One of the most unusual “shelter in place” episodes I’ve yet encountered.

The pandemic is going to ruin millions of the people it doesn’t merely kill, so the problems of these hapless newlyweds, who are unable to return to the jobs they presumably had or to the lodgings in Joburg on which they were presumably paying rent, do not elicit tears (nor scorn, to be sure: they seem like a perfectly pleasant couple) as they find themselves marooned, at “generously discounted rate,” on a luxurious flyspeck in the Indian Ocean, doted upon by bored staff.

The resort’s full staff are at hand, because of the presence of the two guests. Government regulations won’t allow any Maldivians to leave resorts until after they undergo a quarantine that follows their last guests’ departure. Accustomed to the flow of a bustling workday, and the engagement with a full house of guests, most of the staff, having grown listless and lonely, dote on the couple ceaselessly. Their “room boy” checks on them five times a day. The dining crew made them an elaborate candlelit dinner on the beach. Every night performers still put on a show for them in the resort’s restaurant: Two lone audience members in a grand dining hall.

At breakfast, nine waiters loiter by their table. Hostesses, bussers and assorted chefs circulate conspicuously, like commoners near a celebrity. The couple has a designated server, but others still come by to chat during meals, topping off water glasses after each sip, offering drinks even though brimming cocktail glasses stand in full view, perspiring. The diving instructor pleads with them to go snorkeling whenever they pass him by.

The full story here.

cordially,