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Sri Lanka - March 2024Sri Lanka - March 2024
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Colombo, cricket, coconuts, curries, Kandy. Read more
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  • Tim's TravelsSri Lanka - March 2024
    Day 1

    Day 1 - Solo Sojourn

    March 4 in England ⋅ ☁️ 9 °C

    09:30
    I know, I know - it’s only been a couple of weeks. A very different form of travel this time. A distinctly lower budget, planning closer to free form jazz than the tightly wound trips I’m more used to organising, but most notably - because this journey I’ll undertake alone. It’s not for everyone, but it’s a method of travel I adore. Some folks will tell you that solo sojourns allow you to be more selfish, to do what you want, when you want and without compromise. I suppose that’s true, but I would never describe Vicki and my travels together as compromise laden burdens. Perhaps we’re fortunate that we largely want to see the same things, experience the same experiences. There are exceptions - later this year for instance, I’ll head into the Amazon for a couple of days, whilst Vicks and Tam (my cousin) stay in the relative luxury of a Manaus hotel…

    No - what excites me most about travelling on my own is that I know it changes my mentality, my social and emotional openness. Without my wonderful wife by my side, I seek social interaction in a wholly different way. On the train up to Gatwick, I find myself recalling with great fondness the 52 hour train I took from Ernakulam in Kerala all the way up to Agra, some 3,000 kms to the North. I'd worried I’d be bored, but found instead that the journey flew by. Whether it was hanging out the side of the train watching the world go by, playing cribbage against a wily old Indian chap called Baljit, setting up the one and only running of the ‘Where the fuck are we? Sweepstake’ - I spent a delightful couple of days meeting new people, and learning about their lives, and their country. Sri Lanka is not remotely on the scale of India. Despite this, I’ve a couple of 6-7 hour train rides to look forward to.

    I’ve wanted to Visit Sri Lanka for many years. Vicki and I have just never quite got around to it. All my friends who have visited have adored it. I mean - what’s not to like? Beautiful scenery, tropical weather, stunning beaches, incredible sea-life including (hopefully) the mesmerisingly huge blue whale, food that wows with each mouthful, an intriguing and at times indescribably sad history. I CAN. NOT. WAIT.

    Small matter of an 18 hour journey first though…

    11:15
    Another artefact of travelling solo is that, fairly unsurprisingly, I have more time to write. Some of that will be dedicated to a slightly different style of travel journal - more observation than factually driven, and featuring more opinion, more reaction. Much will also be given over to working on a couple of books, but that’s for a different day. As a result of this writing time windfall, you can expect more frequent but shorter updates, capturing 'a la minute' what I’m seeing, hearing, experiencing. I love keeping a daily retrospective travel journal when I’m on the road with others, but there’s something special (for me as a writer, at any rate….) about documenting in the here and now.

    Gatwick North terminal is just about the quietest I’ve ever seen it. Turns out Monday morning in the last throes of the UK winter is a great time to travel. North terminal is where easyJet’s 100+ flights per day depart from, and during the Summer, the terminal is buzzing with folks headed off on their Summer holidays. This time of year, less so - weekends can still be pretty hectic, but this morning there’s barely a trickle of passengers. My bag is dropped within seconds of entering the terminal, and the security check is even quicker. A first for me - a new security queue is opened for me as I walk up - no queue, no fuss. Less than 30 minutes after my train arrived into Gatwick, I’m ordering some breakfast, and an obligatory airport pint. I start chatting to a Northern Irish lady sat next to me, who seems a little confused by the whole experience. She’s headed home to Belfast after a weekend visiting her daughter in London. We discuss for perhaps several too minutes too many whether she can still order from the breakfast menu at 10:45. She seems a little put out when I suggest she speaks with one of the people who, you know - work there. Wandering up to the other end of the terminal, I find that there have been quite a few updates since I last travelled through here - most notably the addition of a Brewdog bar. These are dangerous times. Still, my flight’s not for another couple of hours…

    12:36
    Here’s what they (I) don’t tell you about travelling solo. When you’re 3 pints in, and your bladder waves hello, you’re stuck with a stark choice. Do you

    a) pack all your stuff up, head to the bathroom, and hope your table (or another one) is still available when you get back, or
    b) leg it to the bathroom, leaving all your stuff on the table, hurriedly finishing your pee before rushing back to make sure some light-fingered little scrote hasn’t walked off with your gear.

    At an airport, it’s always the former - unattended bags and all that. When you’re in country, and at a quietish bar? A more difficult choice. Many people are of the “could you keep an eye on my bag/stuff please?” brigade, relying on the good will and trustworthiness of their fellow patrons. Resist this urge. If someone asks me to keep an eye on their stuff, I like to hide it from them, so that when they get back, they have a momentary panic, before I hand back their belongings. Of course, not everyone is a mischievous prick like me, but you can’t really tell by eye-balling someone, can you?

    23:40 - somewhere over the Arabian peninsula…
    Flight’s been fine. I ADORE the A380. Just the best plane I’ve ever flown on. I’m in Economy, but there’s so much space. I have an extra legroom seat, so can stretch out to to my heart’s content. It helps that the flight is barely half full. Apparently this is a rarity for the A380 flights leaving Gatwick. The cabin crew are overjoyed at their workload being halved.

    I meet my row colleagues as we board. Very weird coincidence - we were on a flight to New York with them about 4 months ago. Not 'with them' but sat a couple of seats nearby. We briefly had a chat with them while we were in the bar area of the Upper Class section of our flight. They are better than me at asking for things, and coerce one of the cabin crew to fetch us a G+T very shortly after take-off. I’m far more parsimonious with plane-based drinking than I used to be, but will happily admit to being very content to throw a couple of gins, and a few glasses of vin rouge. I try and sleep for a while, but it’s not happening. I just don’t think I’m tired enough. I suspect the relatively short (4 hour) hop to Colombo from Dubai will be a sleep free zone, so I’ll likely arrive at my hotel in several states of disrepair.

    We’re just a few hundred clicks North of Dubai when the Captain informs us that there is congestion at DXB Airport, and we are likely to be around 1 hour late landing. I have a 2 hour transfer window for my next flight, and I know from experience that even 90 minutes can be cutting it fine if DXB is busy. The airport’s huge, and takes time to get around it. There’s also a security check to complete. Still - it could be worse. I could be the lady sat behind me who’s basically just been told that her connecting flight to Sydney is going to take off approximately 2 minutes before we land. These kind of delays are always frustrating, but also inevitable. I’ve spent countless hours in the hold pattern over Heathrow over the years. I think it feels worse because you’re so close to your destination. I call for more gin, and keep my fingers crossed we won’t be delayed any further.    Read more

  • Tim's TravelsSri Lanka - March 2024
    Day 2

    Day 2 - Peter Falk in a Dirty Mac

    March 5 in Sri Lanka ⋅ ☁️ 28 °C

    02:40
    That was CLOSE. Well, sort of.

    We’re just over an hour late landing, meaning I’ve less than an hour to deplane, get through security and get to my next flight. It’s departing from gate B22. The plane I’m on sails past the B gates, and ends up as far away at the A gates as possible. This just adds to my task. Sydney lady has given up the ghost, but I’m going to do my damnedest to make it. I hustle to the transfer desk, silently and not so silently swearing at slow moving people who get in my way. The queue at the security check is blissfully small. There’s still the usual rigmarole of removing liquids, taking out laptops etc etc. And there’s the usual category of passenger for whom this seems an utterly alien task. Having cleared security, I make for the transit station. The gate I need is SO far away that I need to take a train to get there. There’s another guy trying for the Colombo flight who’s just been on the Gatwick inbound flight with me. We keep pace with each other, we glare at the same people that slow us down - it’s good to have a comrade in these circumstances. Off the train, into a lift, the doors of which never seem to want to close. Out of the lift, find a sign for B22 - we’ve got about 5 minutes until the gate closes. There are slow people EVERYWHERE, but despite their best efforts, we both make it to the gate in time. Just in time, but in time nonetheless. We’re immediately boarded, find our respective seats, aaaaaaaaaand - sit there like lemons for 25 minutes while the plane waits for some passengers transferring from delayed inbound flights from Europe. I am a hot sweaty mess, and more than a little irked that my mad dash across the airport appears to have been unnecessary.

