Anti-coronavirus measures introduced by the Maldivian government in August require every visitor to present a negative Covid-19 test on arrival, taken within 96 hours of flight departure, which catches most imported cases. There would still be a 14-day quarantine required on my return to Hong Kong but I could do that in my new apartment, which I was looking forward to decorating.

I figured that as long as I could enjoy a holiday of a similar length to quarantine, then the hassle would be worth it.

I dusted off my bikinis, stocked up on coral-friendly sun cream, found a travel insurance policy that included Covid-19 cover (for a surprisingly reasonable price) and took my Covid-19 test at the Hong Kong Sanatorium and Hospital in Happy Valley, at a cost of HK$1,510 (US$195). Then came a curveball.

One-third of aviation routes have closed since Covid-19 decimated air travel

Less than 48 hours before I was due to depart, the government announced that as of November 13 – less than halfway through my planned trip – all travellers returning to Hong Kong must quarantine in hotels, at their own expense. Returnees would also need to have obtained a negative nucleic test taken a maximum of 72 hours before flying. (Maldivian government rules stipulate that if a guest tests positive during their stay, they must be accommodated free of charge in a designated quarantine villa at their resort for 14 days.)

I deflated quicker than a cheap unicorn floaty. It was an additional barrier – and expense – that appeared to blow my entire trip out of the clear blue water.

But with little prospect of escaping Hong Kong in the foreseeable future, and free flight changes with Qatar Airways, I decided to improvise, leaving a day early and cutting my 18-night trip down to six nights to avoid the new restriction.

Just over 24 hours later I checked in for the 17-hour journey to Malé (taking three times longer than a pre-pandemic direct flight with Cathay Pacific). I wondered if I would feel safe but, with the flight almost empty – perhaps a dozen passengers in business class and 30 or so in economy – all required to wear a face mask and shield for the entire flight, I had little to worry about.

The immigration process in the Maldives passed quickly and smoothly too, effectively socially distanced and taking no more than five minutes for the officer to tabulate my test results with the QR code that had been generated from the online health declaration I’d completed before departure.

From here on in, the new normal felt delightfully like the old normal.

On the 40-minute jaunt to Vakkaru, a reef island resort in the Baa Atoll, the seaplane pilots wear masks but fly barefoot. On approach, the atoll, a Unesco Biosphere Reserve, shimmers below in a paint chart of blues.

At the resort, mask-free honeymooners walk hand in hand on the beach and families frolic in gently lapping waves as my butler, Dima, guides me through frangipani-scented jungle and along a curving wooden walkway to my overwater villa.

The Maldives closed its borders in March and reopened on July 15. Only a handful of resorts stayed open throughout the summer, to cater to wealthy guests who had decided to wait out the pandemic in luxury. Vakkaru wasn’t one of them.

Like every returning member of resort staff in the Maldives, Dima, from Belarus, landed with a negative test in hand, was quarantined for 14 days, then took a second test before being given the all-clear to mingle with guests.

The staff are all wearing masks but, as that’s something we’re very used to in Hong Kong, it barely registers, other than to reassure me that protocols are in place to deal with travellers coming from countries with less effective disease control. Every island resort also has a doctor on staff.

“We follow [World Health Organisation] guidelines and have Zoom calls with the Health Protection Agency and Ministry of Health every day or two to keep on top of any changes,” says Vakkaru’s Dr Tayyab. “The mandatory arrival tests have created a safe bubble where we know most visitors will be Covid-free, and if we do find a positive case, it’s very easy for us to track, trace and test on an island with less than 400 guests and staff.”

The staff have been taught how to spot, tackle and stop the spread of the virus; most hotels now have their own testing facilities on site (Vakkaru charges US$150 for a PCR); and local island hospitals have been kitted out with Covid-19 facilities, should the need arise. It’s all so reassuring I decide to go naked – casting off my mask for the week.

Mornings find me meditating to the lull of the Indian Ocean, perhaps followed by yoga or snorkelling on the kaleidoscopic house reef, all complimentary activities at Vakkaru, which is currently offering 40 per cent off rates for its rooms – rooms that have played host to Madonna!

I cannot resist the siren call of the spa or the chance to snorkel with hawksbill turtles or to be swept up in a cloud of gigantic manta rays in Hanifaru Bay.

Do I avoid other guests? Yes, but I tend to do that anyway. And do I have to keep an eye on the constantly changing directives and regulations of the Hong Kong government? Yes, lest they pull the coconut welcome mat from under my feet again. But do any of these things ruin my enjoyment of some mask-free, carefree, fun-filled time in the sun? Nope.

It has taken courage for the Maldives to reopen, but there again it was left with little choice.

“It’s been difficult but without tourism there really is no Maldives,” Vakkaru general manager Iain McCormack says, referring to the fact that nearly a third of the nation’s gross domestic product and two-thirds of its foreign exchange receipts are generated by tourism. Not to mention the fishermen and coconut farmers, seaplane pilots and boat hands, environmental and educational endeavours that the industry supports. “We think the government have come up with a good plan.”

Already at the coalface of climate breakdown, the Maldives represents an extreme example of the economic importance of the tourist industry, which might provide some lessons for Hong Kong.

Coming up with a sensible plan for opening up shouldn’t have to mean waiting for a vaccine. As much as we need holidays, the people who make them happen need us too.

Vakkaru Maldives hosted the writer and paid for her flights.