chinese tourists. I had to stop myself from laughing at their antics -- spreading SPF 110 sunblock so thinly across their pale skin that it would surely do nothing to protect them from the tropical sun, all the while loudly proclaiming how desperately they wanted to stay pale and untanned. I scoffed under my breath, wondering what the point of coming to a tropical island was in the first place, if they wanted so badly to hide from the sun.
I learned that Chinese tourism had picked up lately, that the Maldives was a favored destination. There was even a card in every seat pocket on the plane, explaining I-don't-know-what, specifically to Chinese tourists. Noting my interest in the other Chinese tourists, Latheef explained that they've been flocking to the resorts. They catch crabs, he told me. The Maldivians don't eat them, but the Chinese catch the crabs and boil them in the coffee pots in the resort rooms. The smell lingers for weeks and is impossible to remove. The resorts tried to put up signs and notices forbidding it, but had no success. Now, Latheef said, the resorts just remove the coffee pots whenever a Chinese tourist stays with them. I laughed, sighed, and cringed with embarrassment for my former countrymen.
Finally, our luggage arrived. Latheef called a taxi for us, and we and our luggage rumbled off to find some lunch. At the restaurant the taxi brought us to, there was only one small cabinet of fried things sitting more or less out in the open, a handful of flies leisurely buzzing on the foodstuffs. We fled back to the harbor -- it took a while for the taxi to return -- and loaded ourselves onto the fishing boat.
The crew made us tuna sandwiches with canned tuna, sliced onions, and white bread with the crusts cut off. They cut the sandwiches into perfect triangles, and stacked them onto plates. It was adorable. We devoured the lot. The wind stole a few pieces of bread and a plate with one sandwich left on it, but for the most part, the food went into our tummies. We also had hot, sweetened black tea to wash the sandwiches down. It was pretty tasty.
The boat ride out of Maamigili started off with fixing the engine. Something about a filter needing to be replaced, sea water getting into something it shouldn't because the chop was so bad. The crew busied themselves hopping down into the hole in the boat where the engine sat, plying it with tools and things. I tried not to get sea sick.
At last, we got going. The chop was pretty awful for me. Facing backwards, I quickly became rather ill -- not that I had been particularly hale nor healthy from our long travel beforehand! The ride seemed interminable. I oozed closer and closer to the bottom of the boat, eventually wedging myself onto the floor -- deck? -- between a chair and a ladder. The crew took pity and fixed me up an impromptu bed. I managed only a grunt of thanks before I collapsed upon it and blissfully let go of consciousness.
"Miss, miss, the action has started!" I startled awake to find the crew and our host buzzing with excitement. Rolling to my feet, I scrabbled for my camera, still half asleep. My husband has had a hit, and was now bedecked in a fighting belt, wrestling with some monster fish in the ocean. I started taking pictures, like ya do.
It was a giant trevally, a very popular sport fish. After a quick photo, we let it go so that some other fisherman could catch it. I learned that my husband had started casting, jigging and popping. I was still feeling sickly, so I just hung out, trying to hydrate and not immediately vomit it all back up.
Eventually, we got to Nilandhoo, the Faafu atoll capital. We were introduced to Mama, Latheef's mother-in-law, and handed a pair of freshly opened young coconuts. Latheef explained the origin of his fishing expedition business -- he's actually a mechanical engineer, and fishing was a hobby that grew organically into a successful business -- handed us our room keys, and told us to get cleaned up so that he could show us around.
We just barely missed the sunset, but it was still lovely out. Latheef walked us around the island, pointing out the mosque, the hospital, the atoll capital administrative building, the school.... We scared up hordes of crabs. In the dim twilight after sunset, they looked like giant skittering spiders, their feet hissing against the sand from the speed and numbers of their passing. I admit, the experience was pretty creepy.
Latheef had to get back to his engineering job, and told us our host would be one of the crew, Ali. Ali didn't have a lot of English, so communication was a bit tricky, but we were able to manage.
The second day, I begged off due to severe dehydration with a host of secondary issues, stayed in bed chugging water infused with hydration salts, and felt much more human by late afternoon. Once I recovered, my husband and I went out fishing in the early morning for sport fish, came back for lunch, rested a bit, and went out again in the late afternoon to catch dinner.
One of the days, we had to cut our fishing short due to some engine problems. That afternoon, Ali took us out snorkeling instead. Being that we were on a local island, I had to snorkel fully clothed (t-shirt, shorts), but it was still a pretty fun time. In the evening, we learned that the crew suspected a bad tank of gas, and had to ditch and refuel the entire tank. Yikes.