    07:30
    4 hours passes incredibly quickly. I manage to sleep for about 1.5 of them, and am only woken when the plane starts its descent into Colombo. I suspect the brief kip I’ve had will be enough to get me through the airport and to my hotel ok, but that my afternoon is going to be full of naps.

    11:15
    Arriving into a sub-continental airport, you’re really never sure what to expect. I’ve had good experiences (Goa), average experiences (Mumbai, Goa), and terrible experiences (Delhi, Goa). Colombo pleasantly surprises me. It’s a relatively modern building, well air-conditioned, and actually pretty well organised. There’s a slight hiccup at immigration when it transpires that I have yet to complete an immigration form that no one has told me about, but we smooth over that fairly quickly. 20 minutes after landing, I’m waiting at the carousel for my bag, and a further 15 minutes after that, I’m in the back of a very heavily air-conditioned cab on the way tot the city centre. My driver is a jaunty chap called Pradeep. He’s keen to practice his English, so I’m subjected to a rapid-fire interrogation - have I been to Sri Lanka before, where am I going while I’m here, how old am I, what I do for a living (that one’s interesting, to say the least)…

    Pradeep’s driving is - let’s not beat around the bush here, - atrocious. He’s not alone though - everyone driving on the roads seems to have a death-wish of sorts. I think my only comparable experience was my first cab trip from Mumbai airport into the city way back in 2007. On the Expressway, the concept of lanes is just really a guideline. Cars, bikes, trucks - all weave in and out of traffic to try and get where they’re going that tiny little bit faster. Pradeep’s Prius also makes a slightly worrying vibration as it reaches 100 kph. There’s also a faint smell of burning. A couple of times, he veers quite dramatically towards the central barrier. As we hit the outskirts of Colombo, the traffic slows. I think this is a good thing, as it means less chance of us smashing into another vehicle. What a tool. The additional vehicles merely mean the chance of incident has sky-rocketed, as there are more vehicles to hit. We approach a traffic light. There are 3 marked lanes for traffic. I count at least 8 cars abreast lined up at the front of the queue. All this near-death stuff shouldn’t detract from the thoroughly enjoyable, visual introduction to Sri Lanka. We race past rice paddies, many cricket pitches, several wattas (watta is the Sinhalese word for garden, and used idiosyncratically to describe the slums around Colombo, which - whilst nothing on the sheer size and scale of the Mumbai slums, are still notable. As we near the city centre, I’m fighting to stay awake. My eyes are hazy and heavy.

    My home for the next two nights is C1 Colombo Fort - a hybrid hotel/hostel that’s very well reviewed, and very cheap. They don’t have a room available for me at 10:00, and suggest I sit in the air-conditioned reception area to wait. I try reading, but nearly fall asleep. I try writing this journal, and nearly fall asleep. I try watching some TV on my iPad, and nearly fall asleep. Finally, I decide to try falling asleep, and nearly fall asleep. Something in the reptilian part of my brain won’t let me drift off in an unfamiliar place with my bags scattered around me. As self-defence mechanisms go, it’s not a bad one.

    17:30
    Three hours later, my room is finally ready. It’s basic, but clean and functional. Critically, it:

    a) is cold, and
    b) has a bed in it. Two actually.

    The guy who brought my bags up has barely left the room before I’m face down on the bed, deep in the land of zizz. I’ve nominally set an alarm for around 16:00, but decide to push this back an hour, and make the most of an unplanned afternoon. I wake up feeling pretty well refreshed. Still a bit jaded around the edges, but capable of leaving the hotel, and having an explore this evening. Quick freshen up I think, then off we go.

    19:30
    I’m not planning to stray *too* far from my hotel this evening. I’m staying in the Fort area of Colombo, which seems to have lots of options for food and some beers, and I just don’t have any sense of the city’s geography yet. It’s dark by the time I head out, so I figure discretion is probably the better part of valour this evening. There’s a weirdness about walking around a busy city for the first time at night - a slight tension. I don’t know which are the good neighbourhoods, and which are the ones to avoid. I definitely do NOT understand road crossing etiquette yet. There are no pedestrian crossings as such, so I just follow along with other pedestrians, in the hope that none of them are suicidal.

    I head off in the vague direction of some places that sound cool, and end up in a very smart tea shop. Now look, I could tell you that tea is of almost religious importance in Sri Lanka, that I want to be respectful to this centuries old tradition. The truth is, as I was walking past, I thought it was a bar I was aiming for, and once I’d entered the tea shop, it felt rude not to order something. I peruse the menu like some kind of connoisseur, but the truth is I barely know my Ceylon Sapphire from my PG Tips. I opt for a Ceylon Souchong, on the basis that it’s got a fun name, and end up with a very cool pot of tea, and a little timer to tell me for how long the tea needs to brew. The flavour is amazing - vaguely fruity and hint of smokiness. Still, tea’s not really what I came out for…

    22:00
    Wandering around the neighbourhood, it transpires that I’m largely surrounded by big, international hotels, the eating and drinking establishments of which are typically very shiny, and (by Sri Lankan standards) very expensive. I stop at a bar for a beer, which costs me the best part of £5. There are two beers on tap, both of which are pretty standard lagers - Carlsberg, and a local brew called Lion. I plump for the latter, and it’s - well, ok I guess. It’s cold and refreshing, which is fun, but there’s very little in the way of flavour. Wine is both rare and expensive around here, so I may end up drinking large quantities of gin as my default setting.

    The bar has a distinctly international feel to it, by which I don’t mean that it’s terribly chic, and with the mystique of the jet-set, but rather that you could drop it into most global cities I’ve visited and it wouldn’t look out of place. What am I trying to say - there’s nothing ‘Sri Lankan’ about it - it’s catering to the type of traveller that has neither the inclination nor perhaps the time to dip more than a toe into Sri Lankan culture during their stay. I’m giving myself a pass for this visit, as I’ve only been in town a few hours. There are several TVs showing cricket in the bar, to add to the several TVs showing cricket in the airport arrivals lounge, and I’m reminded that Sri Lanka is as cricket mad as nearby India. The two barmen are enrapt by what’s showing. I turn to look, to see if it’s some International match that Sri Lanka are playing in today, but no - they’re hooked into a replay of a game from 2008, featuring two sides - neither of which are Sri Lanka. I’d love to see a cricket match while I’m here. Sri Lanka are currently on tour, so it’d be a domestic game, but some of the stadia used are those used for International cricket that I’ve seen on TV before, and it’d be a wonderful experience to spend a few hours at one of them.

    My dinner nearby , whilst excellent costs more then £20 - certainly more than I’d budgeted/bargained for. Still - it’s incredibly tasty. Some beautiful, plump battered prawns with a pineapple sambal to start. Seafood is, unsurprisingly, a huge part if this island’s cuisine. These sambals are also a staple of Sri Lankan dishes - midway between a relish, a sauce and a salad, spiked with chilli. It’s pleasantly hot, and the prawns are sensational. To follow I have a mutton curry with some plain steamed rice. It’s beautiful. Flecked with fresh curry leaves, definitely some coriander seed and cinnamon in there, and with meltingly tender, er, meat. In India, mutton tends to refer to goat, rather than the very specific definition in the UK of a sheep that is more than 2 years old. I suspect Sri Lanka is aligned to the former. Irrespective, it’s delicious.

