It was the monsoon season. It would rain in the evening and create puddles all over the local island of Maafushi.
I’ve seen a different version from Stingray last year; it was “whiter”. This one looked like a finer version of rice sprinkled with seeds. It would have been spicy, but they adjusted it for the untrained palate.
The waves broke a hundred meters from the shoreline. Odd. Why would it refuse to move closer to the shore? Kelps were all across the seemingly stagnant sea. Southward, a ship was docked on a sandbar, and a couple of Caucasians were walking towards the ocean with their diving gear. Otherwise, the place was eerily deserted, a resounding contradiction from the opposite side of the island where the jetty is.
|My buffet haul in Kaani Beach Hotel. Mashuni (left) is served.|
|The eastern shore of Maafushi is eerily deserted.|
|Independent divers out for an early adventure.|
|The only establishment I found in that portion of the eastern shore.|
|Puddles from last night's thunderstorm.|
|A sprinkling of colors.|
|Election statistics are written on walls.|
|Washing jar in front of Kaani Beach Hotel.|