Day 5 - The Galle of it all...

17:30
Curses. I once again sleep poorly. Just awake a fair bit. Maybe it’s a touch of jet lag. I think a couple of times during the night I wake up feeling like my gallbladder is pulsing a little - which is WAY less cool than it sounds.

Vicki’s awake in decent time (:shocked face) and she, Shenda and I head out for what is rapidly qualifying as our customary morning coffee.

We head to a small rooftop restaurant next door to our hotel for a brunchy type affair around 11:00. I have my second kottu of the trip, and it’s even better than the first. The others all have a cheese stuffed roti as an appetiser. Shenda follows up with dhal, which is brilliant. So much more fragrant with cinnamon, clove and nutmeg than the Indian dhal to which I’m more used. Simon and Vicki have very tasty dishes of grilled swordfish (I think?).

Fuelled, we ready ourselves for an afternoon jaunt to Galle. It’s one of those cities that has a long track record of colony - initially the Portuguese in the 16th century, then by the Dutch in the 18th century, and finally the British in the early 19th century. There’s an old colonial fort, built initially by the Portuguese invaders, and grown significantly by the Dutch, inside which is a maze of cobbled streets, views of the ocean, and cool places to grab a beer.

We wander around the ramparts in the sunshine. It feels a little hotter today, though that might just be humidity. We’re all a little sweltering, and collapse into a tap house, which is called, well - Tap House. I have my first non Lion Lager of the trip. Still made by Lion, but a Belgian style witbier. Vicki has a virgin colada. Simon and Shenda end up with several litres of a white sangria. It doesn’t taste uber strong, but apparently has a combo of white wine, rum and vodka in it. Ahoy!

Galle is very pretty. We amble (stumble?) down Pedlar Street, which is the boutique capital of the city. We somehow manage to buy nothing, and end up walking to the other side of the fort, and up around the ramparts of the fort.

Back in Unawatuna, Vicki and I head for a sharpener at our local, and are greeted like long lost friends. I shall miss them when we move on tomorrow. Vicki and I briefly talk world politics, and the absolute fucking shitshow state the world is in right now, accompanied by a couple of glasses of white wine (for me). I find myself reflecting on Unawatuna. I wasn’t sure I was going to love it, but I’ve developed an unexpected attachment to the place. The beach is pretty, the bars serve super cold beer and are staffed by uber-friendly folks, the food has been amazing. What’s not to love? It’s maybe not the most chilled out of places we’ll visit, but we’ve a couple more stops along the way that’ll provide that kind of laid-backness. Ultimately, the best barometer is whether I’d return to a place, and I’d come back to Unawatuna in a flash.

We have plans this evening for a rice and curry at a place that gets banging reviews - so can’t dawdle too long. There’s food to be had.

21:30
Dinner was a treat. Mettha’s is basically a Sri Lankan family’s front room. They can feed a max of 8 people at a time, and have a super limited menu. We popped our head around the door a few days ago to ask if they were serving their famous rice and curry, and were told Wednesday was our first chance. So, here we are, Wednesday, and raring to go. The rice is served with 4 vegetable curries - green beans, a dhal, potato and spinach and perhaps my favourite, a pineapple curry. The 3 meat eaters amongst us also get a small dish of curried chicken, which is delicious. There’s no booze offered, as they don’t have a licence. It’s the simplest possible way to eat great food, and encounter great people. I give Mettha a hug as we leave, as I’ve been quite overtaken by the whole experience. I live for travelling moments such as this.

We stop in at Sands Beach for a post dinner prandial. As we’re readying to leave, a guy asks if we’re English, and when we say that we are, asks to join us. If we weren’t just paying our bill etc etc. He’s been here a week, and is feeling quite isolated, surrounded as he is by what feels like many thousands of Russians. Unawatuna has been largely taken over by Russian tourists in recent years, but not in such a way that we’ve necessarily felt it. There’s no animos, no tension. Very dissimilar to my time in northern Goa a year ago. Be interested to see if the balance of tourist population stays the same for our next couple of stops.Läs mer