    I briefly consider another beer, but I’m flagging. Despite an extensive afternoon sleep, I’m still working off 5 or so hours of sleep, so head back to the hotel. It’s still hot, and very humid. My room is a delicious cocoon of cool. I read for maybe 5 minutes before falling quickly into a deep sleep.    Read more

  • Tim's TravelsSri Lanka - March 2024
    Day 3

    D3 - Mooching, market, Ministry of Crab

    March 6 in Sri Lanka ⋅ ☁️ 27 °C

    Wednesday 6th March - Mooching, market, Ministry of Crab
    09:30
    Wow. That was some sleep. Including my afternoon nap yesterday, I’ve had around 14 hours, which I take as a sign that I was knackered and needed it. I woke up around 02:00, and was awake for a little while - but happily managed to doze off again before my brain started ticking over. I don’t really have a much of a plan today. I’m on a walking tour this afternoon, but have a morning of mooching ahead of then. I find I’m not in a hurry though. Not hungry, so don’t need to head out for breakfast. Could do with a coffee though. Back soon.

    18:00
    The temperature is 32C, and humidity is in the late 70s. I am one hot motherfucker. This afternoon’s walking tour has been fascinating - a great insight into some of the history, architecture and culture of Colombo. There’s a lot of colonial architecture still standing, some of it in much better nick than others. Also worth remembering that ‘colonial’ for Sri Lankans starting in the 16th century with the Portuguese colonising, following by the Dutch, who were booted out by the British in the mid 1800s. What’s staggering is that each consecutive colonising nation basically tore down everything the preceding invader had done, and started again. There’s very little evidence of the Dutch influence, even less of the Portuguese. The Brits turned up, decided they could do it better, and started over.

    We stop for a cup of tea (and a cool down) at the Grand Oriental Hotel. This old dame of the orient dates back some 170 years, and is frankly showing her age. That said, the tea is lovely, and the views from the rooftop bar are pretty cool. From there, we head down to Pettah Market, the bustling hub of commerce in the city. It’s manic in the best possible way. We spot a great bit of road rage occurring in front of us, when a truck driver nearly runs a tuk-tuk off the road. The two drivers exit their vehicles, and are really going for it - proper slanging match. No violence ensues, but I suspect at least one of them has been called a sisterfucker. We walk past the Apple store - same logo and everything, except this one sells… *checks notes* women’s underwear. Meandering through the Pettah food market, I’m struck by a couple of things:

    a) The produce here is much smaller than in the UK. There are pumpkins the size of tennis balls, onions the size of ping pong balls, and daikon the size of small carrots
    b) The baggies in which pre-ground spices are sold are almost exactly the same as those that drug mules seem to swallow before boarding their flight.

    There’s a very striking mosque in the market, built in the early 20th century. Our guide, Navindra, tells us that the stonemason who built it came to see it for the first time after it was completed, but was run down and killed two streets away. After a few hours, Navindra leaves us near Fort Station, and I make the sticky walk back towards my hotel.

    21:30
    I have an urgent and cold shower, and head out for a beer. I find a cool little place near the Dutch Hospital, which has a Sri Lanka cricket game playing on the TV. The bar is quite raucous. I chat to one of the bartenders for a while. He’s visited the UK, and spent a couple of days in Brighton while he was there, so we have lots to talk about. I could quite easily put down roots here, but must go, as I have a dinner reservation at Ministry of Crab. Shit name, great restaurant. They specialise in…. Really? Crabs come in many different sizes, as do the giant freshwater prawns they have available. The food is mindbogglingly good. Mine is cooked with black pepper, chilli and garlic. It’s the best crab I’ve ever eaten. The garlic rice served with it is highly addictive. I treat myself to a glass of wine (well, a couple actually) to wash it down. It’s a brilliant meal. Not cheap, but good shellfish never is.

    Tomorrow is moving day, and I find myself reflecting on a couple of days in Colombo. I’m not desperately sad to be leaving for the South coast. I think that’s partly the oppressive weather conditions, but also that I’m just not the biggest fan of big subcontinental cities. I’m excited to visit the smaller towns and rural outposts around Sri Lanka, that I suspect will give me a much better insight into the character and culture of this beautiful island. I’m back in Colombo for an overnight stop before flying home, so will be interesting to see what my take is on second viewing…    Read more

  • Tim's TravelsSri Lanka - March 2024
    Day 4

    Day 4 - The Coastal Line

    March 7 in Sri Lanka ⋅ ☁️ 27 °C

    10:30
    I have a strange night’s sleep. I’m fast asleep by 23:00, but wake up just before 01:00, and am awake for a good 2-3 hours. It’s extraordinarily dull. I drift off again around 04:00, and sleep happily through to my alarm at 08:00. Weird.

    I’m finding it tricky to make card payments here. I’m not staying in big chain hotels, but rather small, independent and often family run guesthouses. Many only accept cash. I’m conscious that the cash I’ve brought from the UK means I’m paying at a premium - the exchange rate was poor - so I need to top up from a cash machine locally to get a better rate. Seems counterintuitive, but it is what it is. Walking around the Fort area around 09:00, it’s beginning to heat up. There’s a pleasant breeze when I leave the hotel, which by the time I head back, has turned into a warm and sticky breeze. I’ve got my cash, and stocked up on supplies for my train journey this afternoon. Opinions vary as to whether there’s any water or snacks to buy on board. It’s a pretty short 4 hour hop, but always pays to be prepared.

    The train’s not till 14:00 or thereabouts. I really do mean thereabouts. My ticket says 14:40. Google Maps reckons it’s 14:20, Sri Lanka Rail’s website thinks somewhere in-between, at 14:32. I think the belt and braces approach is to make sure I’m there for 14:20, right?

    13:15
    YES. This is more like it. I’m packed in time for check-out at 12:00, eking out the last possible moments of the frosty A/C in my room. I head out to grab a quick lunch before heading to the station, and stumble across (literally - there was a massive step outside, upon which I very nearly came a cropper) a brilliant little restaurant, where I tuck into a rice + curry plate, which sets me back all of £1.50. Rice + curry feels to me to share a great deal of DNA with the Indian Thali - a buffet for one, featuring a series of different curries and chutneys alongside a bowl of rice, or some roti. I opt for the veggie version, and receive a bowl of excellent dhal, some spiced green beans, and what I think are some curried baby aubergines. There’s also what looks like some dried coconut mixed with some chilli as a sambal. I wash it down with a couple of pints of Lion - each of which is comfortably more expensive than my food. On the Tim scale of heat, I’d put it at 2 meatballs. Quickly, I can feel the pin-pricks of sweat forming on my forehead. It’s a pleasant sensation.

    There’s some consternation when my dishes are collected that the coconut sambal type thing is all gone. Apparently, this is a chilli seasoning spice used to allow diners to adjust the heat level of their food. I did think it was a touch on the warm side…

    14:52
    Ok, so for future reference, trust the ticket. My train to Matara pulls in at 14:37, and we pull out of the station a shade after 14:40. There’s some confusion (all mine) about where my seat is. To be fair, there’s nothing on my ticket suggesting where I’ll find it. I board a carriage, and all but accuse a Sri Lankan woman of sitting in my seat. She very kindly and patiently explains I’m in the wrong carriage.

