Take Me Back to Kanuhura
Let’s set the stage: You’re flying over a lagoon with countless shades of cerulean and turquoise, dotted only by a few small islands. The islands are so small that from this height, they almost don’t even look like islands– just ribbons of electric blue paint on the dark blue canvas of the Indian ocean. The earplugs in your ears muffle but don’t drown out the rhythmic thrum of the propeller plane outside your window. You’re seated so close to the pilots you can practically smell their aftershave. For the first time in your life, you actually don’t ever want this plane ride to end. But, as with all good things, it’s over quickly, a mere 30 minutes after departing Male’s seaplane airport. The barefoot pilots kick their sandals back on as they begin fiddling with the controls and preparing for landing. The color of the water changes dramatically as you get closer and closer to the surface. Finally, with a controlled skid of a landin...