A Bed with a View
Isaac left for India and I went with Imran to meet two of his friends that had just arrived at another spot along the coast. Unawatuna is the sort of beachside town where locals are as good at catching tourists as they are fish.
We hung out for a few days. The beach was an idyllic stretch of sand with little boats and lightly filled guesthouses stretching all the way to the other end. The overpriced menus offered Western dish-a-likes such as battered fish and chips that turned out to be strongly smelling tuna.
One afternoon we saw some of the neighbouring old Dutch fort town, Galle. I was interested to learn that when the 2004 Tsunami hit, the old town was saved by the fort's walls and the renound Dutch irrigation system, but the new part suffered.
On the last morning, I decided to go diving with the guys. I'd brought my own mask and snorkel and didn't want to miss the one opportunity. The sea was slightly rough and I started to feel seasick on the way out. The boat anchored, and as I jumped in, I started being swept slightly away by a strong current. The men in the boat threw me a line. The lead diver gestured to go under and we swam down holding the anchor's rope. Something felt wrong, I was being pulled up to the surface. Maybe my belt wasn't weighted correctly? I tried again, but it was a struggle to go down. I tried to indicate to the man under water that there was a problem, but he shook his head and kept going down into the dark abyss. We were now at about 12 meters, and it was quite dark. I had the feeling that if I let go of the rope I would be sucked away by the sea. I persuaded him to take me back up; he explained the current was much stronger than usual, and so they took us to a different site. The new location was brighter and easier to navigate, but as I started to descend, I was feeling more nauseous... We kept going down. My ribs felt constricted by the equipment. I looked at my bubbles going now 15 meters up and as we reached the ship wreck, I had to plan how to take my regulator out, cease breathing to vomit, and put it back in without instinctively rushing to the surface, which is very dangerous in diving. I managed the deed and continued. There were all sorts of fish, the usual angel fish and Finding Nemo clown fish, plus some little black ones hiding in the coral. I found a giant purple octopus with short, wide legs like fins. The best siting for me was two squid. Despite thinking in the back of my mind that the first rule of diving is not to touch the flora or fauna, the diving instructor showed me that squid like being tickled. If they're unhappy, they change colour.
It's always wonderful to see the world beneath the sea, but that was when I made the decision to give up active activities (despite trying to convince myself that diving isn't strenuous because you're weightless under water). When you're an active person at heart, it's hard to accept, but after all this trip is about acknowkedging what's OK and what isn't OK and surrendering.
Afterwards, Imran and his friends headed West. I wouldn't be able to keep up with their itinerary and I didn't mind parting. I was looking forward to going to a retreat on a secluded beach towards the East. As soon as I got on the local bus rushing me away from the toybox tourist town, I felt better. The freedom of being alone can be bliss ... To be able do exactly what you want, to have no expectations, no discussions, liberated to do just exactly what you can manage and when.
The bus was piled with people. It drove so fast, so skillfully badly - almost knocking over pedestrians and upending tuktuks but never actually causing catastrophy. Passengers would leap on and off without it having to stop moving. It took a couple of hours to arrive at Tallala beach.
When the resort keeper showed me to my room he said it had been upgraded for free. The world had provided the perfect counter measure to the previous stress. It was an open room with bamboo rolled curtains and an open air shower with gorgeous stone green tiles and Ayurveda soap and shampoo. The 4 poster bed was so beautiful I could cry. I crawled through the opening in the mosquito net, made a little nest and slept for 12 hours.
If you raised the bamboo curtains all around the room, from the bed you could see palm trees, monkeys playing - gently gliding down one branch until they were level with another and could jump across - and hear the rainforest cucaws. I now had the ideal thing: a bed with a view. I thought about starting a tour company that takes people to the world's most magnificent beds...
The resort pool was set seamlessly into the ground. The compound had high gates, shutting Sri Lanka out, but I didn't mind. I could have muesli with coconut milk or rice flour pancakes and tropical fruits at the buffet breakfast and then move into a hammock with fresh ginger tea. For four days I challenged myself to rotate only between the sun lounger, one of the hammocks and the four poster bed.