One of the evening fishing trips, the crew did some handline fishing while my husband and I fished off the bottom. They caught an enormous grouper, and everyone stopped to take photos with the fish. On the way back, the captain and one of the crew cleaned and filleted it as well as the other fish we caught.
The fishing was reasonable but not thrilling. On the last 2 days, we kind of got skunked, and didn't catch anything in the mornings, and nothing exciting in the evenings. I caught a good number of smaller eating fish, but nothing as cool as my 3-ft northern pike in the Boundary Waters.
The food that Mama made us was really tasty. There was a thin, bright yellow curry with fish and potatoes that was delicious. I also really enjoyed the thicker fish curry we had with breakfast sometimes. It went really well in the chapati. The fish had a wonderfully toothsome skin, which gave it an amazing texture. The typical Maldivian breakfast seems to consist of chapati stuffed with mashuni, which is a Maldivian tuna salad comprising canned tuna, sliced onions, grated coconut, and lemon or lime juice. There may be other ingredients but I don't know for sure. For lunches and dinners, we had a variety of dishes, including fried rice with fish, fried noodles (looked suspiciously like rehydrated ramen) with fish, grilled fish, and once or twice, chicken.
Our room at the guest house was very spacious. The bed was enormous, but quite firm. My back was pretty sore, but other than that, it was fine. The bathroom is a large, tiled room with at least one drain in a corner, and the entire room is basically the shower. The toilet was weird -- the seat was thinner than the width of the bowl, I had to kind of prop myself up so that my thighs didn't end up resting on the lip of the toilet bowl directly.
Overall, the fishing adventure was a lot of fun. At least one of us went out fishing everyday, and even when we didn't catch anything, being out on the ocean was beautiful and enjoyable, despite the glaring sun and my sea sickness.
Venue: Village Holidays Maldives
Cost: ~$700 per day, pay in advance via wire transfer
Benefits: Fishing whenever you want, room and full board, optional snorkeling
Recommendation: Try it out, it's pretty cool.
To get to our fishing adventure with Village Holidays Maldives, first we needed to get out of MLE. Our host, Mohamed Latheef, met us at the international arrivals exit and took us to the local departures area. We got on a tiny propeller plane to Maamigili's formerly-international airport (VAM). The trip was fairly short. We flew over a bunch of islands. I gawked despite my exhaustion. They were very pretty.
VAM was a dinky little thing. I could see why they were stripped of their international status after just a year: they weren't at all equipped for such a thing. We were ushered off the plane, across the tarmac, through the tiny building, and onto a small bus. It took us down to the harbor where, we were assured, our luggage would meet us shortly.
The flight and subsequently the harbor was full of Chinese tourists. I had to stop myself from laughing at their antics -- spreading SPF 110 sunblock so thinly across their pale skin that it would surely do nothing to protect them from the tropical sun, all the while loudly proclaiming how desperately they wanted to stay pale and untanned. I scoffed under my breath, wondering what the point of coming to a tropical island was in the first place, if they wanted so badly to hide from the sun.
I learned that Chinese tourism had picked up lately, that the Maldives was a favored destination. There was even a card in every seat pocket on the plane, explaining I-don't-know-what, specifically to Chinese tourists. Noting my interest in the other Chinese tourists, Latheef explained that they've been flocking to the resorts. They catch crabs, he told me. The Maldivians don't eat them, but the Chinese catch the crabs and boil them in the coffee pots in the resort rooms. The smell lingers for weeks and is impossible to remove. The resorts tried to put up signs and notices forbidding it, but had no success. Now, Latheef said, the resorts just remove the coffee pots whenever a Chinese tourist stays with them. I laughed, sighed, and cringed with embarrassment for my former countrymen.
Finally, our luggage arrived. Latheef called a taxi for us, and we and our luggage rumbled off to find some lunch. At the restaurant the taxi brought us to, there was only one small cabinet of fried things sitting more or less out in the open, a handful of flies leisurely buzzing on the foodstuffs. We fled back to the harbor -- it took a while for the taxi to return -- and loaded ourselves onto the fishing boat.
The crew made us tuna sandwiches with canned tuna, sliced onions, and white bread with the crusts cut off. They cut the sandwiches into perfect triangles, and stacked them onto plates. It was adorable. We devoured the lot. The wind stole a few pieces of bread and a plate with one sandwich left on it, but for the most part, the food went into our tummies. We also had hot, sweetened black tea to wash the sandwiches down. It was pretty tasty.
