Layover in Hulhumale: The First Suburb in the Maldives?

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My discovery of Hulhumale, and that the Maldives somehow managed to have a suburb on an atoll, was entirely unplanned. All I meant to do was to re-visit the Maldives, eight years after my volunteering trip that kicked off this very blog. But that’s the thing with Asia. Some places stay unchanged for generations, while others metamorphose when you weren’t looking.

After leaving my first career, I felt an urge to retrace my steps to the place where I first learned the courage that made it possible. But I thought I didn’t want to do so exactly. I didn’t feel like I needed to literally re-visit Dhigurah, or other islands that I had visited before.

And I didn’t feel like doing exploratory travel either. I had just been to the UAE and South Africa, and the experience substantially extended my already lengthy writing backlog. Enough was enough! For once, let’s just have a perfectly normal vacation!

So I decided to go to Baa Atoll, even though it was the wrong season. I chose to stay on Dharavandhoo because it was convenient, and because it had a floating solar field and I was curious. However, when I began planning my island connections, I realised I couldn’t do my return journey without having a layover.

But what’s this? What were these numerous hotel options near the Malé airport? And… was the atoll that the airport is on always so built-up?

I tried to think back to my previous visits to the Maldives. I could’ve sworn that there wasn’t anything on Hulhumale then. But today, the airport seems to be surrounded by what looks like a town!

Curious, I decided to extend my layover, and spent an extra night in Hulhumale.

Malé, after a decade

I had a second glimpse of Malé as well, even though I hadn’t planned to. You see, Malé’s airport isn’t actually on the capital atoll itself. Velana International Airport is on a nearby atoll. You had to take a ferry from the airport to go to Malé. Having already seen the capital once, I didn’t think I needed to see it again.

But I did see at least the northern shore again. My boat transfer from Dharavandhoo goes to the one of the Malé jetties rather than directly to airport.

It shouldn’t have been notable. After all, I just needed to walk from the jetty where I arrived, to the jetty that goes to the airport. And yet that was enough to give me the sense that things have changed.

Did it have this many motorbikes before? The traffic seemed a lot more ‘urban’ rather than ‘island’. Wasn’t it easier to walk the streets as a pedestrian 8 years ago? For that matter, I seem to recall that walking was pretty much the primary way to get around Malé then. There were taxis, but they weren’t easy to find. There was certainly not a bus service, nor did it even occur to me that Malé needed one, given how small the capital island really is.

Yet I was looking at a public bus coming up towards me on a smooth tarmac road. And not a clunky secondhand bus either, but a modern one, with the destination shown on a scrolling electronic display in front.

Urban development matters

For those who haven’t seen Malé before, the change can be hard to appreciate. And to be honest, I can’t swear to what the specific changes are; it’s just a ‘feeling’ that I don’t remember from last time.

Last time, my impression of Malé was that of a city that grew upon an atoll, and – not unlike many cities in Asia – that dealt with the needs that come with urbanisation as they went along. It was dense, but also had a casual feel to the planning. The atoll was completely built up, yet it also somehow managed to fit amenities like a skate park and sports fields. At the risk of offending, I think I described it “like a pirate town, or the village in Perhentian, except the buildings are taller and the city is bigger”.

But this time, something about it felt different. I don’t think the city occupied any more space than it did. Nor would the layout have changed. And yet, it just somehow felt considerably more middle class. Were there as many multi-storey buildings before? Did they always have this much glass? Some apartment buildings that I passed by seemed almost certainly new. And surely, I would have remembered walking on well-paved asphalt, and being crowded out of it by vehicles.

But one thing was for sure. There were not as many women visibly working the last time. Last time, it was not even normal for girls to be in the water. Now it is no longer uncommon. There were women among the airport ground crew, and among the customs and immigration officers. There were women working in shops and driving around on scooters. And they do so while still looking and dressing like themselves.

Departing Malé on the airport ferry to Hulhumale

Didn’t I take the airport ferry from one of the numbered jetties last time?

Not finding the ticket booth that I remembered, I summoned Google Maps on my phone. What’s this? A ferry terminal? Sure enough, some distance away I came upon an actual terminal building. Inside were ticket counters and a seating area, and even an electronics charging station.

But one thing didn’t change. The airport transfer ferry is still $1.

On the ferry, I saw a prominent bridge and guessed that this was the link between the capital city and its new Hulhumale suburb. It was under construction when I first came to the Maldives. I passed it on a ferry at night, the lighted letters hinting at the changes that I was now discovering: China-Maldives Everlasting Friendship.

Today, the bridge’s name is Sinamale. I wonder if it basically translates into China-Malé.