However, two audiobooks later, I couldn't resist taking a stroll along the beach. I met a retired couple doing exercises on the sand in front of a little beach shack restaurant. They invited me to their house for lunch. I've been invited to houses before when travelling, so I didn't think it was too odd, but I considered informing the resort staff where I was going as a precaution. However, I reasoned they'd tell me not to go and persuade me to eat the expensive buffet lunch instead, so I chose to escape the compound silently.
Their house was beautiful on the outside, two stories with tiles, but unpainted. It was in a luscious setting - a garden of tropical plants, with little homemade toadstool chairs and a table in the garden, surrounded by rice paddies and two temples within view.
I was offered a coconut to drink from their garden while the couple fried the small fish they'd caught in the sea that morning and they served it with different curries and salads. Most Sri Lankan curries are coconut based, which makes them all delicious, but also quite repetitious. Afterwards, they started opening all the tropical fruits grown in their garden, and the amount in my stomach was becoming unsurmountable as they took no notice of my polite protests.
It turned out the lady had been a head teacher of a local primary school, and still taught at home in the afternoons. Some of her students would be coming at three o'clock. The man had been in the Sri Lankan army during the civil war, but when his wife developed a heart condition he went to work for the American Army and became the head security officer for the base in Iraq. In four years he was never able to return home but sent his wife the money to build the house and get treatment. It seemed like the funds had dried up before they'd had time to finish, because the interior was as bare as the day it was built.
I said I'd like to take a walk. The man took his bike and invited me to sit on the front bar, so I sat sideways while he cycled us to the nearest temple. I met the resident monk who showed us the restoration being done to the paintings of Buddha.
We decided to continue on the bike on a circular journey around the neighborhood, but after some time it started to downpour with rain. He gestured us towards his neighbour's house, so we darted inside for cover. This one was smaller, but finished inside with neat tiles and Buddhist ornaments adorning the walls. The lady of the house made us the finest fresh Sri Lankan tea and the friends chatted mostly in Sinhalese while I sipped on it.
When we returned to the couple's house, all the school children had arrived. I was expecting to see one or two students, but there were about fifteen all of different ages from four to eleven. They all stood up and introduced themselves in English.
Eventually I could feel myself slowing down, so said it was time for me to head back to camp; they kindly dropped me at the tall black resort gates in a tuktuk.
We hung out for a few days. The beach was an idyllic stretch of sand with little boats and lightly filled guesthouses stretching all the way to the other end. The overpriced menus offered Western dish-a-likes such as battered fish and chips that turned out to be strongly smelling tuna.
One afternoon we saw some of the neighbouring old Dutch fort town, Galle. I was interested to learn that when the 2004 Tsunami hit, the old town was saved by the fort's walls and the renound Dutch irrigation system, but the new part suffered.
On the last morning, I decided to go diving with the guys. I'd brought my own mask and snorkel and didn't want to miss the one opportunity. The sea was slightly rough and I started to feel seasick on the way out. The boat anchored, and as I jumped in, I started being swept slightly away by a strong current. The men in the boat threw me a line. The lead diver gestured to go under and we swam down holding the anchor's rope. Something felt wrong, I was being pulled up to the surface. Maybe my belt wasn't weighted correctly? I tried again, but it was a struggle to go down. I tried to indicate to the man under water that there was a problem, but he shook his head and kept going down into the dark abyss. We were now at about 12 meters, and it was quite dark. I had the feeling that if I let go of the rope I would be sucked away by the sea. I persuaded him to take me back up; he explained the current was much stronger than usual, and so they took us to a different site. The new location was brighter and easier to navigate, but as I started to descend, I was feeling more nauseous... We kept going down. My ribs felt constricted by the equipment. I looked at my bubbles going now 15 meters up and as we reached the ship wreck, I had to plan how to take my regulator out, cease breathing to vomit, and put it back in without instinctively rushing to the surface, which is very dangerous in diving. I managed the deed and continued. There were all sorts of fish, the usual angel fish and Finding Nemo clown fish, plus some little black ones hiding in the coral. I found a giant purple octopus with short, wide legs like fins. The best siting for me was two squid. Despite thinking in the back of my mind that the first rule of diving is not to touch the flora or fauna, the diving instructor showed me that squid like being tickled. If they're unhappy, they change colour.