The boat ride out of Maamigili started off with fixing the engine. Something about a filter needing to be replaced, sea water getting into something it shouldn't because the chop was so bad. The crew busied themselves hopping down into the hole in the boat where the engine sat, plying it with tools and things. I tried not to get sea sick.
At last, we got going. The chop was pretty awful for me. Facing backwards, I quickly became rather ill -- not that I had been particularly hale nor healthy from our long travel beforehand! The ride seemed interminable. I oozed closer and closer to the bottom of the boat, eventually wedging myself onto the floor -- deck? -- between a chair and a ladder. The crew took pity and fixed me up an impromptu bed. I managed only a grunt of thanks before I collapsed upon it and blissfully let go of consciousness.
"Miss, miss, the action has started!" I startled awake to find the crew and our host buzzing with excitement. Rolling to my feet, I scrabbled for my camera, still half asleep. My husband has had a hit, and was now bedecked in a fighting belt, wrestling with some monster fish in the ocean. I started taking pictures, like ya do.
It was a giant trevally, a very popular sport fish. After a quick photo, we let it go so that some other fisherman could catch it. I learned that my husband had started casting, jigging and popping. I was still feeling sickly, so I just hung out, trying to hydrate and not immediately vomit it all back up.
Eventually, we got to Nilandhoo, the Faafu atoll capital. We were introduced to Mama, Latheef's mother-in-law, and handed a pair of freshly opened young coconuts. Latheef explained the origin of his fishing expedition business -- he's actually a mechanical engineer, and fishing was a hobby that grew organically into a successful business -- handed us our room keys, and told us to get cleaned up so that he could show us around.
We just barely missed the sunset, but it was still lovely out. Latheef walked us around the island, pointing out the mosque, the hospital, the atoll capital administrative building, the school.... We scared up hordes of crabs. In the dim twilight after sunset, they looked like giant skittering spiders, their feet hissing against the sand from the speed and numbers of their passing. I admit, the experience was pretty creepy.
Latheef had to get back to his engineering job, and told us our host would be one of the crew, Ali. Ali didn't have a lot of English, so communication was a bit tricky, but we were able to manage.
The second day, I begged off due to severe dehydration with a host of secondary issues, stayed in bed chugging water infused with hydration salts, and felt much more human by late afternoon. Once I recovered, my husband and I went out fishing in the early morning for sport fish, came back for lunch, rested a bit, and went out again in the late afternoon to catch dinner.
One of the days, we had to cut our fishing short due to some engine problems. That afternoon, Ali took us out snorkeling instead. Being that we were on a local island, I had to snorkel fully clothed (t-shirt, shorts), but it was still a pretty fun time. In the evening, we learned that the crew suspected a bad tank of gas, and had to ditch and refuel the entire tank. Yikes.
One of the evening fishing trips, the crew did some handline fishing while my husband and I fished off the bottom. They caught an enormous grouper, and everyone stopped to take photos with the fish. On the way back, the captain and one of the crew cleaned and filleted it as well as the other fish we caught.
The fishing was reasonable but not thrilling. On the last 2 days, we kind of got skunked, and didn't catch anything in the mornings, and nothing exciting in the evenings. I caught a good number of smaller eating fish, but nothing as cool as my 3-ft northern pike in the Boundary Waters.
The food that Mama made us was really tasty. There was a thin, bright yellow curry with fish and potatoes that was delicious. I also really enjoyed the thicker fish curry we had with breakfast sometimes. It went really well in the chapati. The fish had a wonderfully toothsome skin, which gave it an amazing texture. The typical Maldivian breakfast seems to consist of chapati stuffed with mashuni, which is a Maldivian tuna salad comprising canned tuna, sliced onions, grated coconut, and lemon or lime juice. There may be other ingredients but I don't know for sure. For lunches and dinners, we had a variety of dishes, including fried rice with fish, fried noodles (looked suspiciously like rehydrated ramen) with fish, grilled fish, and once or twice, chicken.
Our room at the guest house was very spacious. The bed was enormous, but quite firm. My back was pretty sore, but other than that, it was fine. The bathroom is a large, tiled room with at least one drain in a corner, and the entire room is basically the shower. The toilet was weird -- the seat was thinner than the width of the bowl, I had to kind of prop myself up so that my thighs didn't end up resting on the lip of the toilet bowl directly.
Overall, the fishing adventure was a lot of fun. At least one of us went out fishing everyday, and even when we didn't catch anything, being out on the ocean was beautiful and enjoyable, despite the glaring sun and my sea sickness.
