Maldives coracora

Coracora Island Notes: Searching for a Transparent Dream in the Folds of the Indian Ocean As the morning light breaks, the propellers of the seaplane break up the endless clouds over the Maldives. The blue that gradually spreads outside the cabin is like a palette overturned by the Creator - indigo, cobalt blue, turquoise green, mint, and finally condenses into a circle of nearly transparent "jelly sea" around Coracora Island. “Welcome to the capillaries of heaven,” the captain announced in heavily accented English. Day 1: When your toes sink into the floury sand The moment you step onto the pier barefoot, fine sand gently flows out from between your toes. The sand here is so white it's almost saintly, as if someone had crushed pearls and scattered them on the tide line. The housekeeper Ali handed me a chilled coconut. When the coconut fragrance mixed with the sea breeze exploded in my nose, I suddenly felt that the souls in the city that were tamed by 996 were peeling off piece by piece into the salty and humid air. The water house is suspended above the lagoon, and the fish under the glass floor are like flowing diamonds. A rainstorm suddenly came in the afternoon. I lay on the net bed and watched the raindrops hit the sea surface. In the distance, the dark clouds and waves were torn into Van Gogh's brushstrokes. The waiter brought us hand-brewed Maldivian black tea, with the aroma of Ceylon cinnamon and cloves, and I could actually smell the direction of the monsoon earlier than the weather forecast. Day 2: Magical moments dancing with manta rays Snorkeling guide Hassan has eyes that can see through the water. "We have guests at East Lagoon today." He pointed mysteriously at the canoe. The wheezing sound in the snorkel suddenly stopped as the huge shadow of a manta ray swam past me - these ghost dancers of the ocean, with a three-meter wingspan, are as light as a sonnet. Among the corals, clownfish dive in and out of purple anemones, and the hawksbill turtle’s slow paddling posture looks very much like the old German gentleman in the water house next door who always basks in the sun in the afternoon. The sunset cruise in the evening is like a burning ritual. Amid the crisp sound of champagne glasses clinking, the setting sun burned the clouds into golden-red ashes, a group of dolphins suddenly jumped out of the rosy waves, the Japanese couple on the boat hugged each other tightly, and the photographer quietly pressed the shutter. Day 3: Atoll on the tip of the tongue Chef Rashid served steaming lobster in coconut curry, with a banana leaf roasted with palm sugar hidden at the bottom. “Our secret formula,” he winked, “is like a coral reef protecting a school of fish.” On a beach dinner night, the dining table was immersed in shallow water, and the reflection of the candlelight was intertwined with the stars. The tuna tartare was mixed with the spiciness of lime leaves. Suddenly, a firefly squid swam past my ankles. The sommelier chuckled, “This is an aperitif from the sea.” Last 24 hours: Collect scattered blue Before leaving, I paddled alone in a transparent kayak. The lagoon stitched the sky and the ocean into an infinitely stretching blue silk. Fifteen meters underwater, the wreckage of the ship has become a coral castle, and schools of bluefin trevally are flowing like liquid metal. In the SPA pavilion, warm coconut oil wrapped in sea salt slides across the back, and the fragrance of essential oils can be heard as the sound of the tide echoes in the shells of the head. I boarded the return flight in the twilight, and the Coracora Island outside the window shrank into an emerald ring. Looking through the pictures I accidentally took with my camera: I ran barefoot across the pier late at night, and the star trails and Noctiluca scintillans under long exposure actually created the appearance of the Milky Way falling into the ocean. postscript: In this microcosm with an average area of ​​0.8 square kilometers per person, time is remeasured in tides. When the hustle and bustle of Male Airport once again flooded my eardrums, I was surprised to find that there were still a few grains of Coracora sand on the corners of my clothes - they were tiny coordinates from heaven, reminding me that a certain sea once hid my reflection in its eternal blue. (Tips: You only need to sign the bill for all consumption on the island, and settle the bill when you leave the island; it is recommended to bring high-power sunscreen and waterproof cameras; there are traditional Maldivian song and dance performances every Wednesday evening, don’t miss the stunning view of the dancers stepping on the sunset barefoot.)