Veragalle Point

08:00
Once again, awake earlier than I’d like. I also woke up a fair bit during the night. Unsure if due to the very loud but shit music at the beach party. At one point I was woken up by some bastardised remix of Michael Jackson. Not cool. I grab a pot of coffee from the guys downstairs, and repair to my hammock for a read, and maybe a doze.

13:00
It’s another stunning day in Mirissa, and I head for a walk down the beach. The water’s a little calmer than yesterday, but the breeze is still doing great things. I stop to say hi to Robin and Philippe, and wave hi to Leon as I pass Surf Bar. It’s not *quite* beer o’clock yet, so resist the urge to settle down in the shade for a sharpener. I’m heading for the sensationally named No 1 Dewmini Roti Shop, a 15 min walk at the other end of town. It’s pretty tough going in the, heat, and the restaurant is unlicensed, so I know ahead of time I’m not getting a reward beer on arrival. I find the roti shop down a little track. It’s bang on midday, and it’s already getting full. I grab one of the last tables, and ask for their biggest/coldest bottle of water. Roti in this form is unleavened bread, very similar to a paratha, or a chapatti, which is rolled into a square, stuffed with various fillings, then fried on a plancha or grill-plate until hot and crispy - very traditionally Sri Lankan. Mine is stuffed with prawns, vegetables and a local cheese, and served with a dhal, some pickled red chillies and a spicy ‘gravy.’ It’s banging. With the gravy and minced chillies, it’s properly hot too. By the end, my nose is streaming, in a very good way. There’s nothing particularly complex about it - but it’s just brilliant snack/brunch type food, and a snip at £2. I’m done by 12:30, and wander down to the beach to let my food settle, and to have the reward beer that I’m thoroughly overdue.

17:00
I’m coming towards the end of my time in Mirissa, and find myself reflecting on my time here. I think the best gauge of enjoyment of a travel destination is whether you’d return - and I absolutely would. I’d certainly be more mindful of soundproofing (!) but if you stay in a party town, you really ought to expect to some late night music, no? There’s a great selection of restaurants and bars, and the beach is just something else - one of my very favourites. There’s a very laid back vibe, and I’ve found it very easy to do next-to-nothing while I’ve been here, and that’s my kinda place. Most of all, I’m excited to bring Vicks here, as I think she’d love it.

As I’m typing this, there’s something of a kerfuffle. It transpires one of the sons of the family that run Sajana has been out on the lash this afternoon. Fair play, given it’s only about 16:30. His elder brother walks him up the slope to the house and throws him (not kidding…) to the ground in disgust. I’m sort of worried that he’s laid out flat on his back, and could choke on his vomit. Happily, when the time comes, he’s capable of rolling over to spew from a sideways position. The eldest brother gets home, picks up a rubber hosepipe, and starts beating him where he lays. It’s pretty uncomfortable to watch actually, but I’m very conscious it’s none of my fucking business.

So - last evening in Mirissa, and wondering what to do with myself. Kinda hoping there’s no beach party tonight so that:

a) I’m not tempted, and
b) I can have a good night’s sleep.

19:00
I’ve come down to Oh La La for Happy Hour, and to say goodbye to my friends. Srinath plies me with gins and tonic, and gives me an Arrack to try. I’ve seen this on menus, but avoided, placing it firmly in the ‘feni’ category of disgusting moonshine type alcohols. How wrong am I. The drink Srinath gives me straddles a line somewhere between golden rum and brandy - some fruit and vanilla flavours, and a smooth finish. Delicious straight, with perhaps just a piece of ice in it.

23:00
I take a wander down the beach looking for a restaurant called W&D that Robin has recommended as the best place (other than his etc etc) for fresh fish. Initially, I walk straight past it, but finally manage to locate it between a couple of others that I’ve visited for beers while I’ve been here. I’m greeted by Roshan (who later tells me to call him Roshi), who excitedly shows me the market stall style fish display. There’s some fish here I recognise, and some I definitely don’t. It all looks and smells beautifully fresh. Roshi tells me it’s all come from today’s catch. I mean, he would say that, but my eyes and nose tell a similar story. I pick out a giant prawn, and a small bass, order some drinks and sit down to wait. We’re right down at the shoreline, and the sensation of sand between the toes during dinner is a fabulous one. There’s a strip of restaurants all doing broadly similar things along this part of the beach. It’s a highly competitive environment, and none of them would survive for long if they were doing a decent job of it.

I sit back contentedly, and people watch. Near me, there’s confusion as an American lady doesn’t understand how to get into her lobster. I suspect she’s been used to being served shelled shellfish. She’s given an impromptu lesson into how to crack the shell, gently break the claws. Roshi is bounding up and down the beach, excitedly trying to lure diners into his restaurant. He has a mixed success rate.

My food arrives, and it is stellar. The prawn is, I think, the best I’ve ever eaten. When they’re done this well, and are this size, I think they’re better than lobster. The bass is also great. It’s a little different to the European seabass we’re used to eating at home, but I’m not sure what specific species it is. It’s slightly firmer fleshed than European seabags, and has a richer flavour. Mine’s been lightly spiced, and is served with a garlic chilli butter. Ball-bustingly good, and I say so to Roshi when he clears my plate. He asks if I’d mind leaving a Google review, which I agree to. I quickly knock out a review while he’s busy with other customers. When he gets a notification about the newly posted review, he rushes over to shake my hand, and to offer me drinks on the house. Is this what it’s like to be an influencer?

Walking back to my guesthouse, I’m conscious there is a downside to sitting at the water’s edge. I have been mullered by mossies. I can feel itchy bites all over my feet and legs. I’m an idiot. I’ve got an unopened can of Jungle Juice in my room. I’ve not felt the need to use it thus far, and just didn’t occur to me that being on the beach after dark would risk the mauling I’ve had.

Back at my room, there’s a faint sound of some loud music. I think there’s a smaller, more circumspect party at the far end of the beach. It’s certainly not loud enough to stop me from quickly falling into a deeeeeeep sleep.Read more