2014-10-27
Honestly Maldives, Part 2: Getting There
I won a pair of round-trip tickets on Qatar Airways at a silent auction benefiting Citizen Schools. (This item also included 2 nights stay at a 5-star hotel in Chennai, but that's not really relevant to this trip.) The details said that this was redeemable for any destination Qatar Airways flew, excepting Australia and a few other fine details. The origin was limited to a small handful of US airports, including JFK and ORD, but excluding BOS. This cost $1200.
My husband worked with a Qatar Airways rep to redeem this certificate for actual plane tickets to the Maldives. The process itself was simple enough: a few emails were exchanged, and boom, done. Unfortunately, the certificate only covered the fares for the flights, not the taxes. It was here that I finally understood why my colleagues despise the YQ/YR surcharge. For 2 travelers, the taxes and fees added up to another $1000.
Notice, now, that we have to somehow get from BOS to JFK. Thanks to Google Flights, we were able to find some reasonably timed flights on Delta Airlines that didn't involve sitting around in the airport twiddling our thumbs for too long. We waited a bit too long to book this part of our travel, so we were out yet another $1000.
For those of you following along at home, our round-trip from BOS to MLE totaled roughly $3200.
Delta's flight from BOS to JFK was straightforward enough. The $25 fee for the first piece of checked luggage was annoying, but that's the way the airline industry has gone, so meh. Getting from the domestic terminal to the international terminal at JFK was pretty straightforward too. We had a bit of a wait to board the plane for our next leg, but with Kindles, it passed reasonably quickly.
JFK to DOH (Doha International Airport, Doha, Qatar) was a rather long flight. The listed duration on our tickets is 12 hours and 20 minutes. I successfully slept for 9 of the 12 hours, so it didn't seem too long. I'm pretty sure I missed a few meals or snacks, but that didn't particularly bother me.
With a roughly 6 hour layover in DOH, my husband and I grabbed a meal at a decent Italian restaurant, wandered around the terminal, took a bunch of photos of the Bear Lamp and the animatronic dinosaur, and drank a huge quantity of Moroccan mint tea at a tea and sweets cafe. I regretted the mint tea on the flight afterward, where the caffeine disrupted my sleep, and the liquid surged sickeningly in my stomach before demanding, urgently and repeatedly, to be purged.
For our final leg, we were pleasantly surprised to have been upgraded to business class. It was pretty damn swank. We had enormous couch-like seats that reclined to more or less horizontal. The dinner menu looked delicious, and was complimentary, so we stuffed ourselves some more. There was also complimentary wine. I found myself growing more and more uncomfortable as the flight progressed. Near as I could figure, the slight angle of the seats off the direction of travel (they were pointed a bit away from the center aisle) made me extremely motion sick. Those 5 hours were some of the most luxurious yet sickening flying hours I'd ever spent.
Finally, we arrived at MLE, Male's Ibrahim Nasir International Airport. I was ready to collapse or vomit. It was shockingly hot and humid after the frigid air conditioning of basically everything leading up to arrival. We weren't given a moment to rest, however, as we were almost immediately greeted by our fishing guide.
Getting to MLE took a total of 28 hours, including the taxi from our house.
Stay tuned for more adventures!
My husband worked with a Qatar Airways rep to redeem this certificate for actual plane tickets to the Maldives. The process itself was simple enough: a few emails were exchanged, and boom, done. Unfortunately, the certificate only covered the fares for the flights, not the taxes. It was here that I finally understood why my colleagues despise the YQ/YR surcharge. For 2 travelers, the taxes and fees added up to another $1000.
Notice, now, that we have to somehow get from BOS to JFK. Thanks to Google Flights, we were able to find some reasonably timed flights on Delta Airlines that didn't involve sitting around in the airport twiddling our thumbs for too long. We waited a bit too long to book this part of our travel, so we were out yet another $1000.
For those of you following along at home, our round-trip from BOS to MLE totaled roughly $3200.
Delta's flight from BOS to JFK was straightforward enough. The $25 fee for the first piece of checked luggage was annoying, but that's the way the airline industry has gone, so meh. Getting from the domestic terminal to the international terminal at JFK was pretty straightforward too. We had a bit of a wait to board the plane for our next leg, but with Kindles, it passed reasonably quickly.
JFK to DOH (Doha International Airport, Doha, Qatar) was a rather long flight. The listed duration on our tickets is 12 hours and 20 minutes. I successfully slept for 9 of the 12 hours, so it didn't seem too long. I'm pretty sure I missed a few meals or snacks, but that didn't particularly bother me.
