I didn’t expect this place. The most iridescent aquamarine water I’ve ever seen. The seaplane landing — onto a floating dock in the middle of the Indian Ocean.
“Kagi Maldives. This is your stop.”
Expertly gliding the tiny prop plane, the barefoot pilot cuts the engine, flashes a wide smile, and opens the rear hatch. I’m bewildered. There’s no land in sight — not even a lone palm tree bent by the wind — just a bobbing wooden platform, seemingly adrift. Handing me my small carry-on, he smiles again and politely shoos me out. It’s only when I step onto the swaying dock that I see it: a sleek speedboat, crewed and waiting to ferry me to Kagi Maldives — an intimate, 50-villa sanctuary in the North Malé Atoll.
There’s a belief among scholars that the lost island of Atlantis — described by Plato as a powerful civilization rich in natural resources, sophisticated engineering, and concentric rings of land and water — vanished beneath the sea. Theories place its locale everywhere from the Atlantic Ocean (Azores and southern Spain) to the Mediterranean (Greece and specifically, Santorini). But as I move from boat to sandy island path — welcomed with warm smiles and cool towels — I’m convinced. Atlantis isn’t lost. It’s simply resurfaced: in the Maldives.
Shaped Like a Wave
My personal butler escorts me along a long, curvaceous plank walkway over the lagoon — fish and small sting rays swimming below — to my overwater villa. Before entering, I pause to slip off my sandals and ladle cool water over my feet. The ritual is immediate and grounding.
A plush bed draped in white greets me, its sea-facing view framed by neutral tones, natural materials, and a pared-back, minimalist design. A terrace door opens onto a private outdoor soaking tub and open-air rain shower, sculpted teak furnishings, and a sun-drenched deck with a plunge pool overlooking the sea. But it’s the snorkeling mask and perfectly sized fins resting beside a ladder descending straight into the lagoon that commands my attention. And I spend the rest of my day drifting quietly through the water, swimming alongside electric blue and yellow fish, rows of violet clams, starfish the size of ottomans, and a small shark that — after a brief acknowledgment — swiftly disappears into deeper blue.
Couples most often come to the Maldives — an archipelago nation of more than 1,200 coral islands, only about 200 of them inhabited — for honeymoons and romantic rendezvous. But many, myself included, come to Kagi for something more restorative.
Baani Spa.
Rising directly from the sea, the spa is shaped — quite literally — like a wave frozen at its crest. Atlantis, resurfaced.
Treatment Daze
Under Baani Spa’s teardrop-shaped, open-air skyroof, I’m welcomed with ginger tea and presented with a tray of beautiful oils, encased in glass bottles, to choose for my treatment: a full-body lymphatic massage. Over the next 90 minutes, Maria, who hails from Bali, moves slowly in a gentle, rhythmic motion, inching across my arms, legs, back, and abdomen. Lymphatic massage works to reduce swelling, boost the immune system, and calm the nervous system. A feeling of lightness lingers as I relax, tea in hand, before moving into the ocean-facing yoga room for a sound bath, an hour of resonant crystal singing bowls.
Before arriving at Kagi, I was told I would “love the spa.” (Note: I did; Kagi made our 2026 Very Best Wellness Resort list.) Still, I was unprepared for its magnificence — both in architecture and depth of treatments. Baani Spa, which means “ocean swell” in the local Dhivehi language, was designed by Yuji Yamazaki, a New York–based Japanese architect celebrated for infusing his work with organic form, balance, and harmony. (He has also been credited with designing one of the world’s first underwater villas.) The structure is a study in natural materials — light woods, glass — and uninterrupted ocean views.
The spa menu is equally impressive. Product lines include Epicurean and Healing Ocean from South Africa, while treatments draw from Maldivian (think: pure coconut) and Balinese rituals. Following sunrise yoga and a floating breakfast in my pool, I return to the spa for a two-hour Balinese massage (again with Maria), a blissful combination of long-stroke massage, warm seashells, facial, and reflexology.
Island Rhythm
Over the next few days, a one-with-the-sea rhythm develops. I rise early for sunrise yoga, journal over coffee on my terrace, dip into the lagoon for a swim or snorkel, and meander barefoot along sandy lanes dripping in bougainvillea and frangipani to the orchid garden. Afternoons draw me back to the spa for daily treatments — including a customized ear reflexology session — followed by a late lunch at Spa Corner, where healthy cuisine takes the form of fresh juices and smoothies, salads, and grilled fish. Dinner options include Ke-Un, serving Pacific Rim fusion, and Nonna, an Italian piano bar.
My time on the North Malé Atoll (also called Kaafu Atoll) — renowned for its natural beauty, luxurious resorts, and vibrant marine life — evokes, for me, the wonder of Atlantis. Kagi feels like its own civilization shaped by water, nature, and balance: days move with the tide rather than the clock, architecture rises gently from the sea, and wellness rituals draw upon ancient traditions. Being here is a gift that feels timeless, yet uniquely present.
Prior to opening as a wellness-focused resort in late 2020, Kagi was a natural sand-and-palm island — never residential, but occasionally visited by locals who foraged its shoreline for medicinal plants and other natural bounty. That quieter history is subtly woven into the resort’s design.
At Noo Faro, the main restaurant serving decadent buffet breakfast and lunch, large-scale portraits of “The Kagi Kamanaa” — women depicted in traditional Dhivehi dress — line the walls, the accompanying text offering poetic glimpses into the island’s past. One notes that the island’s shores were once considered sacred ground, entered only when necessary to collect healing plants such as turmeric, basil, and other endemic shrubs. Another imagines a woman wandering the beach gathering fallen coconuts and driftwood, hopeful for her husband’s safe return from the sea.
Atlantis, Reimagined
On my final evening, as the lagoon deepens from turquoise to inky blue, I slip back into the water for one last swim. Floating quietly, listening to the gentle lapping of waves against the villa stilts, it occurs to me: perhaps Atlantis was never lost at all. Perhaps it simply learned how to surface quietly, in unexpected places like Kagi — reimagined not as myth, but as a way of living one with the sea, if only for a few days.
The next morning, as if on cue, the ocean winks its confirmation. While boarding the seaplane from the wobbly ocean platform en route to Malé and eventually New York, I see them: a pod of dolphins frolicking.
Feature image, courtesy Kagi Maldives