Another prominent building gives a hint to another partner of Malé’s transformation. It was a large blue mosque with an interesting architecture that I didn’t remember from last time. Its name is King Salman mosque, after the king of Saudi Arabia.

Malé airport’s new look

The Malé Airport was being expanded. I’m not 100% sure that it’s new, but it has a wave facade now on the ocean facing side.

On arrival, I decided to take a taxi to my layover hotel. The drive took me past the part that’s still under construction. Close-up, I could see the latticework on the wave facade. I thought, this terminal is going to be gorgeous when it’s done.

Ever curious, I read the signs on the construction hoarding. As far as I could tell, the expansion was being built by a Chinese company. But the project funding was a combination of development banks from Saudi, OPEC, Kuwait, and Abu Dhabi.

First impressions of Hulhumale

If I was surprised by the changes in Malé, Hulhumale was nothing short of a revelation. For this was not just a new development, it was also clearly very good development. It was an ‘if you’re gonna do something, do it right the first time’ kind of development.

My hotel, like many others in Hulhumale, lay along the coastal road. You only needed to cross the street to get to the public beach. And while the sidewalks aren’t perfect, they’re fairly wide and pleasant. Hulhumale is quite pedestrian-friendly.

But that doesn’t mean that the Hulhumale suburb was built for tourists. The hospitality industry is really mainly concentrated along this beach strip. Residential apartment blocks began on the very next street inland, nor do they seem intended for foreign property buyers. Local people really live in this neighbourhood. The people in the shops and cafes aren’t only tourists, but also local Maldivians. I even saw a few eateries with menus only in Dhivehi, the Maldivian script.

The neighbourhood is medium density. Shops and restaurants occupy the bottom floor of apartment blocks. But there were pockets of more dedicated residential neighbourhoods with integrated green spaces and playgrounds, and those have an open ground floor space. It kind of reminded me of Singapore, except smaller scale.

Modern but authentic

And yet, somehow, they still seemed to retain a sea orientation to the suburb. It still felt more natural to go seaward than inland.

Clearly, reclamation created the land for this development. But they restored the beach and the lagoon. On the upper shore, there are rental places for water sports, and swimming lessons take place in the lagoon in the evenings. Heck, from what I can see in the mornings, school PE lessons take place in the sea! As it should, for an island people!

Frankly, it looks like damn good quality of life. Not posh, but good.

Hulhumale is surprisingly well-planned

I spent much of my layover just walking around. Despite the traffic, Hulhumale is a walkable neighbourhood. The more I saw of it, the more impressed I was. I’m sure there must have been compromises, since the Maldives probably does not have an unlimited budget. But for its level, the development planning is surprisingly sustainable.

The suburb was clearly designed to fit into the cramped space of an atoll, and yet somehow does not feel cramped. Yes, there were many hotels, but it felt like this is because tourism is the main industry for locals, not because tourism has crowded out the locals.

Pretty much all the amenities were walkable: schools, kindergartens, clinics, shops, restaurants, beach, sports centres, playgrounds. I walked past more playgrounds and playing fields in an hour here than is possible in any neighbourhood back home. There was room for children and elderly, and that makes a place feel alive and permanent, rather than transient and lonely.

It underscored to me with black felt marker, the difference between building “housing” or “housing estates” or even condos, and building neighbourhoods.

Building a neighbourhood, not just housing

Despite being about the same size, Hulhumale was not a city like Malé. Its composition could only be described as a suburb, at best a township. So the current residents must have moved here as the Maldives’ first suburbanites.

As someone who grew up in such a setting, I saw familiar signs of such a generation. Never mind the motorcycles and buses – I saw a Prius! But there were also bananas growing on the sidewalk, and gingers and other backyard plants. Every strip of land along the roads and even the alleys were planted – and not by the municipality either, but clearly by the residents themselves.

I have no idea if they were actually allowed, but found the fact that they did so endearing. I wonder if they also have urbanites who think such signs of human living as gardening and laundry ‘lowers property values’. But the fact that they still have the village impulse to feel ownership over the ‘yard’, even if the yard is actually now a public sidewalk, means that you can see old ladies out on the pavement or in the space between apartments, sweeping in the evenings, with a watchful eye over the children playing about.

Hulhumale feels like a neighbourhood. And I think it’s because they designed spaces to make possible some version of Maldivian atoll life in a denser urban setting, rather than just “housing”. I felt glad that if the Maldives is urbanising, they’re doing it more kindly than usually happens with rapid urbanisation. More like re-potting the neighbourhood, rather than ripping it up by the roots and scattering them on new ground.

Solar-powered Hulhumale

By the second day, I was desperate to get a view of the rooftops. This was not as easy as it sounds. Due to the density, there wasn’t an easy vantage point. But if the development was planned with Chinese assistance, surely it would also be at least partially solar-powered. And since the atoll has no space to waste, surely the panels are on the rooftops.