With a roughly 6 hour layover in DOH, my husband and I grabbed a meal at a decent Italian restaurant, wandered around the terminal, took a bunch of photos of the Bear Lamp and the animatronic dinosaur, and drank a huge quantity of Moroccan mint tea at a tea and sweets cafe. I regretted the mint tea on the flight afterward, where the caffeine disrupted my sleep, and the liquid surged sickeningly in my stomach before demanding, urgently and repeatedly, to be purged.
For our final leg, we were pleasantly surprised to have been upgraded to business class. It was pretty damn swank. We had enormous couch-like seats that reclined to more or less horizontal. The dinner menu looked delicious, and was complimentary, so we stuffed ourselves some more. There was also complimentary wine. I found myself growing more and more uncomfortable as the flight progressed. Near as I could figure, the slight angle of the seats off the direction of travel (they were pointed a bit away from the center aisle) made me extremely motion sick. Those 5 hours were some of the most luxurious yet sickening flying hours I'd ever spent.
Finally, we arrived at MLE, Male's Ibrahim Nasir International Airport. I was ready to collapse or vomit. It was shockingly hot and humid after the frigid air conditioning of basically everything leading up to arrival. We weren't given a moment to rest, however, as we were almost immediately greeted by our fishing guide.
Getting to MLE took a total of 28 hours, including the taxi from our house.
Stay tuned for more adventures!
Honestly Maldives, Part 1: Summary
My husband and I decided to visit the Maldives. Looking on Google Image Search, I found photos of beautiful beaches, small islands, clear waters, and adorable little cabanas built right on top of the water. I was excited.
Getting there was an endeavor. We flew Qatar Airlines, with a several-hour-long layover in Doha, Qatar. We spent the time pleasantly, dining and sipping tea. To our surprise, we were upgraded to business class on our final leg to Male's Ibrahim Nasir International Airport (MLE). It was pretty posh.
Arriving, we were greeted by Mr. Latheef, with whom we reserved a 4-day all-inclusive fishing adventure. He led us to the domestic "terminal" at MLE, and flew with us to Maamigili's tiny airport. Then, we took a boat to Nilandhoo, on the Faafu atoll.
The fishing was tough for me. My husband enjoyed himself, but I was pretty seasick. It was hot and sunny, and there wasn't a whole lot to do, especially in the mornings when we were mostly trolling. In the afternoons, we fished for our meals, and that was more fun. The bottom-fishing was also much easier than casting, which was very tiring.
After our fishing adventure, we went to Mathiveri on the Ari atoll. We stayed for over a week at the Mathiveri Inn. It's located immediately next to the mosque, so we were blasted with prayers via loudspeakers 5 times a day, every day. The food was not as good as at the guesthouse on Nilandhoo, and the service was laughable at best. Toward the end of our trip, we got sick of it, and moved over to Casa Mia, a resort located on the same island.
The snorkeling was lovely. There are reefs basically everywhere, and we were able to see many colorful fish, and beautiful, intricate corals. One of the days, we went on a manta expedition. The first place we went to, there was a single manta, and about 20 visitors in their bright orange life jackets and snorkels, chasing the poor manta. We moved on to a second location, where we found another single manta in the distance, but didn't get a chance to get close. We eventually gave up looking for manta, and just went to a nearby reef for snorkeling. It was gorgeous. My husband saw a sea turtle (alas, I did not).
We took a beginner scuba diving class at Casa Mia. The dive instructor took us out into the shallows by the harbor, teaching us some basics like how to recover the breathing thing, and how to clear our masks. Then we went deeper into the harbor and dove to about 10 meters. I was terrified, and spent a good 10 minutes worrying about my equipment and being completely overwhelmed by nerves. After a while, I managed to loosen up and actually look around. Turns out, it's quite beautiful down there. I did clutch my instructor's arm the entirety of the dive, but I succeeded in not flipping the hell out, and even had a reasonably good time. My husband took to it like a fish to water, that brat.
On the way back to Male, we took a sea plane. It was pretty amazing. The entire travel back from Mathiveri to home took about 39 hours, which was a different kind of amazing. Stumbling home, we crashed at 8:30pm and slept for 11 hours. Melatonin is wonderful.
Getting there was an endeavor. We flew Qatar Airlines, with a several-hour-long layover in Doha, Qatar. We spent the time pleasantly, dining and sipping tea. To our surprise, we were upgraded to business class on our final leg to Male's Ibrahim Nasir International Airport (MLE). It was pretty posh.