    My seat is blissfully cool. The temperature today is hovering around d 32-33C, but with the humidity, feels more like 37-38C, and I stupidly decided to walk the relatively short distance from my hotel down to the station. Probably saved myself all of £1 in tuk-tuk costs. I’ve chosen an air-conditioned seat for this train journey. It, of course, means that the windows won’t open, and photo opportunities will be limited. I’m ok with that today though. I’ve got a second class ticket for the train ride from Ella down to Kandy, which is reputed to be one of the most beautiful train lines in the world, and which will allow me to hang out of the window to my heart’s content. I settle back for the c. 4 hour train journey, watching the Indian Ocean lap up to the shore as we meander past…

    16:15
    There were a couple of small rucksacks on the seat next to me when I found mine, and no one’s been back to collect them. I’m a little confused. At one point, the AC appears to have failed. I quickly realise it’s because we’re at a stop, and the doors at both ends of the carriage are open, allowing hot air in. I’m trying to work out if we’re running to time, but it’s a little challenging. There doesn’t seem to be an official timetable anywhere, so I’m kinda working off guesswork. I don’t think we’re tragically late - maybe ten mins behind schedule - but I could be a ways off. I know the couple of stations before mine, so promise myself I’ll be super vigilant, and realise when we’re getting near. #holdtightforfeedback

    18:30
    Getting off the train was fun. I managed to keep my vigilance promise, and was all set to plop myself onto the platform at Polwathumodara. As I approach the train door, the guard advises that I need to climb down. With a heavy pack on my back… The platform is too short, and only the front 4 carriages get to use the platform. Confident this will be the greatest of my challenges at the station, I climb down, making a half decent fist of it, then walk up a small path to get back to the station itself. Once there, I’m flummoxed. There’s no obvious way to get out. Literally none. There’s a small station building that opens up onto the platform, but there’s no door on the other side. I look up the platform to the South, and there’s a *hint* of a level crossing about 200m away. Looking back to the North, there’s a suggestion of a road maybe 400m away. A small child approaches, and asks something I do not understand. He points up the platform to where his mother (I assume?) is standing. I follow him as he runs in that direction. She asks where I’m heading to. I suggest anywhere would be a good start, and am quickly directed through their garden, which backs directly onto the tracks. She asks if I’d like to stop for a chai. I graciously decline. I’m far too fucking hot to make niceties over nice tea.

    I consider making it to the main highway a raging success, and set about ordering a cab. Uber is prevalent out here, as is a local app called PickMe - v similar in concept, and perhaps unsurprisingly, design. After some false dawns, a car is on its way to me, and I’ve just a couple of minutes to wait. What turns up is a shoebox. I mean, it’s a car - in that it’s got steering, an engine and four wheels - but there the similarities diverge. It’s a Tata Nano, that Indian conglomerate's attempt at recreating the Beetle, Hitler’s beloved peoples’ car. For the avoidance of doubt, I’m in no way suggesting the board of directors of Tata have any of his other leanings. I barely fit on the back seat with my backpack. It sounds like it has a two stroke lawnmower engine under the bonnet. We reach 20mph at one point - by accident one assumes. Still, he gets me close (ish) to my guesthouse, and I cover the last 200m on foot. My room looks great, but is sweltering. It’s air-conditioned, but the AC hasn’t been running this afternoon. I quickly dump my bags, and head straight out.

    21:30
    I’ve fallen in love with Mirissa, and I’ve only ventured about 20m from my guesthouse. The sun’s already set as I head down towards the beach, but I can still see some surfers picking up a half decent left-to-right break no more than 40m from the beach. I stop in at the first bar/restaurant I find, so urgent is my need for a G+T. I’m delighted to find that they run a happy hour until 19:00, and a G+T is included in their offer. It is a life-affirming sensation. I decide to stay for some dinner. It’s called Oh La La (shit name), and is owned/run by a French family. The menu is a fusion of French and local ingredients / techniques. I opt for some spiced calamari with a coriander ‘persillade’ and some spiced pilaf rice. It’s delicious. Amazingly, they have a half decent glass of Chardonnay that won’t break the bank. I’ve been getting a little bored of Lion lager, so an alternative is very welcome. After a less than stellar sleep last night, and a long, hot day of travel, I’m tuckered, so head back to my room, where I find a beautifully cool temperature to nestle down in to. I’ve not got much (anything) planned tomorrow, so will set a late alarm, and see where the day takes me…    Read more

  • Tim's TravelsSri Lanka - March 2024
    2
    Day 5

    Day 5 - Beach bars

    March 8 in Sri Lanka ⋅ ⛅ 27 °C

    08:30
    My sleep follows the same pattern - in a deeeeeep sleep by 23:30, only to take up clear as a bell around 02:00. I’m then awake until c. 04:00, when I fall back into a deep sleep for another few hours. I suspect it’s a hint of jet-lag. With the time difference, 04:00 locally is roughly when I’d be going to bed in the UK. I think my body might be thinking that my 23:00 bed time here is just a later afternoon nap, but 04:00 locally is a much more ‘normal’ time for me to be sleeping. With a footloose and fancy free day ahead of me, I’m sure I can build in some afternoon nap time to catch up a little.

    As I fell asleep last night, there was some banging house music playing somewhere nearby. I’ve seen a couple of reviews of my guesthouse complain about this, as though it’s the guesthouse owners’ fault. I sleep with headphones in anyway, so it didn’t bother me. I do plan to head out tonight to find its source though. Mirissa’s not known as a big party town - for that you’d tend to head further down the coast to Unawatuna - but there are a couple of bars that have DJs spinning most nights.

    13:30
    I’ve made it all of 200m up the beach. I stopped near my guesthouse for breakfast, at a place called A++. I don’t know whether that’s the grade they’re giving themselves, or a search engine optimisation type thing. Their avocado toast with a poached egg is delicious - amped up a little with some subtle spicing. It’s gone 12:00 by the time I finish, and I reason that walking in the midday sun is for mad dogs, so treat myself to a glass of wine. Their drinks list includes 3 white wines - all of which are Sauvignon Blanc - outstanding variety there, lads. I send a pic of the wine list to Vicki, and can imagine the wrinkly nose as she reads it. The beach feels quite busy today. Less so at this end of it, near where I’m staying, but further down the beach there are tons of folks sunbathing, paddling, swimming. Most of the beach bars are doing some decent business, but nowhere near full. It feels like a fairly good balance.

    I’ve been struck by the average age of people who are here. Had I to guess, I’d put it at around 43. There are a few people that are sub 30, and quite a few who I think are 50+. I find myself wondering whether Asia generally, and the sub-continent specifically are no longer the traveller’s destination of choice. They’re certainly not the massively bargain bucket locations they once were. I also find myself listening in to to conversations, less to eavesdrop, and more to work out where people are from. I hear English spoken more than anything else, but quickly followed by French, which surprises me. I get some German, a little Russian, and some other Slavic intonation - I want to say Baltic? Maybe Estonian. It’s a proper melting pot. My plan (if you can call it that) is to run a mini bar-crawl up the beach, in search of something better to drink than Lion Lager. I’m sitting at a bar midway up the beach, drinking an inevitable Lion, and starting to think this may be a thankless task…

    15:30
    I’ve made it to the far end of Mirissa Beach, and am perhaps 5 Lions deep. My quest ends in failure. OR - it’s been highly successful, depending on your perspective. I’ve rinsed a good selection of Mirissa’ beach bars, and can at least now say with a decent amount of certainty that it’s Lion or bust.

    Mirissa reminds me so much of Palolem when I first stayed there in 2007. It’s got the same intangible atmosphere that just makes you want to put roots down and stay. The beach bars have much the same feel to them - just great places to pause for a while, and get out of the sun. It even looks similar. I’m rapidly considering sacking off my next stop, and just staying here a few extra days. This inclination is helped when I meet Suresh, who owns Lava - a beach bar near the middle of the beach. Moments after meeting, he tells me there’s a beach party later, if I want to go, and offers me smoke if I want some. I’ve got to be up at 05:30 for my whale watching trip, but tell him I’ll check in with him later, and head along for a while.

