Once a destination for the ultra-rich, the Maldives is now embracing a more local, sustainable model of tourism that's changing who gets to experience paradise.

The air smelled faintly of watermelons and salt as our ferry pulled into the island of Thoddoo, and the soundtrack was the putter of motorbikes, not the thrum of seaplanes. Twelve years ago, when I last visited while filming an episode of BBC's The Travel Show, the Maldives was still a postcard fantasy of overwater villas, private islands and prices that kept most travellers at bay. Now, families were stepping off public boats with backpacks instead of bellboys unloading Louis Vuitton trunks. This wasn't the Maldives I remembered – and that was exactly the point.

Over the past decade, a quiet revolution has unfolded across the atolls. Government reforms have allowed Maldivians to open guesthouses on inhabited islands, breaking a long-standing rule that once confined tourism to unpopulated resort enclaves. The result has been transformative: more than 1,200 guesthouses now operate across 90 local islands, according to the Maldives' Ministry of Tourism. Travellers can experience the country's everyday culture, and, for the first time, local families can earn directly from the industry that powers their economy.

On my recent visit with my three children, I wanted to see what this shift looked like in practice. Our trip took us from the home-cooked hospitality of Thoddoo, often called the "farm island" of the Maldives, to a mid-range resort that's redefining what sustainable luxury can mean. Together, they tell a story of a country broadening its welcome and quietly reshaping what paradise looks like.

Stepping onto Thoddoo in the North Ari Atoll felt worlds away from the manicured perfection of resort life, much of which is found near the capital, Malé, in the North Malé Atoll. The public speedboat from Malé took 90 minutes and cost far less than a typical luxe resort seaplane. On arrival, we immediately noticed that the island's pace was immediately different – no cars, just bicycles and the occasional electric buggy buzzing between palm-lined, sandy lanes. Rows of papaya trees and watermelon fields stretched inland, ringed by the Maldives' iconic turquoise seas.

We stayed at the island's first guesthouse, Serene Sky, owned by Ahmed Karam, president of the Guesthouse Association of the Maldives and a leading voice in the country's fast-growing local-island tourism movement. Serene Sky was simple and spotless. The pillows weren't designer, the bathroom was modest, but the welcome was genuine, and the meals were home cooking at its best – fried reef fish caught just hours earlier, curried pumpkin from the farms nearby and the freshest watermelon juice imaginable.

Karam told me this new wave of community-led tourism has reshaped the landscape here. "Locals now benefit directly from tourism dollars," he said, "but it's also made us more aware of how much we need to protect what we have – the island, the reefs, the wildlife.........

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