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Illustration by Nijah Smith
The pilots fly barefoot. I’d watched enough YouTube videos while planning my trip to the Maldives not to be surprised by that.
I also knew, again thanks to YouTube, that when our seaplane began its descent 45 minutes after takeoff, I would see staff members on the jetty, ready to greet us with cold towels and offers of Champagne.
After months of internet stalking I knew a lot of details about the resort I’d chosen for my holiday, right down to the contents of the mini-bar.
I knew, for example, that the bathtub of my beach villa was outside. I’d never stayed anywhere with an outdoor bathtub. I wanted to try it. I knew I’d regret not trying it.
That bathtub was the reason I booked that resort for the first two nights of my holiday.
The villa, and especially the bathroom, was as gorgeous as the internet promised. The bathtub was long and deep, the white ceramic a gleaming contrast to the dark stone flooring and grey walls. There was a sleek rainfall shower, huge double vanity and a toilet hidden behind frosted glass. The ground beyond the bathtub was carpeted with lush greenery and beyond that was a terraced wall of cascading flowers. The entire space was bigger than the villa’s bedroom.
And it was all outside.
The reality of that didn’t quite hit me until I woke up at 2 a.m. I’d taken four flights over two days to reach the island from Toronto. I had no idea what time my body thought it was. I did know I needed a bathroom.
But I paused at the door before going outside in the middle of the night.
I’d just remembered the bat.
My first day in the Maldives was holiday magic. The water was a mesmerizing shimmering palette of teals, turquoise, cerulean and more, the vivid shades popping against the deeper blues like abstract art. Pristine soft sand ringed the island. I knew it was possible to walk around the entire island in 15 minutes. I wasn’t surprised it took me considerably longer. More often than not there wasn’t another person in sight.
Eventually I returned to the villa and swam in my private pool. In late afternoon, when a storm rolled in (it was the tail end of monsoon season), I retreated to the bathtub.
Not everyone is a bath person. I am. The tropical downpour was inches away. I could reach out and touch the rain from the tub. The sound was soothing, the air incredibly fresh. The storm blew over and the sun came out. The air smelled even better.
And then I saw the bat.
It was a really big bat.
I wasn’t expecting bats. Sharks and stingrays, sure, but not bats.
I convinced myself it was a good surprise. Bats were cool, right? Besides, it was almost time for sunset cocktails. I climbed out of the tub.
I didn’t think about the bat again until 2 a.m.
The door leading to the bathroom was solid wood. I couldn’t see what was on the other side.
So I hesitated.
What if there was a bat out there? My self-protection instincts had a point. I’ve since Googled “bats” and “Maldives” and they can have wingspans of up to five feet.
Sunrise was four hours away.
One of the great things about travel is that it forces you to step outside your comfort zone. In that moment, going outside my comfort zone meant, literally, going outside.
I opened the door.
I did not come face to face with a bat.
As I washed my hands in the moonlight, the only face I saw was my own, smiling back at me in the mirror.
Opening that door was far from the biggest challenge I’d ever faced, but I still conquered it. Sometimes, especially in the middle of the night, it is good to be reminded that I can be brave.
Later, I had my first cup of tea on the beach at sunrise. I had my second cup in the bathtub, watching the sky brighten from pale to postcard blue.
A bat was hanging upside down in a tree just beyond the far wall. In daylight it was almost cute. Every so often a wing would stretch out then be sleepily retucked. Other bats flew in and out of view. We all seemed to be on the same page regarding safe social distancing.
It was a beautiful morning. Breakfast (featured prominently across the resort’s social media) was going to be awesome. And I was bathing with bats.
Would I have chosen a villa with an outdoor bathroom had I known about the bats? Maybe. Maybe not.
Am I glad I did? Absolutely.
I have videos of the bats. I could share them with the internet. But I won’t.
Deb Horvath-Dori lives in Toronto.