With a carefully controlled alarm call (we set it for later) we wake refreshed and head off for breakfast. Eeek! The table is set for two, has garlands on it and [only] has the other couples room number. By this time we have hands full with plates of breakfast (excluding the processed cheese still in celophane wrapper). So we sit down sheepishly and wait for Mohammed Ali to arrive. Several minutes later he appears and non-committaly says it's OK. We did have worries about lunch not being available [as we leave today], but breakfast?!
Still unsure about lunch, I pack away an extra cake, just to be on the safe side. We don't want me wasting away, now do we? Reception says that we can have lunch so I'll have to eat the equivalent of a breakfast muffin less. As a side note, it looks like we'll be missing "Asian Nite" tonight.
We have a quick detour to the jetty where we only see the usual suspect (snappers, trumpetfish, parrotfish, triggerfish, squid, etc.) but no Sharkey. Sharkey appears to have been replaced by some French scuba divers on the end of the jetty. There must be something in French citizenship courses whereby it gets imprinted on their minds that there should not be silence when more than three Frenchmen are gathered together. I hesitate to think of the underwater noise pollution they're about to cause. Maybe they all went to noisy discos as kids and now have to shout at each other. A German may well choose the most inappropriate moment to start a conversation (mid-recording, usually) or even jump on top of you off the jetty in scuba gear as you're trying to snorkel past but at least they don't let the far side of the island know about it.
We have the room until we go but I don't think that's going to help get my swimming shorts and T-shirt dry. It's really quite humid. In a moment of brilliance I turn the ceiling fan up to maximum and put the clothes dryer underneath it. A University education wasn't wasted on me!
We set off round the island to film the local fauna but only get a third of the way round before the rain hits and we take shelter for almost an hour. Lunch starts promisingly with four places set at the table but there's a moment of horror as we're troughing up when [we see] another couple are sat there. Amazingly, Mohammed Ali appears and ushers them away -- much to their disappointment. The same thing appears to happen to an Asian couple who are also leaving after lunch.
Our 2pm transfer (documented by the hotel as 1.45) arrives at 2.15. In the meanwhile we had to lug our bags around ourselves as the "room boy" failed to materialise. This boat crew also appreaed to take some delight in thrashing the poor boat to the limit, presumably enjoying our mild discomfort. No tip for these boys, either.
We are met at the jetty of Giravaru by a bloke who's remaining bleached hair is swept upwards, Keith from the Prodigy style. This [being met by someone] is a good thing as Andros starts to tell us how things work. Not quite such a good thing -- but not a bad thing -- we manage to get a full life story from him before we've finished our guest registrations.
Giravaru is one of the oldest resorts but it does seem quite well done although it is showing its age in places. We start a wander round the island but the rain starts. Dinner -- buffet style again -- isn't until 8pm which sounds like a long time away. Too long with Helen's current lucky streak at bao.
Dinner, whilst the same style as before, doesn't seem as hurried and tonight we are blessed with Maldivian Night so the food isn't the usual bland Western fare. We are by a table of Londoners who evidently haven't read the ample notices about the Maldivian Night. When told there was Maldivian music afterwards: Maldivian, is that special?
The jetty here is lit but no (obvious) Sharkey. We retire avoiding the Maldivian music in the bar -- though the PA appears to be pumping out the standard bass [line] -- and catch a few moments of TV Maldives. Today, tug-of-war. In the Maldives you get to dig a small hole [in the sand] to stand in -- I can't see that happening in an English field at a Country Fair -- and the TVM director saw fit to have a slow-motion replay of what must have been a particularly good bit of hole digging...
Giravaru N4.19916
E73.41219 Elev. 3m. 
Copyright 2002 Ian Fitchet. All rights reserved.