    17:40
    It briefly looked like a storm was coming in. Given the heat and humidity, this could only be a good thing. It transpires that it’s just some cloud, to really amp up the already insanely high humidity. I walk back along the road, to check out what’s what, and stop briefly to grab some room supplies - water, tea, snacks etc. There’s a bottle shop over the road from the grocery store, and I briefly consider grabbing some wine or beers for my room, but the store is highly closed.

    Almost back at my guesthouse, I stop in at my favourite French place for a glass of wine, which rapidly becomes three. In my defence, they’re not very big. I sit and watch the surfers for an hour. The swell is getting up. It’s maybe 4-5 foot, and pretty clean. There’s one guy out in the water who’s seriously good. Fast, and with a dynamite cutback. I chat to the service team at the restaurant. I feel like I’m going to get to know them quite well…

    It’s glorious to get back to my room and cool down. Would be helped by a G+T, but thems the breaks. Toughest decision I face today is where to go for dinner. There was a great looking place on the main Mirissa road, but I really don’t know if I can be arsed to walk all of 10 minutes to get back to it.

    21:30
    I read my book for a while, and my eyes start to tire, so I have a deluxe little 45 minute nap around 18:30. I’m a bit dazed and confused when I wake up, but snap out of it quickly enough. My alarm clock in the morning is the wrong side of 06:00, so I decide to stay local for dinner, and give the beach party a miss. I head back to see my new French friends, so much did I enjoy my meal last night. I’m pretty sure the ‘glass’ of wine they’re serving me is gradually getting bigger. I have some amazing chicken kebabs as a starter, and a traditional Sri Lankan yellow vegetable curry to follow. The curry is delicious - mildly spiced, with turmeric and some cumin, some fresh ginger and garlic, and I think a little tamarind. It’s run through with lots of mustard seed and I think also some nigella seeds. It reminds me very much of the food I ate in Kerala.

    I find myself having a ‘isn’t this great’ moment while I’m out, which is immediately followed by what I initially think is a pang of loneliness - which would be my first on this trip. I quickly realise this is not that - I just wish Vicki was here with me, enjoying this journey as much as I am, as I think she would/will love it here. Almost immediately, I’m bitten by a mosquito, and I reason that there are things on which she’d be less keen.

    Back at my room I can hear the beach party in the distance. I have a fleeting thought about going anyway, and fuck the consequences, but it’s comfy here, and very cool, and my alarm is going off in less than 8 hours, and there’s another one early next week, and….

    22:30
    I pick up my phone to wish Vicks a goodnight, and learn that the car is playing silly buggers in my absence, The battery in the key fob has run out, and she’s stuck at a Shell garage near our house with no way of opening or starting the car. These keyless entry systems are all very well and good until… We to and fro for twenty minutes, there’s some energetic Googling of options, a suggestion of a spare back at the house. Happily, all ends well. It transpires it IS possible to start the car with a flat fob battery. You’ve just got to know the precise order of doing things, which anonymous part of the car to hold the key against, and when to say the magic words. Satisfied that I’ve been a help, if not necessarily helpful, I roll over, and go to sleep.    Read more

  • Tim's TravelsSri Lanka - March 2024
    Day 6

    Day 6 - Whales and Dolphins (no whales)

    March 9 in Sri Lanka ⋅ 🌙 26 °C

    05:30
    I’m actually awake at 04:30, well before my alarm. I don’t feel like I’ve had enough sleep, but will deal with that later. I can still hear the beach party going in the distance. Tempo’s definitely picked up in the 6 or so hours since I last heard it. I decide I’m definitely going to stay in Mirissa a couple of extra days, and make it to one of these parties before I head further East. Vicks is still awake in the UK. I always find it a strange combination of weird and cool when our days are so out of kilter that I can wish her a goodnight after I’ve woken up for the following day…

    12:30
    Couple of things.

    1) There’s another beach party tonight, which I’m gonna go to. This will mean missing the England vs Ireland rugby game, but there’s nowhere on the beach showing it, and the cell/WiFi services I’ve found aren’t up to the job of streaming it. I suspect some back home will believe that I’m intentionally missing the game because England are going to get eaten alive by Ireland. And they’d be (to an extent) right.
    2) I think I’m back on for leaving Mirissa on Tuesday. On my whale watching trip (lies - more of that to follow), I meet Maria, a Finnish lady who’s just come from Tangalle. She loved it, can’t recommend it highly enough etc etc, so back to my original plan to head over there on Tuesday.

    So - whale watching. Great fun, but should be rechristened dolphin watching. We saw a TON of dolphins, and plenty of them up close to the boat. Some Spinners, some Bottlenose, and a few Risso. All very cool and very cute. Watching them swim underneath the boat and out to the front is something that will stay with me for a very long time. No luck with whales though. Chatting to Dinesh, the guy running the boat, the whales are getting tougher to spot, for a couple of reasons:

    1) Pollution - the whales are finding it more difficult to feed with the amount of plastic that’s getting into the water. As we motor out from the harbour, it’s sickening to see how much single use plastic is littering near the shoreline. As we get further out there’s yet more. The whales typically use baleen plates to feed, and can’t filter out the plastic. As a result, they’re feeding further from shore than historically.
    2) Unregulated boats - some boat companies will offer to let you dive with the whales. This is illegal in Sri Lanka, but not well regulated. Dinesh’s company have a far more ethical approach to whale watching that is as non-invasive as possible. The number of unregulated boats is growing though, and is scaring the whales away.

    Just to really ram home how much humans are fuckwits, on the way back to shore, we sea a dead Jeff, floating aimlessly at sea, the victim of yet more plastic - this time, wrapped around his throat rendering him unable to swallow his food. It’s a sickening sight.

    Back on dry land / terra firma etc etc, I say goodbye to my crewmates, and head further round Mirissa Harbour. There’s a little restaurant here that gets incredible reviews, and I wanna check it out.

    15:00
    Lunch was banging. Nautica are renowned for their yellow prawn curry - a staple of this part of Sri Lanka. I order it, and it arrives rice and curry style, with some steamed rice, an amazing dahl, and a coconut sambal, to which I am now wise. The curry is outstanding - lots of plump, juicy prawns in a mild, but still pokey coconut milk based sauce. Chilli powder for heat I think, as it’s a grower/not a shower. Little bit of sourness, I think from lime juice rather than tamarind. Just brilliant. The dahl tastes better than water, lentils and a few spices have any right to taste. The place I’m eating is basically a small house’s garden area. The restaurant ‘kitchen’ is a little lean-to attached to the back of the house. It’s the best food I’ve had while I’ve been here. All in (including a couple of beers, obvs) it sets me back a tenner.

    The sun is beating. During the 15 minute walk back to my room, I sweat from places from which I didn’t know it was possible to sweat. The lovely folks at Sajana Hill have been into my room while I’ve been out and turned up the A/C, as it’s so hot today, and they were worried I’d need cooling down when I got back. They’re great - incredibly non-invasive, but available ASAP should you need anything.

    I’m torn between nap and beer. I elect to go with the latter.

    17:30
    I want to head out to find out more deets about tonight’s beach party, and also to try a couple of last minute ideas to see if I can possibly catch the rugby. I start at my favourite French bistro. The owner (who has a little of the Sebastian Chabal about him) admits to being a rugby fan. When I ask him how to watch rugby locally, he points at the TV hanging in the restaurant. Now, I know the restaurant closes around 22:00, and I know England’s game doesn’t start until 22:15, so I forlornly ask if there’s anywhere else that might be showing it. My good friend Seb (I’ll get his real name later) says he’ll stay and watch it with me, as long as I buy the drinks.