Eventually, I came upon a cluster of residential blocks where I found an angle to see the roof. Indeed, at least in that cluster, the roofs have solar panels on them. Walking further, I saw even more residential blocks under construction near the middle of the island, and these would be high density rather than medium. I wondered if it would have solar designed into it from the start.

Not all the rooftops have solar, but many do. As a coral archipelago with no fossil fuel resources, it is obvious why the Maldives would want to push for renewable energy. I could only imagine the costs of importing fuel for the small nation. Indeed, the advent of affordable solar stands to save them millions of dollars from reducing diesel imports alone.

Public transport and personal mobility

Solar power notwithstanding, the Maldives still clearly imports a lot of fuel. There was a lot of motorised traffic in Hulhumale, perhaps more than I expected considering the place isn’t even that big.

Honestly, Hulhumale was walkable enough that you could go to most places without a car. You wouldn’t even need a bicycle. The streets feel safe for children and elderly. People respect the zebra crossing, and there were lots of them. And there’s a bus system too, and spacious bus stops with roofs.

It’s hard to believe that less than 10 years ago, I had to hike from the hotel in Malé to the airport ferry transfer with my backpack. There were no buses and few taxis then.

You really just need personal vehicles to travel further, or to carry people and things (and for sure, there’s still a lot of that). But it seems that the Maldives has opted to let people have the choice to own personal mobility. On some streets, they’ve somehow even managed to squeeze in car parking spaces, typically near businesses. But motorcycles are popular for a reason on a small island.

I did see an interesting innovation attached to a few residential blocks though: a vertical garage. The idea is to park your car in the slot and the lift moves it up to a vacant space overhead. When you want your car again, you had to ask the attendant to bring your car back down. However, it doesn’t seem to be catching on. There were no cars parked in these vertical garages, even though otherwise there are plenty of cars.

Why I was impressed by (and jealous of) Hulhumale

My pleasure at seeing this development example was all the greater because I had only just been to Dubai’s Expo City some weeks earlier. Expo City was the city that the UAE built to host the 2020 World Expo. It was built as a sustainable mini city, bringing together the best sustainability professionals in the world to build what a dream sustainable city might look like with the best of our collective knowledge at the time. (Now, it is being turned into a real city and CBD zone.)

As a sustainability professional, of course I loved seeing Expo City. Especially since refurbishment works were still ongoing, so I could see the construction as well.

But Expo City is aspirational, where money was no object. Hulhumale, on the other hand, is what realistic sustainable urban development might look like for the rest of us mortals. And I admit, I felt jealous.

Hulhumale isn’t perfect. For example, there are no disability accommodations. However, it is only the Maldives’ second try at urban development. How is it that they built a sustainable urban neighbourhood better than we can in Malaysia, on their first try? The build quality is decent, maybe better than our PPRT (~council housing). And you’re minutes from everything. You’re not living in isolated condominiums marooned from one another, separated rather than connected by roads.

This is how our upcoming cities should urbanise. It’s probably too late for the Klang Valley, with the sprawling US-style suburbia layout mostly locked in. But it’s not too late for our other states.

Modernising without losing yourself

I think for many developing countries that urbanised in the 20th century, the experience often comes with the assumption of sacrifice. That you had no choice but to do it, in order to provide for your people’s basic needs. But that modernising meant sacrificing cultural identity, to become like the developed countries.

Of course, the cultural soul often resisted this, particularly in a country’s heartlands. So this tug-of-war between practical and cultural survival characterised much of our countries. And for others, it ground modernisation to a halt. I remember thinking this about the Maldives, last time.

But the 21st century is different. You have more role models now. Modern could look like East Asia, or Southeast Asia. It could look like Europe or it could look like the Gulf. You had more choice of development partners, who better understood your values and what you want for your people.

You could modernise and keep your character.

And it matters, when a nation gets from a less developed economy to a more developed one. You can see from how its people carry themselves differently. In the confidence, the assumption that they deserve to take up this space.

It’s even more so when the development retains their identity. Retaining agency about what one’s culture means, removes the belief that it is what’s holding the nation back. So they don’t have our habit of constantly seeking the approval of others for ‘how well’ they’re doing modern life.

The taxi driver taking me back to the airport pointed out the solar panels lining the entire way with quiet pride.

I think, when I return to Baa Atoll in the right season, I will add a layover in Hulhumale again.

Carbon offset information to the Maldives

A return flight between Kuala Lumpur and Malé produces carbon emissions of approximately 1,421 lbs CO2e. It costs about $12 to offset this. 

Have you visited the Maldives lately? Would you consider having a layover in Hulhumale?