This Maldives resort has manta rays on call

It’s my first day at the Four Seasons Resort Maldives at Landaa Giraavaru. After touring the hotel’s solar-powered desalination plant—which turns ocean water into drinking water through machinery that feels like an industrial-sized Aquaguard—I hear the nostalgic ring of an old-school Nokia. As two rings go by, Sabah—the resort’s marketing manager and currently also my buggy driver—gently suggests that it’s my phone ringing. So immersed was I in the recycled-glass crusher and the free-roaming hens that, for a moment, I forgot about the whole reason I was here: the waterproof-cased Nokia I was handed at check-in and told to keep close.

This unassuming phone is, quite literally, my connection to the ocean for the next four days. In a world full of notifications, this is the only one worth diving for, because when it rings, it means one thing: the mantas are here.

Landaa Giraavaru’s privileged position in the Baa Atoll makes it the undisputed winner when it comes to setting the hottest dates with manta rays. Just 15 minutes away lies Baa Atoll’s most prized natural formation—Hanifaru Bay, a keyhole-shaped lagoon and UNESCO Biosphere Reserve that turns into a full-blown marine rave from May to November.

At the resort’s world-class Marine Discovery Centre, I learn from biologists how the elements align perfectly to make Hanifaru Bay the largest known congregation of manta rays on Earth. Each year, monsoonal currents sweep plankton into the bay, trapping it within the narrow reef mouth. For manta rays—gentle filter feeders that can span up to five metres in width—it’s an all-you-can-eat buffet. Dozens, sometimes hundreds, of them swoop in, performing underwater pirouettes as they feed in perfect synchrony—often accompanied by a whale shark (or four).

Landaa Giraavaru’s Manta-on-Call service takes this spectacle to the next level. When the phone rings, I’m given half an hour to throw on my swimsuit, grab my gear, and head to the jetty. Soon, I’m on a speedboat slicing through cobalt water, my excitement racing faster than the twin outboard engines.

When the moment finally arrives, the boat stops just shy of the action. Even from the surface, the frenzy is visible—black kite-like “wings” breaking water every few seconds. Once in the water, I follow Dua, the resident manta biologist and our guide for this expedition. She points out into the blue, and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust before it all becomes clear.

I see one glide past, and goosebumps prickle down my body. Then another. And another. Before I know it, there are—by my count—at least a hundred (Dua insists it was closer to 30, but I stand by what I saw) manta rays barrel-rolling with mouths agape, feeding on the purple-pink-orange plankton swirling around us.

My mask floods with tears and snot, and the plankton makes my skin itch, but nothing in that moment matters more than the here and now—a razor-sharp state of presence I’d forgotten was possible to achieve.

Back on land, it’s easy to slip into the resort’s other, barefoot-luxe personality. At my Beach Villa, I rinse off under the al fresco shower and soothe my sun-stung skin with after-sun aloe gel. At AyurMa, the resort’s wellness sanctuary, I get my Ayurvedic dosha reading followed by a signature massage where I promptly doze off, only to be woken up by my own snoring—keeping up with mantas that can swim 30 kilometres an hour is hard work, after all. Dinner is often at the beach with my feet buried in cool sand—whether it is grilled fish at Fuego, Italian fare at Blu, or Asian comfort food at Café Landaa.

The next morning, as I sip coffee on my slice of private beach serenaded by an Asian koel, and later indulge in morning yoga at the spa’s overwater deck, I always keep one ear out for the Nokia. In a world where most devices pull us away from nature, I don’t mind having my attention commandeered by this one. For once, a phone connects you back to nature.