    SOLD.

    Heading a little further down the beach, I end up at Mirissa Surf Bar. There are loads of surf bars, hangouts etc along the beach, but this is the one I’m after. They are the hosts of tonight’s beach party. I settle down with a cider, and wait for my opening, while I watch the surfers out in the ocean.
    Moments later, I have a new best friend, Leon who is one of the service team at Surf Bar, and who wants to know if I’m coming to the rave, and again - whether I want any smoke. I tell him I’m busy till around midnight but I’ll swing by after. He reckons the party will go on till 06:00/07:00 or thereabouts. Happily, I have no plans tomorrow… I womble back to my room, conscious I should probably have a disco nap.

    23:15
    Well this is all going better than expected. It’s half-time in the rugby, and England are only down by 4. My pre-game prediction was that Ireland would win by 20, so for England to still be within 1 score is a good result. Seb, whose name is actually Robin, has invited a few of the service team to stay behind for drinks, and they’re all England fans for the night. It’s a little surreal to be watching the game, while I can hear the beach party gathering momentum just 100m up the beach.

    I thought the least I could do was have dinner here before the game. I had an amazing tuna tartare to start, melding the traditional European flavours of tuna, onion, olive oil - but elevated with Asian notes of coriander, finger lime and chilli. It probably shares most DNA with a South American ceviche. I’m not really bothered about provenance, it is DELICIOUS. To follow, I have an Asian beef dish, which seems to straddle parts of Thailand, Japan and Korea. I’ve never really been a fan of the concept of ‘fusion’ food, but I’m pretty sure that’s what this is, and it’s amazing.

    Ooh. Game’s about to restart. Back later x x    Read more

  • Tim's TravelsSri Lanka - March 2024
    Day 7

    Day 7 - Lazy day the beach

    March 10 in Sri Lanka ⋅ 🌙 27 °C

    02:00
    Well that was fun. The England/Ireland game finishes in a frenzy. The second half is a tight affair on the scoreboard, but anything but on the pitch. Several times, I think England have blown their chance to secure a statement win, but each time they surprise me with their resilience. England teams of the past 5 years have tended to crumble in the most high pressure moments, but this lot seem to be gelling into something of a team. By no means the finished article yet, but I feel positive about the team’s direction for the first time in ages. Ireland are up by two points with only a few minutes to play. England take a shot at goal from the halfway line, which misses. I have the sinking feeling that that’s our chance gone. With seconds to go, England come steaming back from the halfway line, putting pressure on the Irish defence by their try line. The ref signals a penalty advantage to England. The clock is in the red zone - next stoppage is the end of the game. With the penalty advantage in his pocket, Marcus Smith takes a drop at goal, and….. SCORES! England win by a point, and the bar erupts (quietly) into celebration. Crikey - what a game, and what a finish.

    It’s gone midnight, but I’m in a celebratory mood, so head down to the beach party. The music I could hear earlier sounded great. The music I can hear now, anything but. It’s a horrible style of EDM shite, all electro pop remixes. I immediately associate it with shitty Vegas club nights, and I suspect that’s the sound the DJ is going for. I bump into Maria. She was quiet and circumspect this morning on our boat trip. She’s now a hot, sweaty mess, and very clearly 3 sheets. We chat for a while, and I stay for a beer, but can’t stomach the music any longer. Back at my room, I’m quickly cooling down. There’s an audible change in the music style, and back to the much better house sounds I was hearing earlier. I’m very briefly tempted to get dressed again and head back to the party, but it’s getting on for 02:00, and I’m very comfy and cool in here, and I don’t really want to put my sweaty t-shirt back on, and….

    11:40
    I wake at 08:00, earlier than I’d have liked. Despite best efforts, I can’t get back to sleep, and head outside to my balcony to read in my hammock for a while. The weather seems to have turned a little. The sky is a clear and cloudless blue, there’s a slightly fresh southerly breeze, and the humidity feels like it’s dropped off. There’s still a lovely tropical warmth, but in a much more manageable package. Around 10:00, I start to feel a little dozy, so head back to bed and manage an hour’s top up kip. I don’t have much/any of a plan today. I’m looking forward to a day on and around the beach, and will just see where the day takes me.

    15:00
    Walking down the beach, it’s evident how much the weather pattern has shifted. There’s a fairly strong wind coming in off the sea, and the surf is noticeably bigger - maybe as big as 5-6 foot, and looks clean. The tide is also much higher. Mirissa’s not the widest beach, and many of the bars up and down the beach encroach a little too close to the water’s edge. I enjoy the wet feet sensation of walking through the lukewarm beach surf. I’m headed nowhere in particular - will stop for a beer and some food wherever the mood takes me.

    I wish to correct, or rather to clarify my earlier statements about language. Firstly, whilst English is by a distance the most commonly spoken language here, it’s not by Brits. As is so often the case (and particularly in Commonwealth nations), English is a lingua franca - spoken to some degree by most tourists, and by locals. Amazingly, I’ve actually only come across a handful of folks from the UK, generally while I’ve been in Sri Lanka, and specifically here in Mirissa. I’m none too disappointed by this.

    I’ve also clocked myself using a slightly different accent to my usual one when speaking with people out here. I don’t *think* it’s an attempt to confuse my nationality, as I’m very happy to say exactly where I’m from. I think I do it wherever I am to be honest - there’s plenty of my ‘natural’ accent in there, but I seem to somehow internationalise my intonation with hints of Australasia, a touch of North America and just a little bit of southern Africa. It’s particular words - I’ve caught myself saying ‘no’ with a Aussie drawl, ‘yeah’ (or more accurately ‘yar’ with more than a suggestion of the Western Cape, and I’ve been lifting the inflection at the end of sentences so they sound like a question, as only a native of Melbourne should?

    I’ve stopped for a beer and some lunch at Lava, one of the beach bars that’s been recommended to me. Honestly though, these places are much of a muchness, with very similar menus, prices and quality. I decide it’s time to branch out, so I try a fish Ambul Thiyal, a Tamil dish that’s a kind of dry curry. It’s very tasty, but could have done with a little more heat for me. It’s served with a brilliant beetroot raita - grated fresh beetroot with yoghurt, green chilli and minced red onion. Deffo one to try at home (when Vicks is out, as she and the beetroot do not see eye to eye).

    I’ve been asked a few times how hot I’d like my food. Erring on the side of caution, I’ve tended to say ‘medium’ in the hope it won’t blow my tits off. On the whole though, I’ve not had anything that’s been too hot for me. I suspect the places I’m eating cater primarily to Western palates, and therefore moderate the amount of chilli they’re using. I’m loathe ask them to spike the temperature up though, as I suspect that will come back to bite me in the ass - literally and figuratively. I think and hope that later in my trip I’ll have more opportunity to eat at local restaurants catering to locals, so should be able to measure myself up against what Sri Lankans would actually tolerate. I may live to regret this.

    After lunch, I wander back down the beach to catch up with Leon, who tells me there’s another but smaller beach party tonight, if I want to come down. I mention the shocking DJ around 01:00 last night, and he rolls his eyes. Apparently it’s someone new they’d been using, and won’t be hiring again. He claims the music is usually like the DJs preceding and following. I’m a little torn. I’d promised myself a chilled evening and an early (ish) night, but this might change things…

    I have my first swim in the Indian Ocean. As I mentioned back on day 1, travelling solo does have its challenges. Until now I’ve not felt happy leaving my bag and belongings at any of the beach bars for any length of time while I swim, but I feel confident (enough) that Leon will do as he says, and keep an eye on my bag for me. The surf is very powerful. There’s actually a bit of a rip tide pushing swimmers towards some rocks about 20m out from the beach. In surf this strong, that can be a recipe for disaster. A couple of times I see swimmers jump up into a breaking wave, rather than dive underneath it, and they get tossed around like flotsam. Accomplished sea-swimmers, they are not.

