The Maldives islands represent a peculiar paradox. The archipelago is being visited by thousands of tourists a year, but hardly one of them can claim to have really experienced the true Maldives or to really know its inhabitants. The islands where hordes of European tourists go are mainly thought of as artificial and totally devoted to idleness and amusement: nobody gets in touch with the locals and even the electric turquoise sea of these lagoons has the artificial beauty of some big luxury aquariums.

Everything has been made to measure: there is an island for those who are looking for sporting activities; one for total relaxation; one for erotic-exotic adventure; one for diving among sharks which, like some growling barnyard dogs, first show their teeth and then come closer to get food. Everything is very sanitized. It is true however that the islands devoted to this kind of amusement are not many compared to the rest of the Maldivian atolls.

They really are dream-places, amusement parks for those who want to spend nine days in total relaxation looking out at a wonderful sea with white beaches and palm trees stretching along the reef. These we already know.

That is why we want to look at the other Maldives, those that are segregated by the government and inhabited only by fishermen. Those which haven’t been touched by comfort and luxury, where the food is simple and where there is no air conditioning.

The happy “all-inclusive” tourists never seem to ask themselves how the natives live when they don’t work as waiters, where their children grow up, where and how their families live when the last lights of the village are switched off, what hides behind that blue cobalt line at the horizon, above the reassuring and imaginary border of the barrier reef. In fact nowadays most people’s reaction to a trip to the Maldives is not much more than a shrug or a faint smile, especially amongst experienced travellers: almost as if this decision would represent a bad choice, caused by aches and pains or an early senility.

What a pity! If lived without preconcept and a bit of imagination, the Maldives have a lot to offer, even to those who have travelled the world. The first hint is given on arrival at the fish market of Male, the capital of the Islamic Republic: a visit to the fish market should always come first, to taste a seaside locality.

Here one discovers that Maldivian fishes are not only the small, multicoloured ones we are used to seeing in aquariums, but they can also be quite terrifying: huge tuna piled up as chrome iridescent tins, piles of monstrous sailfish, lots of bloodied, cast-iron marlins, mackerels as long as sleek, oily torpedoes and huge-mouthed, fanged barracudas.

Above the market there is the tavern of the port, a place that could be compared to some of the best Indiana Jones locations. Here it’s a carrousel of greasy coconut and fish soups, mysterious Sri-Lankan style curries, incredibly spicy balls of mas for the joy of the adventurous traveller. Mas (the word simply means fish) is tuna fillet, first bled white, then dried under the sun and finally smoked: it feels and looks like an old shoe but its taste resembles that of a noble stockfish.

After having visited the tavern the interest in the place increases despite what the brochures may imply. And this feeling gets stronger when we try to board the domestic flight to Haa-Dhaalu atoll, last rampart at the very far north of the archipelago, just one hour by boat from the border with the Lakshadweep of India: everybody, airport staff included, bustle to convince us that we have chosen the wrong destination. Of course we don’t want to go there? It is true that until a few years ago the entire north region between the Haa-Dhaalu, Raa and Baa atolls was banned to foreign tourists.

For almost two hundred miles it’s just a chain of one deserted islet after the other, unexplored reefs, mysterious Buddhist relics, forgotten, rusty wrecks and fishing villages where probably no Westerner has ever set foot before. We will visit these islands during two weeks of navigation on a liveaboard trip going back to Male, from north to south: we will be the first divers visiting this vast and remote area. For many years we shunned this stunningly beautiful archipelago, fearing the party atmosphere of the tourists’ villages, defending our theory on the corruption of the local culture enslaved by the cult of tip and servility.

Of course, during our dives we’ve been lucky. We’ve met huge stingrays and even dolphins, reluctant inhabitants of the depths that many times in the past had let us down; lots of sharks (from big and sleepy nurse sharks to nervous grey reef sharks, from sinuous whitetips to a huge silky shark, looking like a vampire haunting the dark of a submerged canyon); gigantic groupers, sea snakes looking more like pearl necklaces than venomous reptiles; leaden-colored huge marbled stingrays and painted leopard morays.

From the remote coral reef of Hanimadhoo Faru we have sailed south, the first divers ever to explore the 19 th century relict of Filladhoo, the pass of Diddhoo, the reefs of Dekumandhoo, the beautiful Ettinghili reef and many more untouched localities and, finally, Horubadhoo Tilla, now very close to the well known depths of the central atolls. We have had the privilege of walking at sunset on deserted and untouched beaches, to be received with decorous reluctance by village chieftains who had never seen a western traveller before, to meet men who welcomed us with the Quran in their hands and suspiciously refused to have their picture taken.

But amongst so much simple beauty we have also got to know the real Lord of the Maldives, the dark Arabic Sea with its relentless, sickening oceanic swell, which stayed with us for many hours of navigation. And one day, in a clean and tidy coral village, under the shadow of the coconut trees, surrounded by a swarm of smiling children, we also encountered the dark shadow of smallpox, which even today (even if more and more rarely) still makes victims on these Islands, so tough and so beautiful. Islands harsher, more stunning and more intense than we could have ever imagined.