Arriving, we were greeted by Mr. Latheef, with whom we reserved a 4-day all-inclusive fishing adventure. He led us to the domestic "terminal" at MLE, and flew with us to Maamigili's tiny airport. Then, we took a boat to Nilandhoo, on the Faafu atoll.
The fishing was tough for me. My husband enjoyed himself, but I was pretty seasick. It was hot and sunny, and there wasn't a whole lot to do, especially in the mornings when we were mostly trolling. In the afternoons, we fished for our meals, and that was more fun. The bottom-fishing was also much easier than casting, which was very tiring.
After our fishing adventure, we went to Mathiveri on the Ari atoll. We stayed for over a week at the Mathiveri Inn. It's located immediately next to the mosque, so we were blasted with prayers via loudspeakers 5 times a day, every day. The food was not as good as at the guesthouse on Nilandhoo, and the service was laughable at best. Toward the end of our trip, we got sick of it, and moved over to Casa Mia, a resort located on the same island.
The snorkeling was lovely. There are reefs basically everywhere, and we were able to see many colorful fish, and beautiful, intricate corals. One of the days, we went on a manta expedition. The first place we went to, there was a single manta, and about 20 visitors in their bright orange life jackets and snorkels, chasing the poor manta. We moved on to a second location, where we found another single manta in the distance, but didn't get a chance to get close. We eventually gave up looking for manta, and just went to a nearby reef for snorkeling. It was gorgeous. My husband saw a sea turtle (alas, I did not).
We took a beginner scuba diving class at Casa Mia. The dive instructor took us out into the shallows by the harbor, teaching us some basics like how to recover the breathing thing, and how to clear our masks. Then we went deeper into the harbor and dove to about 10 meters. I was terrified, and spent a good 10 minutes worrying about my equipment and being completely overwhelmed by nerves. After a while, I managed to loosen up and actually look around. Turns out, it's quite beautiful down there. I did clutch my instructor's arm the entirety of the dive, but I succeeded in not flipping the hell out, and even had a reasonably good time. My husband took to it like a fish to water, that brat.
On the way back to Male, we took a sea plane. It was pretty amazing. The entire travel back from Mathiveri to home took about 39 hours, which was a different kind of amazing. Stumbling home, we crashed at 8:30pm and slept for 11 hours. Melatonin is wonderful.
2012-06-18
Cat-astrophe
My cat got sick. At first, he was reluctant to eat. A week later, it progressed to vomiting. I caught him in the act after cleaning up two previous vomit piles, and later that day that he was very reluctant to socialize. He is a snuggler and a food vacuum, so this was very worrisome for me. A friend convinced me to take him to an animal ER immediately, so off we went.
After taking his vitals, drawing a blood sample, and doing an x-ray, I decided to take him home. Poor Tig was freaking out a little, shedding all over the exam room and jumping every time someone touched him unexpectedly. He was more energetic than I'd seen him in days though, so it seemed like he might have been improving. I had instructions to withhold food and water overnight, and isolate him from the other cats.
In the morning, I checked to make sure he hadn't vomited overnight. Since he had been okay, I followed the instructions to feed him a little bit of bland food. He licked the serving spoon, and might have eaten some from the bowl, but in the time it took me to cap the remainder in the can and come back, he had already started to vomit again. So I took him back to the ER.
The out-patient care already failed once, so I let them board him for up to two days. They monitored him, trying to feed him sporadically, but he refused all food. He had no bowel movements, either the night before or the night at the hospital, but since he hadn't eaten anything in at least that long, the doctor was not too concerned. He was peeing normally, since he had been hooked up to IV fluids. This morning, they did an ultrasound of his abdominal region, verifying that there were no obstructions in his gut. The blood work from Saturday also came back fine, ruling out serious kidney and liver diseases.
He's being treated for inflammation of the pancreas currently, as the remaining most likely candidate that's making him sick like this. There's another blood work out to verify if it is pancreatitis. There's not much they can do for him if it really is pancreatitis, only supporting him through the illness with medication to stimulate his appetite, relieve nausea, and promote healthy bowel movements.
I hope my poor kitty gets better and can come home soon.
2012-03-06
Park Place
We decided on a name for our house. It is still in renovation. We're still crammed into four little rooms on the first floor, but we have storage now in the barn and in the basement, so we've gotten ourselves settled a little more comfortably. I'm looking forward to the end of spring, when we'll hopefully have the second floor finished. Fingers crossed. :)
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