    Back on the beach, I curl up on a sun-bed to dry. Leon sits for a chat, and we share a bifta. Thankfully it’s not insanely strong, and just gives me a very chilled buzz. It also makes me a little sleepy. I head back to my room for a nap, but not before bumping into Robin, who tells me that he’d appreciate some rugby solidarity when France take on Wales at 20:30 this evening. I laugh, and tell him that will be no problem, but he’s buying the beers…

    18:00
    Wow. I can actually sit out on my terrace in the relative heat of the day without bucketing out sweat. This is a more than pleasant change. Really wish I’d managed to pick up some gin and tonics, as one would slip down a treat right now. The humidity is down to mid 50s, which I think makes all the difference. I should really shower and head out, but I’m not entirely convinced I can be arsed. I appear to have located the off switch.

    23:00
    JUST about manage to get myself up and out, and glad I did. I have dinner at a place in downtown Mirissa called Mila. Rave reviews etc etc, and a slightly more interesting menu than a lot of the beach bars. I opt for a crab curry. I’m not sure why, but I wasn’t quite expecting another crab dissection job. I think in my head, they’d done the hard graft for me, by picking the crab from its shell. Oh no - that’s may job. The crab has been cooked in a beautiful curry sauce with the fragrance of cardamom and the bite of tamarind. It’s delicious. I stupidly put on a clean t-shirt before heading out, and spend most of an hour trying to extract the juicy crab meat from its shell, while avoiding pouring turmeric laden curry down my front. I manage (just) to avoid the yellow peril.

    It’s past 20:00, and I’m mindful of my promise to Robin. Back at Oh La La, the game is just kicking off. Robin is impressed and appreciative that I’m bedecked in blue. It’s a partisan crowd. wholly supporting France, with the exception of one guy sat in front of me, bravely cheering on Wales. He looks a little disconcerted as the noise levels rise. It’s a good game for 50 minutes - very finely balanced. In the last 30, France show their quality, and pull away to finish 20+ points ahead.

    Vicks and I have a arranged to chat this evening, so I head back to my room. Despite the air feeling cooler and less humid, it’s still a joy to sink into the frigid air at the guesthouse. It’s amazing to hear Vicks’ voice. She’s had a pretty full-on weekend, bless her - hosting a birthday party at ours last night, and a family catch-up for Mother’s Day today. Our boys have gone down a treat with all visitors, shameless little flirts that they are.

    I can hear tonight’s beach party in full swing. There’s no such temptation to head out to it this evening. It’s a kind of blend of garage and breaks, and not a good one. As I try to sleep, I can hear/feel the bass pretty clearly…    Read more

  • Tim's TravelsSri Lanka - March 2024
    2
    Day 8

    Day 8 - Pheest of Phishes

    March 11 in Sri Lanka ⋅ ⛅ 27 °C

    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

  • Tim's TravelsSri Lanka - March 2024
    Day 9

    Day 9 - Mirissa to Tangalle

    March 12 in Sri Lanka ⋅ 🌙 27 °C

    FFS. Awake again by 05:30. I’ve no excuse this time. I’d always blamed my shit sleeping on stress and strain, but I have none, and still… I at least know I can nap later to catch up a bit if needs be. It’s moving day - I’m heading down the coast to Tangalle, which is an hour or so. Heat and humidity are back up today, so think I’ll probably jump in a Tuk-Tuk or cab, rather than take the bus. A cab works out to around 100 rupees per kilometre, perhaps 25p, Feels like decent value to have an AC car for the journey.

    Packing is pretty straightforward. I’ve not really unpacked, so little to shove back into my rucksack. The biggest logistical challenge is working out what to do with my sandy board shorts and flip-flops. I’ve got a carrier bag, so bung them in their, and attach it to my rucksack.

    I need to grab something to eat before ordering a cab. I’ve not felt like eating breakfast out here so far. Couple of cups of coffee, and maybe a fruit juice has been easily getting me through to an early (ish) lunch. Today is no different, and I’m heading back to Mila on the main road. It’s a c 10 min walk with 25kg of backpack, and I’m building up quite the head of steam by the time I get there. The guys at the restaurant recognise a man in need, and bring me a Lion within seconds of my arrival.

    15:00
    Lunch at Mila was great. A simple prawn Kottu, and some chicken kebabs. The journey over was a breeze. My driver, Nishan, actually lives in Tangalle, and comes from Tissamaharama, my next stop. He gives me his card, and says he’ll undercut Uber by 15% if I contact him directly, as Uber take 30% of everything he earns in his cab. Sounds like a fair deal to me. The journey from Tissamaharama to Ella particularly will be a ball-ache, as it needs 3 separate buses, and would take around 7 hours. A direct cab will be more like 2 hours. Probably won’t be cheap, but already feels like good value. His cab feels sturdy, and he’s a rarity amongst drivers here - sensibly cautious. It’s also blissfully cool. I feel like he and I shall be friends.

    The scenery on the drive over reminds me very much of Kerala. It’s beautifully lush and verdant. There are countless rice paddies bordering the road, and more than a few rivers and streams as we pass by. Much of the distance of the journey (if not the time) is spent on a highway - Expressway 01. It’s a lot less busy than the expressway from Colombo airport into the city centre (thankfully). Sri Lanka’s tourism industry has been booming in recent years, and has recovered from the pandemic particularly quickly. It’s easily seen that there has been and continues to be investment to attract travellers. Expressway 01 is the first (obvs) of 9 planned highways, all due for completion by the end of 2024. There are many other facilities that make the traveller’s life that much easier. When I first travelled around India, none of the places I had offered Wifi. To be fair, my phone at the time wasn’t exactly built for high speed internet. Roaming wasn’t a thing - any and all calls, texts from the UK were wickedly expensive. If you wanted to find somewhere to stay, you arrived there and asked if there was space. Certainly, the availability of sites like booking.com and Agoda has made finding accommodation much less fraught. I’ve talked before about my desire to be less constrained on the various journeys I’m taking during my sabbatical. I have a sneaking suspicion that whilst I’m really enjoying having next to no plan, subconsciously I’m aware that I can source transport and accommodation pretty quickly and easily.

    Arriving into Tangalle, my room is ready for me. It’s a step up from Sajana Ocean Hill, which whilst clean and functional was pretty basic. Luaya Beach has a few more creature comforts - a minibar with soft drinks and beer in it, a table and desk, some shelves, a coffee station. My max stay for the rest of my trip is 2 nights, so I’m not unpacking as I go. I arrange a few things on the shelves to show willing, and head out to explore Tangalle.

    18:30
    The coastline in Tangalle is much wilder than Mirissa. The surf right at the water’s edge is messy and strong. Not particularly conducive to swimming. The beach is much more basic as well. There are still beach bars dotted along it, but they’re a much lower tech version of their equivalents in Mirissa - none the worse for it, but markedly different. There’s a strong wind blowing off the sea, which is keeping the temperature in check. At 16:00, walking around is just a pleasantly warm sensation, rather than the stifling heat to which I’ve grown accustomed. I stop for a beer at one of the beach bars. I’m one of perhaps 10 customers. The pace of life here is much slower and laid back.

    Walking back to Luaya Beach, I browse a few restaurants for dinner later. One in particular jumps out - called Let’s Sea. There’s already a strong smell of garlic, butter and grilled fish emanating from the kitchen. This must be a good sign.

