We’re back at it. I think I got maybe five hours of sleep? My brain’s on autopilot. The second I woke up, I went through the motions—brushed my teeth, washed my face, slapped on SPF, and met my friends at the dining room for brekkie.
I am so not a morning person, so I defaulted to the usual—scrambled eggs with veggies, chicken sausage, and hash browns. And yes, I drown everything in ketchup. No shame.
I spotted something new on the buffet today—Ghee Pangol—so I grabbed some, along with my usual suspects: fruit, yogurt, and chia seed pudding.
After breakfast, we headed to the dive center to grab our snorkeling gear. I brought my full-face mask from home—it’s a game changer. If you haven’t tried one, you’re missing out.
Out in the water, I saw turtles, schools of fish, coral reefs, white-tailed sharks, and tiny squids.
My friends above me.
Everything was perfect until a jet ski blasted past, sending waves my way. That immediate nausea hit. The last thing I wanted to do was throw up in the ocean, so I booked it back to the jetty before I was out of commission for the whole day.
Walking back to the villa, I spotted some bats. Tell me why I think they’re adorable?
We jumped back into the ocean from our villa’s deck and explored underwater some more. I would have had more footage, but my phone decided not to cooperate with me, even inside its waterproof pouch.
Ava and I ditched the buffet for lunch and headed to the dining room on the other side of the island
I got the papaya salad with prawns—so refreshing. I was already full, but because our meals came with an entrée, I went ahead and ordered more food because, well… gluten glutton.
A vegetable sandwich with fries. Took two bites and tapped out. I don’t even know why I ordered it—delirium from too much sun? Probably. Surprise, surprise, I got burnt again.
At least the view from the restaurant was gorgeous.
We strolled over to the beach club and found a shaded cabana—thank God—because all I wanted was a nap.
Just as I was about to drift off, one of the bar staff came by offering popsicles. I was probably dehydrated at this point, so I grabbed a mango one. It was ridiculously fresh and so damn good.
We squeezed in a dolphin excursion and got to see them launching out of the water, pulling off 360s like it was nothing.
By then, I was done. I just wanted to pass out in my villa bed. Ava wanted to stay, so I ordered a buggy. The driver, a guy from Sri Lanka, told me he worked on the island for 11 months straight, with only three weeks at home to see his wife and child. That hit me. Here I was, living my best life, and he was grinding it out, far from his family. I felt guilty. When I got out of the buggy, I gave him a generous tip.
As I was heading inside, Five Star came out of her villa and casually asked how it was sharing with Ava. I hesitated, then admitted that Ava hadn’t tipped anyone—not the drivers, not the masseuse, not the excursion crew, not even at the restaurant. Five Star was not happy. She told me I shouldn’t have to cover for her, and honestly, I agreed—but I hate confrontation, and she wasn’t my friend. I didn’t have the energy to deal with it. Five Star said she’d figure something out later.
I finally collapsed into bed and napped for two hours. Felt slightly better, but if I’m going to be real, I could’ve slept all night. Snorkeling wiped me out. Ugh, I realized that need to be in better shape.
Five Star later mentioned the resort totes were $20, and she planned to buy one. I still have my Ritz-Carlton tote from Oahu that I use. She’s sentimental about souvenirs; I, on the other hand, take a picture and move on.
Ava eventually came back, just in time for our dinner reservation at Falhumaa. Before hopping in the buggy, I stopped by the lobby to pull out more cash. I asked Ava if she wanted to do the same. She flat-out said no. Okay then…
The guy at the desk was from Mongolia. I haven’t seen a Mongolian in ages. I like to ask people where they are from. It helps me identify peoples distinct features and I am genuinely curious about peoples lives.
Dinner was just as beautiful as the night before. The venue at night is unreal—so peaceful, so scenic.
There were even fewer guests tonight, which was fine by us.
The staff remembered us and, once again, gave us prime seating, free wine, and extra dishes.
Tonight’s amuse-bouche: artichoke tart. Chef’s kiss.
Of course, I had to order the Brie and pear soup again because it was that good.
Mango sorbet palate cleanser.
For my main, I got the potato gnocchi truffle with Vadouvian beef ragout and herb jus. This was one of my favorite dishes that I’ve had but I couldn’t finish it. It was a filling dish and I wanted to at least taste the dessert this time.
And because I am now a bottomless pit, I ordered dessert—mille-feuille à la vanille bourbon. Except, I totally mixed it up with mille crêpe. Ugh. It was good, just not what I was expecting. Blaming it on my lack of French skills.
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