It's always wonderful to see the world beneath the sea, but that was when I made the decision to give up active activities (despite trying to convince myself that diving isn't strenuous because you're weightless under water). When you're an active person at heart, it's hard to accept, but after all this trip is about acknowkedging what's OK and what isn't OK and surrendering.
Afterwards, Imran and his friends headed West. I wouldn't be able to keep up with their itinerary and I didn't mind parting. I was looking forward to going to a retreat on a secluded beach towards the East. As soon as I got on the local bus rushing me away from the toybox tourist town, I felt better. The freedom of being alone can be bliss ... To be able do exactly what you want, to have no expectations, no discussions, liberated to do just exactly what you can manage and when.
The bus was piled with people. It drove so fast, so skillfully badly - almost knocking over pedestrians and upending tuktuks but never actually causing catastrophy. Passengers would leap on and off without it having to stop moving. It took a couple of hours to arrive at Tallala beach.
When the resort keeper showed me to my room he said it had been upgraded for free. The world had provided the perfect counter measure to the previous stress. It was an open room with bamboo rolled curtains and an open air shower with gorgeous stone green tiles and Ayurveda soap and shampoo. The 4 poster bed was so beautiful I could cry. I crawled through the opening in the mosquito net, made a little nest and slept for 12 hours.
If you raised the bamboo curtains all around the room, from the bed you could see palm trees, monkeys playing - gently gliding down one branch until they were level with another and could jump across - and hear the rainforest cucaws. I now had the ideal thing: a bed with a view. I thought about starting a tour company that takes people to the world's most magnificent beds...
The resort pool was set seamlessly into the ground. The compound had high gates, shutting Sri Lanka out, but I didn't mind. I could have muesli with coconut milk or rice flour pancakes and tropical fruits at the buffet breakfast and then move into a hammock with fresh ginger tea. For four days I challenged myself to rotate only between the sun lounger, one of the hammocks and the four poster bed.
However, two audiobooks later, I couldn't resist taking a stroll along the beach. I met a retired couple doing exercises on the sand in front of a little beach shack restaurant. They invited me to their house for lunch. I've been invited to houses before when travelling, so I didn't think it was too odd, but I considered informing the resort staff where I was going as a precaution. However, I reasoned they'd tell me not to go and persuade me to eat the expensive buffet lunch instead, so I chose to escape the compound silently.
Their house was beautiful on the outside, two stories with tiles, but unpainted. It was in a luscious setting - a garden of tropical plants, with little homemade toadstool chairs and a table in the garden, surrounded by rice paddies and two temples within view.
I was offered a coconut to drink from their garden while the couple fried the small fish they'd caught in the sea that morning and they served it with different curries and salads. Most Sri Lankan curries are coconut based, which makes them all delicious, but also quite repetitious. Afterwards, they started opening all the tropical fruits grown in their garden, and the amount in my stomach was becoming unsurmountable as they took no notice of my polite protests.
It turned out the lady had been a head teacher of a local primary school, and still taught at home in the afternoons. Some of her students would be coming at three o'clock. The man had been in the Sri Lankan army during the civil war, but when his wife developed a heart condition he went to work for the American Army and became the head security officer for the base in Iraq. In four years he was never able to return home but sent his wife the money to build the house and get treatment. It seemed like the funds had dried up before they'd had time to finish, because the interior was as bare as the day it was built.
I said I'd like to take a walk. The man took his bike and invited me to sit on the front bar, so I sat sideways while he cycled us to the nearest temple. I met the resident monk who showed us the restoration being done to the paintings of Buddha.
We decided to continue on the bike on a circular journey around the neighborhood, but after some time it started to downpour with rain. He gestured us towards his neighbour's house, so we darted inside for cover. This one was smaller, but finished inside with neat tiles and Buddhist ornaments adorning the walls. The lady of the house made us the finest fresh Sri Lankan tea and the friends chatted mostly in Sinhalese while I sipped on it.
When we returned to the couple's house, all the school children had arrived. I was expecting to see one or two students, but there were about fifteen all of different ages from four to eleven. They all stood up and introduced themselves in English.
Eventually I could feel myself slowing down, so said it was time for me to head back to camp; they kindly dropped me at the tall black resort gates in a tuktuk.
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