Dear Asma,
When I landed in Malé from Dubai, the Cheval Blanc experience had already begun.
I was escorted from the airport to the Cheval Blanc Randheli lounge, where everything felt considered. There was something wonderfully reassuring about being met, guided and looked after from the moment I arrived. No figuring out where to go, no waiting around, no sense of being one of many travellers passing through an airport. I was already a guest.
And then there was the lounge itself. Special, tailored and unmistakably fashionable. It had that particular Cheval Blanc sensibility where hospitality and style seem to speak the same language. Nothing felt overdone, yet everything felt intentional. Even before reaching the Maison, I already had a sense of what was waiting for me.
From there, I boarded my private seaplane to Randheli. As the seaplane was approaching Cheval Blanc Randheli, I wondered about a whole new world I still hadn’t experienced.
I had seen many shades of blue, but never quite like these. I had seen islands in every imaginable shape, but never quite like these. I had received beautiful hospitality across the globe, but this had a twist to it I still cannot quite explain. There was Lionel, the GM Rahim, the Sales and Marketing Manager. And Anna, my Majordome, waiting for me with open arms, and as I felt – open hearts.
Randheli sits in the Noonu Atoll, about 40 minutes by seaplane from Malé, spread across six islands with 46 villas. Even before arriving, there is something wonderfully cinematic about reaching a place that can only be reached by air, with the turquoise of the Indian Ocean below you and nothing else in sight. Villa No. 10 is something I will remember forever.
The Maison was designed by Jean Michel Gathy, and you can recognise his signature immediately. The architecture has a wonderful sense of scale, with natural island materials, generous volumes and those beautiful transitions between indoors and out. There is something contemporary about it, but it never feels disconnected from where you are.
The villa is spacious. So spacious, and so high, that I felt a seaplane could fly straight through it while I lay on a bed that resembled a cloud, watching the fantastical scene outside. There are amenities everywhere. All sorts of drinks, cookies and savoury bites I am yet to learn to recognise. Scented oils, lip balms, slippers and bathrobes, beach bags and sun umbrellas, snorkelling equipment. You name it, it is there.
And then there is the pool. Glorious. Right at the edge of the ocean.
I planned to do many things, and I did many things, but I always found myself wanting to return to the pool and read my signed copy of Arundhati Roy’s “Mother Mary Comes to Me”, which Lila bought for me simply because she knew I loved Arundhati. She had seen the book in a bookstore in London and thought of me. I kept thinking about that. It is the small things that matter. The things people remember about you when you are not there. The things they see in a bookstore, or hear in a song, or notice on a shelf, and somehow connect back to you. Perhaps that is why Arundhati’s “The God of Small Things” has stayed with me for so long.
On my first afternoon, the Maison discovery took us around some of Randheli’s most beautiful settings. It was the sort of introduction that made you realise how much there is to discover here, even before you have actually started doing anything. Although, I must admit, I was already thinking about my pool.
I have never seen a bigger in-villa dining menu. Think of whatever cuisine you want, whatever you might be craving, and Anna will somehow have it with you soon after you order. She became a friend. The kind who shows up whenever needed. Conveniently there, just friendly enough. Never too much. You almost miss her when she is not around.
There is a scent to Randheli that follows you from one space to another. “Island Chic” was created by François Demachy, and its notes of fragrant tea, cardamom, rose and driftwood somehow make complete sense here. It smells like the idea of an island before you even begin to describe it.
Dinner at Deelani was a celebration. The restaurant sits above the water, and its cuisine draws from the Italian Riviera and the flavours of the sea. It was exactly the kind of place where I could have stayed for hours. We were served by lovely Artisans, as Cheval Blanc calls its colleagues. Some had been part of the Maison for years. That evening, they were as passionate about their work as if they were still on their first day. I loved that. I respected that. Baby sharks were swimming beneath us. To the right, we could see a coral nursery. In the distance, waves were crashing into the darkness.
I could not ask for more in life. But why? What would be the point?
The following day, we sailed by dhoni to Cheval Blanc Spa Island. The journey itself felt like part of the treatment. Water around us, sky above us, and then this entire island dedicated to Guerlain. I opted for 90 minutes instead of 60. Oh my, did it make a difference. I feel as though I could still see the radiance of my skin, produced by skilled therapist hands, Guerlain essentials, ocean water and bright sun.
Before that, there was the house reef. Snorkelling equipment had been arranged through Anna, and suddenly the world I had been admiring from above was directly underneath me. The Maldives has a way of making you realise how little you actually know about blue.
Then came the jet ski. In the Maldives, one does watersports. God knows I am not particularly good at them, but I could drive a jet ski. How hard could it be? Not hard at all. It was fun. Seeing the resort and its islands from the ocean, rather than from the villa or the beach, changed everything. For a little while, I was looking at Randheli from the outside. And yet I was still thinking about my pool. My pool at Villa No. 10 was always on my mind.
And then there was sport. I have newly become addicted to spinning classes, and I hope this addiction lasts longer than the one I once had with padel. I had a strength training session followed by a spin class with Roman, during which I found myself asking: Who am I, and what am I turning into? Previously, I would simply pass by the gym at a resort and look the other way. And look at me now. I also cycled all over the island, discovering Randheli on two wheels, moving from one corner to another and seeing the place at my own pace. As I was posting about it on Instagram, my friend Biljana texted me to say that Cheval Blanc Randheli is one of her favourite places in the world. She and her husband, Janko Tipsarević, operate the tennis courts at Cheval Blanc Randheli. I was so proud of them. Somehow, discovering this island made me think about how people leave little pieces of themselves in places all over the world.
That evening, we had sunset cocktails at “The White Bar”. The next dinner was at The White, Randheli’s main restaurant, where the food moves from breakfast through lunch and dinner, with a brasserie-style approach and views of the ocean and tropical garden.
But it was “Diptyque” that unexpectedly stayed with me most. Unexpectedly, simply because I almost always choose Italian over any other cuisine. But this time, Japanese and East Asian flavours felt exactly right. The restaurant itself plays with duality, with open kitchens creating a kind of culinary theatre around you. I will never forget the foie gras nigiri. Well, we are at Cheval Blanc, after all. I never thought I would like it as much as I did. I went from sceptical to in love very quickly.
They celebrate food here. When I spoke to Lionel, the General Manager, he emphasised the importance of food on the island, and I really felt it in every gastronomic interaction with the Maison. There are five restaurants and three bars, each with its own personality, from the Italian and Mediterranean flavours of Deelani to the Japanese and East Asian cuisine at Diptyque and the relaxed brasserie cooking at The White.
Gastronomy here brings people together. Food becomes a bridge between the people sitting at the same table, but also between tables in general.
On my last night, I saw Venus. Again, I was stubbornly insisting that I was looking at a star. But no. The proximity to the equator, once again just as in my “Seychellois diaries”, made the sky feel wider, flatter and more open, as if someone had removed a layer between us and everything above.
It was September 3rd. I was looking at Venus. She was bright and gorgeous. I smiled, and I could swear I saw her wink. And suddenly I thought about how strange it is that we travel so far to discover something new, only to find ourselves returning to the things we already know we love.
A book. A scent. A person who remembers something about you. A pool at the edge of the ocean. A lover that became stranger. A song playing somewhere in your head.
“Island Blues” by Koop was singing in my mind:
“The truth is
We were much too young
Now I’m looking for you
Or anyone like you.”
Perhaps that was what I was looking for when the seaplane first descended over those shades of blue. Or perhaps, dear Asma, I had already found it. Villa No. 10 at Cheval Blanc Randheli, the one I still cannot stop thinking about.
Sentimentally yours,
Milo