    23:00.
    Dinner was a cracker. I had a whole, grilled white snapper, with some grilled prawns, and baby calamari, and in a lightly spiced sauce. It’s accompanied by some plain rice, but also with a cabbage salad/slaw type thing, which has some pineapple running through it. I’m not always a fan of sweet and savoury together, but this is brilliant. The restaurant is full. Given how few people I saw on the beach earlier, I assume that’s because this is one of the best places for seafood, and thus very popular locally. Dinner costs a princely £12, including a couple of monster bottles of Lion.

    I briefly consider a nightcap at one of the bars along the walk back to my guesthouse, but honestly, I’m not sure I have the energy or will. Look, it’s been a tough day, alright?    Read more

  • Tim's TravelsSri Lanka - March 2024
    2
    Day 10

    Day 10 - Easy, rider

    March 13 in Sri Lanka ⋅ ☁️ 27 °C

    09:40
    Ok, interesting. I slept until nearly 08:00 this morning. I think my sleeping frailties at Mirissa were probably the result of noise - not just the beach parties, but also the morning chorus of cockerels, peacocks and dogs. Here in Tangalle, there’s no noise. It’s so utterly quiet, and I’m pretty sure this is what lets me sleep through, and sleep until such a relatively late time.

    It looks like a stunning day, so plonk myself in Luaya’s lush garden. I can feel the sun warming up already, the heat starting to prickle on my skin. Around 08:30, the guys running Luaya bring me a Sri Lankan breakfast. I’m not kidding when I say that it arrives in about 7 stages. Massive pot of freshly brewed coffee, the best I’ve had since I arrived in Sri Lanka; a plate of hoppers - waffer theen pancakes filled with a fried egg; a bowl each of dhal, potato curry, and coconut sambol; a plate of string hoppers - noodles made of a pancake dough; a plate of fresh fruit; a coconut pancake with a set yoghurt; a glass of pineapple juice. It’s comfortably enough to feed 2. I’m stuck in that typically British mentality, where if you took / are served the food, then you’re supposed to finish it. That was the rule in my house growing up, at any rate. I reason that the banana can at least be served to someone else, and the yoghurt is in a pot with a lid, so can be reused. I’m so overwhelmed by the amount of food that I barely notice how amazing it tastes. I have GOT to get a recipe for Sri Lankan dhal while I’m here.

    Plan today is to rent a bike, and head out for a bit of an explore of the areas surrounding Tangalle. Might need a quick nap first after that hefty breakfast…

    16:30
    Awesome fun.

    Pitching up at the bike rental shop, the owner takes one look at me, and decides I need a big chopper type affair. I point at one of the scooters - it’s been nearly 20 years since I rode a proper motorbike, and I don’t feel like the roads of Sri Lanka are the place for me to get reacquainted. He insists. I insist. Some insisting happens. He finally gives in, and allows me to rent what I came here wanting to rent.

    I need to run a few errands in town. I feel like today is the day I might finally be able to buy a bottle of gin to carry on the rest of my journey. I’m also close to running out of deodorant, as a consequence of taking so many cold showers to remain cool. Time to re-up on some cash as well. I manage to find the bottle shop easily enough. You don’t actually go into a shop. There’s a cashier behind armoured glass who gets what you ask for - a little like a petrol station in the UK after-hours. Success though! There’s a local gin called Rockland that I’ve been drinking out, and it’s pretty good. I grab a few beers as well - just because. At the supermarket, the only deodorant options are Axe style body sprays. Hmmm, I’ll leave it thanks. I try a pharmacy, and then another supermarket. Turns out the only option on the entire island by way of anti-perspirant is a roll on. Don’t think I’ve used one of those for 30 years? Still - it’ll do a job…

    I drop my groceries back to my room, and head out for an explore - firstly to the East, where I find a bar called The Lounge that is only accessible by boat. They claim to have an uninterrupted view of the sunset, so I decide to come back later for beers and dinner. Back through town, and towards the west, I stop at Coco, where Rach and Whiskas stayed, and enjoy a pretty decent glass of wine. I push further on, around 10km outside of Tangalle, and come across a tiny little restaurant just off the beach - which one, I really couldn’t say. They make me a great cheese and egg rotti, and provide me with the very coldest of beers.

    Getting back on my bike, the seat is on fire. The scooter’s been parked in the sun, and the vinyl seat is properly hot. I head back through Tangalle, and out towards my guesthouse. I ride past a little beach bar called Watergate Bay, one of my favourite places in Cornwall, and I reason that it would rude / foolish not to stop for a beer. A couple a few tables away from me are getting a bit flustered because the bar is cash only, and they don’t have enough to cover their bill. I ask how much they need, and it’s only a couple of thousand rupees, so I pay it forward.

    Around 16:00, I drop the bike back, and walk back to my guesthouse. It’s stinking hot, and all I can think of is a cold shower, and then a cooldown/read under the air-conditioning, perhaps accompanied by a G+T…

    19:00
    Well that was a bit of a damp squib. I’ve read about a beach bar a couple of kilometres from me, right down at the far end of Tangalle Beach. It can only be reached by boat, and is supposed to have the best views of sunset in all of Tangalle. Sounds right up my strasse. I jump in a tuk-tuk, arrive at the side of an estuary, and see a sign directing me to ring the bell to summon ‘The Pirate’ (I’m not kidding). This all sounds very jolly fun, so I ring the bell, and - nothing. I ring the bell again. And again. And again. After a couple of minutes of looking like a prize potato, someone emerges from the bar and waves at me. I wave back. I’m polite, of course. He waves again. I think this could go on for some time, but wave back anyway. He waves in such a way as to make me thing he’s not waving. I shout across the river, asking if they’re closed. He nods. Fucksticks.

    Somewhat deflated, I start walking back to the centre of Tangalle Beach. There are, at least, a few beach bars along the way. I decide to have a sort of mini bar-crawl (NB - not a mini-bar crawl) on the way back - as some form of ill-informed and possibly ill-advised protest. Three bars in, and I find myself at a bar whose name I do not know, drinking impossibly cold bottles of Lion - one of which actually freezes in my glass to form the coolest possible kind of slushie. I stay for 3 - spending most of my time gazing absentmindedly out across the water.

    I’ve been dreaming about dead people recently. Not in a Sixth Sense kind of way - but just conscious my subconscious is thinking about people I’ve lost along the way. Both my Mum and Dad have featured heavily recently, which is perhaps no surprise. My good friend Ailsa, who died from breast cancer in 2023 is also in there. Even my old and dear friend, Phillip, who died nearly 30 years ago. These aren’t unpleasant dreams - I’m not waking up in an anxious cold sweat. I’m just aware that my brain is wanting to think about them all in some way, shape or form. As a result, I spend a happy hour with beer, reminiscing, reflecting and remembering.

    The water is even rougher today than yesterday. Some of the waves are so powerful that I feel a little worried for a couple of folks who are swimming amongst it. I get chatting to one of the bar guys. Pretty unsurprisingly, he ends up offering me some smoke. Is it my face? Suddenly conscious that the beer is making me hungry.

    21:45
    Walking back towards my guesthouse, none of the restaurants were grabbing me. I made it as far as Let’s Sea, and decided to pop in again. I’m welcomed like some kind of prodigal son, but without the biblical implications. This evening’s prime catch is seer fish - a close relative of king fish, which Vicks and I have eaten so happily in Goa, and kissing cousin to our own mackerel. It’s got a more robust flavour than the white snapper I ate last night, so is prepared with a sauce of deeper flavour - lots of cumin, curry leaves and some fennel seed. It’s breathtakingly good - the fish has such a firm, meaty texture. The guys at Let’s Sea throw in some big grilled prawns for me as well. My bill doesn’t come close to a tenner.

    The temperature’s still up close to 30C. The gin in my minibar fridge is calling to me, and I might just throw on a movie tonight to wile away the time…    Read more

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